"What did you just say?"
David's voice was low.
Cold.
Dangerous.
The kind of tone that didn't ask questions…
It demanded answers.
The woman in red didn't flinch.
Didn't step back.
Didn't even blink.
Instead, she tilted her head slightly, her expression calm—almost amused.
"I said," she repeated slowly, her voice smooth and deliberate, "I'm the reason you don't remember Lagos."
Silence.
The kind that presses against your chest until it feels hard to breathe.
Amara felt it instantly.
Her heart pounded violently as she turned to David.
His face had gone still.
Too still.
Not confused.
Not angry.
Something else.
Unsettled.
"How?" Amara asked, her voice quieter now but edged with urgency. "How is that even possible?"
The woman's lips curved into a faint smile.
"You'd be surprised what people are capable of," she said.
David took a step forward.
"No," he said firmly. "Enough riddles. You don't get to stand there and play games."
The woman's eyes flickered briefly with something darker.
"I'm not playing," she replied.
"Then start talking," David snapped.
For a moment, it looked like she might refuse.
Like she might drag this out even longer.
But then—
She exhaled softly.
And something shifted.
"You weren't supposed to remember that night," she said quietly.
Amara's chest tightened.
"Why?" she asked.
The woman's gaze moved to her.
"Because," she said slowly, "what happened after you left the hotel… was never meant to be part of your life."
David frowned deeply.
"That doesn't make sense," he said. "If something happened, I would remember."
The woman let out a soft, almost pitying laugh.
"No," she said.
"You wouldn't."
Amara felt a chill crawl up her spine.
"What did you do?" she asked.
The woman didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she walked past them slowly, her heels clicking softly against the floor as she moved toward the window again.
The city lights reflected in the glass, framing her like something untouchable.
"Memory," she said finally, her voice distant now, almost reflective, "is fragile."
She turned slightly.
"It can be altered," she continued.
"It can be blurred."
She paused.
"And in some cases…"
"It can be erased."
Amara's breath caught.
David shook his head immediately.
"That's impossible," he said.
The woman smiled faintly.
"Is it?" she asked.
David's jaw tightened.
"You expect us to believe you just… erased part of my memory?" he said.
"I didn't do it alone," she replied.
Silence.
Amara's heart skipped.
"What does that mean?" she asked.
The woman looked at her again.
"It means," she said, "you're not the only one who was there that night."
A heavy pause followed.
"Who else?" David demanded.
The woman didn't answer.
Instead, she studied him.
Closely.
As if deciding how much to reveal.
As if measuring the impact.
"You left the hotel," she said slowly.
David's breathing grew tighter.
"And you didn't go straight home," she continued.
"I already told you—I don't remember," he said sharply.
"I know," she replied.
That calmness again.
That control.
It was suffocating.
"You got into a car," she said.
Amara's eyes widened slightly.
"With who?" she asked.
The woman's gaze shifted briefly to her.
"Does it matter?" she said.
"Yes, it matters!" Amara snapped.
The woman smiled faintly.
"It was me."
Silence.
Total.
Absolute.
David's expression hardened instantly.
"That's not possible," he said.
"But it is," she replied.
Amara felt her chest tighten.
"You're lying," she said.
The woman turned fully toward her now.
"No," she said softly.
"I'm correcting the story."
David stepped closer, anger now clearly visible beneath his composure.
"Then correct all of it," he said. "What happened after that?"
The woman's expression shifted again.
For the first time…
There was emotion.
Faint.
But real.
"You don't remember how you looked that night," she said quietly.
David frowned.
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Everything," she replied.
Amara's heart pounded harder.
"Why?" she asked.
The woman took a slow breath.
"Because you weren't just drunk," she said.
Silence.
David's brows furrowed.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
The woman held his gaze.
"You were set up," she said.
The words landed heavily.
Amara felt the ground shift beneath her.
"Set up… how?" she asked.
The woman didn't look away.
"Someone wanted you compromised," she said.
David's fists clenched.
"For what?" he demanded.
The woman's lips curved slightly again.
"For control," she said.
Silence fell once more.
But this time…
It was different.
Heavier.
Because now…
This wasn't just about betrayal.
It was about something bigger.
Something planned.
Amara shook her head slowly.
"This doesn't make sense," she whispered. "Why involve me?"
The woman's gaze shifted to her.
And this time…
There was no smile.
"Because," she said quietly…
"You were never supposed to be part of this."
Amara froze.
"What does that mean?" she asked.
The woman stepped closer.
Now standing directly in front of her.
Close enough to feel her presence.
Close enough to feel the truth pressing in.
"It means," she said softly…
"You were the mistake."
Amara's breath caught.
And suddenly…
Everything felt like it was about to fall apart.