Adanna did not sleep after hearing the phone call. Before dawn, she sent a voice note to Barrister Chinedu, Uncle Obiora’s lawyer, and asked him to prepare documents that placed the inheritance in a protected trust for Somto, with Adanna as the only living trustee. She also told him about Emeka’s threat. Chinedu begged her to leave the house immediately, but Adanna knew Emeka would deny everything and Mama Ifeoma would gather the family to call her unstable. For years, they had used her blindness to make every accusation sound like confusion. She needed proof. On Friday, Emeka brought papers and claimed they were routine forms from the lawyer. Adanna let him guide her finger toward the signature line, then deliberately signed a false version of her name. Hidden inside the beaded purse on her lap, her phone recorded Emeka whispering to Mama Ifeoma that the shops would be sold before the burial dust settled. That evening, Adanna sent the recording and her live-location settings to Chinedu. Saturday morning arrived bright and windless. Emeka dressed carefully, sprayed expensive perfume, and announced that they should visit a market across the river to buy fabric for her new business. His performance was almost convincing. He held her elbow whenever villagers passed, greeted elders warmly, and described potholes that were not there so anyone watching would admire his patience. Adanna walked with her cane and dark glasses, allowing him to believe the lie that had made him careless. The road narrowed after the final cassava farm. Palm trees leaned over a fast-moving river swollen by recent rain. The old footbridge ahead had been repaired with thick timber beams, but gaps remained between them. Emeka crossed first. Adanna heard the change in his breathing before she saw him look toward both ends of the path. He crouched, dragged away the central beam, and pushed it into tall grass. A dark opening appeared above the roaring water. Then he stood on the opposite bank and encouraged her forward, telling her the bridge was safe and asking her to trust him. Adanna’s knees weakened. Those words had carried her through childbirth, blindness, loneliness, and humiliation. Now they were being used to lead her to death. She asked again whether the path was clear. Emeka answered without hesitation. Adanna lifted her glasses. The color drained from his face as she looked directly at him. Calmly, she told him that her sight had returned 3 weeks earlier, that she had seen the food he withheld, the woman he brought home, the forged papers, and the beam he had just removed. Emeka stared at her, then glanced toward the road as if calculating whether anyone had heard. His shock hardened into rage. He accused her of deceiving him and stepped back onto the bridge, promising that nobody would believe a blind woman over a respected husband. Adanna raised the phone still recording inside her purse. Emeka lunged toward her. His sandal struck wet moss. His body twisted, his hands clawed at the timber, and suddenly he was hanging over the flood by 1 arm. Adanna stood above him with her cane extended, while Emeka screamed for the trust he had tried to murder.
Part 3
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