Chapter 3 - The Sound of Truth“You are shaking, Adaeze.”
I jumped, spinning around. Chidi stood at the gallery entrance, his tall frame leaning against the archway. His dark sunglasses hid his eyes, but his sharp ears had caught every tremor of my breath.
“I’m fine,” I lied, stepping away from the painting.
Chidi walked into the room, moving with an eerie, precise grace that defied his blindness. He didn't use his cane here; he knew every floorboard by the resonance of its echo. He stopped just two feet from me, tilting his head.
“People who are fine do not smell of cold sweat and rising panic,” Chidi said calmly. He reached out, his long fingers gently brushing against the edge of the framed canvas. “You recognize the handwriting behind this frame, don't you?”
My breath caught. “What do you mean?”
“Your mother was Evelyn Eze—the most brilliant art restorer in the country before my uncle forced her out of the guild,” Chidi said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, low register. “And that handwriting in charcoal beneath the canvas belongs to her. I recognize her signature stroke. She wrote that warning the night before she died.”
I stared at him, completely paralyzed. “You... you knew?”
“I have spent three years in darkness, Adaeze. When you lose your sight, your mind becomes a vault for every detail others overlook,” Chidi answered, turning his sightless face toward me. “I knew my crash was sabotage. I knew my uncle wanted me dead. What I didn't know was why he targeted your mother.”
“Because she found the proof,” I whispered, tears finally breaking free. “She found the wire transfers from Chief Eze to the mechanic who cut your brakes. She hid them in plain sight, right beneath the frame of her final painting.”
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Chidi’s jaw tightened. A muscle twitched in his cheek. He reached out, taking my cold hand in his warm, steady grip.
“Then we stop hiding,” Chidi said. “Are you ready to help me tear my family apart?”
