CHAPTER 55

CHAPTER 55

HOURS EARLIER…

Nikky talked, and Mnotho listened.
She gave him everything, the church name, the pastor's name. She told him the church stood right next to the pastor's house. A big, beautiful church, respected in the area. A place people trusted.
Mnotho picks up his car keys… then Nikky's keys too.
His second stop is Nikky's home.
He wants to see the woman who raised her.
The same woman who hurt her.
He knows he is crossing boundaries.
He does not care. None of it matters anymore.
Brian agrees without hesitation. He will meet Mnotho, take the pastor's body to his basement, take whatever he needs, then return the body before morning. Everything must be clean, quiet and finished.
Mnotho checks the time.
He needs to be in Pimville by 1 a.m.
It is not far, but he cannot speed. It is midnight, one of the darkest hours. The streets feel eerie now and cold.
He wants to return home, safe and sound.
Back to Nikky, and back to his son.

When he arrives in Pimville, the GPS speaks softly.
You have arrived.
The church and The pastor's house.
He spots another car parked nearby.
Brian, Good he is here.
The street is quiet. And that works perfectly.
Mnotho steps out of the car and locks it. The sound feels louder than it should. He walks slowly toward Brian's car. Brian lowers his window, wearing a wide grin, almost excited.
"What if Miranda wakes up and finds you not in bed?" Mnotho whispers.
Even he is surprised Brian comes tonight, especially with his wife back.
"She's sleeping," Brian says calmly. "If she wakes up, she'll call. I'll tell her I was called in for a quick surgery."
He shrugs like it means nothing.
Mnotho shakes his head.
He knows women. Leaving the house in the middle of the night without a word always causes problems. They always think you are cheating.
And he does not want to go home and find Nikky awake, wondering where he is.
So this must be quick.
Brian hands him an injection.
"Deep sleeping pills," Brian whispers. "He won't make a sound."
Mnotho nods.
Brian stays outside to watch the street. If anything moves, he will warn him.
Mnotho walks through the church gate. It is not locked, just wide open. That amuse him. He moves straight to the wall dividing the church and the pastor's house.
He looks around.
A brick,it is too short.
He looks again and finds another. Then another. Three bricks.
Luck is on his side tonight.
He stacks them carefully and climbs.
When his feet touch the ground in the pastor's yard, he freezes.
He listens. There's no dogs.
Nothing, just silence.
He knows the doors will be locked. Even people who believe in God lock their doors. Especially in the township.
He pulls out a flathead screwdriver.
He slides it into the lock gently. Twists it slowly. Stops. Tries again. Again and again.
A Click sound.
The door opens.
He releases a silent breath and steps inside.
Nikky told him the pastor lives alone. His wife and son died years ago in a car accident. He never remarried.
No witnesses and no time to waste.
He moves through the house, opening doors one by one. Empty room. Another empty room.
Then, the bedroom.
The pastor is awake. Drinking water.
They freeze at the same time.
Mnotho swears under his breath.
"I'm not alone," Mnotho says coldly. "If you scream, the people I'm with will kill you. We need to talk."
He slams the door shut and locks it.
The pastor's hands shake.
"Oh… Nkulunkulu wami," the pastor whispers.
Mnotho smiles.
He steps closer. Slow and calm. Standing over the bed.
"Yes," Mnotho says quietly, his voice calm but threatening. "I am God."
In one quick movement, Mnotho takes out the injection. With his other hand, he clamps the pastor's mouth shut, pressing hard so no sound comes out. The pastor's eyes widen in fear.
Mnotho removes the cap. He presses the needle into the pastor's neck and pushes the injection in. When he's done he takes out a little plastic and puts the injection inside it, wraps it gently and puts it in his jacket pockets.
He sits on the edge of the bed, looking at the pastor. The nightstand lamp is on, and he can see the pastor clearly. The man is shaking a little. Mnotho shakes his head.
"After a few minutes, what I injected into your system will knock you out," Mnotho says coldly. "It might kill you. Or it might not. I don't care." He waves his hand dismissively.
"Who… who are… you?" the pastor stammers, still trembling, and drops his cup of water.
Mnotho surveys the room, his eyes harsh.
"Where's your Bible?" he asks, his voice still cold, calm. That makes the pastor's blood run cold"
"My… my Bible?" the pastor stammers.
"I said, Where's your Bible?" Mnotho interrupts sharply.
With shaking hands, the pastor opens the drawer beside him and pulls out the Bible. Mnotho nods, a dark grin spreading across his face.
"So," Mnotho begins, his grin widening, "you're going to swear on the Bible. You will speak nothing but the truth about your sins."
"Sins?" the pastor whispers.
"Yes. Sins." Mnotho leans forward slightly. "You did something years ago. Do you remember Nikezinkosi Nkabinde? That little girl in your church… the one you didn't believe when she said some creep tried to touch her?"
The pastor freezes, eyes wide, unable to speak. His hands tremble over the Bible.
Mnotho's grin grows intense. "I want the truth. Every detail. You swear on this Bible, you tell me everything, or there will be consequences. You understand?"
The pastor nods shakily.
"Good," Mnotho says, voice low and cold. "Put your right hand on the Bible," he adds, his eyes never leaving the pastor. "Swear to speak nothing but the truth. Every lie, every secret, you tell me now."
The pastor obeys, pressing his right hand firmly on the holy book, his left hand trembling at his side.
"I… I swear…" he murmurs.
Mnotho shakes his head, cutting him off. A faint, dark chuckle escapes him. "No. Say your full name," he says, savoring the moment. "Say it loud, clearly."
"I… I, Zacharia Ngobese, swear to tell nothing but the truth," the pastor stammers, his voice shaking, each word heavy with fear.
Mnotho leans closer, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Then start confessing. Every lie. Every sin. Every secret you've kept. Now."
"But… Zorro didn't do anything to Nike," Zacharia says quickly. "Yes, he was a little touchy when he was drunk, but he didn't harm them."
Mnotho gasps, shocked by the audacity of this man.
"Excuse me?" Mnotho asks, disbelief sharp in his voice.
"Yes," Zacharia continues, panic rising. "He was hugging them, playing with them. Not touching them inappropriately."
Mnotho's heart pounds hard. His jaw tightens. Zorro was a creep, and this so-called holy man is defending him.
"So Zorro touching their bums, tickling them, and putting little kids on his lap was normal to you?" Mnotho roars.
Zacharia jumps. His whole body shakes as he nods weakly.
"I know how it sounds, but Nike lied a lot," Zacharia says, his voice trembling. "Yes, some kids did come forward with allegations, but that was all. Zorro is not a pedophile."
Mnotho stands up suddenly. Rage floods him. He lets out a soft, dangerous chuckle as he stares at Zacharia.
He steps closer.
Then his hand closes around the pastor's neck.
"So Nike and those children just lied, huh?" Mnotho says through clenched teeth. "What kind of pastor are you? What kind of father are you?"
His grip tightens.
"So tell me," he continues, his voice dark and shaking with anger, "are you also part of it? Touching them? Tickling them? Satisfying your…"
Mnotho stops himself. His hand squeezes harder for a second, then loosens. His anger is burning, wild, barely under control. He is furious.
Zacharia's eyes bulge, almost popping out. His face turns red as he gasps for air. Mnotho finally releases him. Zacharia collapses forward, coughing loudly, struggling to breathe.
Mnotho steps back, breathing heavily. His chest rises and falls fast. His eyes stay locked on the pastor, sharp and piercing, full of hatred.
"You deserve to die a very painful, gruesome death, you bastard," Mnotho says. His voice is filled with venom.
Zacharia coughs again, hard. His eyes are wide with fear.
"Oh… Nike sent you, huh?" Zacharia croaks. "That devil's child sent you to kill me."
He coughs again, his voice hoarse.
"Sister Sylvia was right. Nike is a devil's child. She will ruin you too, I promise you."
Mnotho pauses. A deep frown settles on his face.
What the hell is going on here?
Why is this pastor defending what happened to those poor children all those years ago?
Why is he protecting this Zorro so much?
And what shocks Mnotho even more is hearing Sylvia's name.
Sylvia calling Nikky a liar. Calling a child a liar.
Calling her a devil's child.
What kind of mother does that?
Anger floods him again. Stronger and darker.
Nikky was never protected.
Never believed.
If it wasn't for Aunt Lunga, Mnotho doesn't even want to imagine what kind of harm Nikky could have suffered.
Mnotho clicks his tongue slowly.
He steps forward again and presses his hand back onto the pastor's neck. This time his eyes are dark, empty of mercy.
"Where can I find Zorro?" Mnotho asks coldly.
"And don't lie," he adds quietly. "I'll rip your fucking heart out."
Zacharia nods again and again, terrified.
"I… I don't know where he stays," he stutters. "But you can find him… at the tavern near the main road."
Mnotho remembers it.
He saw that tavern on his way here.
"You are the fucking devil hiding behind the Bible," Mnotho says slowly. "Hiding behind the church."
"And I will make sure you pay for your sins, you bastard." This is not a threat.
It is a promise.
Brian will make sure this man stays awake.
Brian will take what he needs, piece by piece.
Mnotho grabs the holy Bible from the nightstand. Without hesitation, he slams it hard against the pastor's face.
Zacharia goes limp.
He passes out.
.
.
.
Brian took Zacharia to Auckland Park.
He promised Mnotho he will do everything that is needed. He will make sure Zacharia feels pain, deep, intense pain, when Brian works on him. This will not be quick. This will not be kind.
Mnotho had thought maybe Zacharia would talk.
Maybe he would explain. Maybe there would be a civil conversation.
But no. Zacharia is just as bad as Zorro.
Just as bad as Sylvia. Just as bad as Funani.
Mnotho drives straight to the Nkabinde household.
Before stepping out of the car, he pauses. He bows his head slightly and speaks softly under his breath. He apologises to the spirits, to the Nkabinde ancestors, for barging in like this. He knows he is crossing lines. But tonight, he does not care.
He takes out Nikky's keys.
He opens the burglar gate slowly.
Then the door, careful and gentle.
He avoids making any noise. He does not want to wake Sylvia.
He steps inside and leaves the door slightly open behind him. He switches on his phone torch. The soft light fills the kitchen. He looks around, taking everything in, then walks straight to the lounge.
He stops.
There is a family portrait on the wall.
He steps closer.
The flashlight moves slowly across the picture.
The parents and the sisters.
No Nikky.
His frown deepens.
"What is going on in this house?" he whispers.
His jaw tightens. He shakes his head slowly. He cannot stay longer. He needs to go home. Still, something pulls him down the hallway.
He opens the first door.
An empty bedroom.
Neat and clean, unoccupied.
He leaves it open and moves on.
The second door.
A bedroom, Nikky's sister.
He freezes for a second, then quietly closes the door and steps back.
Not this one.
He moves to the next door. This time, he opens it slowly. Gently.
Sylvia's bedroom. She is there.
Sleeping peacefully.
Mnotho stands still and stares at her. His anger rises again, hard and heavy. This is the woman who gave birth to the woman he loves. The same woman who treated Nikky like nothing. Who hurt her. Who called her a liar. Who told people she was a devil's child.
A mother.
He steps closer to the bed.
This woman knows the truth.
She knows who Nikky's real father is.
And she has been hiding it all these years.
Mnotho looks at her for a long moment.
He knows they will meet properly soon.
Very soon.
But tonight, he just needed to see her.
"See you soon, mother-in-law," he whispers quietly.
Then he turns and walks away.

••••

PRESENT TIME…
It is 5 p.m. when Mtho drops Nikky off at her home. The gate is wide open. She already knows what that means. The people from the church are here, arranging Pastor Ngobese's funeral. Her stomach turns slightly at the thought.
The moment she reaches the kitchen door, she hears voices and loud laughter inside. It sounds wrong. Too cheerful for a house that is supposed to be mourning.
She steps inside the kitchen and finds Futhi leaning against the counter, scrolling through her phone like nothing is happening.
"Futhi, hey," Nikky greets her sister warmly, forcing a small smile.
Futhi lifts her head and grins when she sees her.
"You made it," she says. "Mom was about to call you," she adds, giggling softly.
Nikky rolls her eyes. Of course she was. Her mother never misses a chance to apply pressure.
"Yeah," Nikky says with a tired sigh. "Mom seems to forget that I have a job."
She really did knock off early today. She went to the nail technician, got her nails done, and bought a few things for tomorrow's trips. She already feels stretched thin. Baking seven buckets of biscuits is not happening this time. She's busy. And exhausted.
Nikky digs into her purse, pulls out a R200 note, and hands it to Futhi.
"Here," she says gently. "Go buy data. I need to go talk to Mom."
Futhi's face lights up instantly. She jumps up and down, unable to contain her excitement.
"Thank you! Thank you! You are the best and most beautiful sister in the world!" Futhi says, laughing as she grabs the money.
Nikky scoffs softly. She knows this routine well. Younger siblings suddenly become poets the moment money is involved.
Futhi walks out of the kitchen, singing loudly, her joy echoing through the yard.
Nikky watches her go, then lets out a slow breath. The noise from the lounge drifts toward her again. Laughter. Voices. Church people settling in like they belong here. But they always do, this is like their second home.
She gathers herself.
Then she turns and makes her way to the lounge.

She finds her mother sitting with Ruth and Puleng. Puleng is part of the youth choir and also the head of the youth, or whatever title she carries now. Nikky almost rolls her eyes. She did not expect to find Ruth here. Ruth is warm one day and cold the next. Still, Nikky forces a smile, greets them politely, and takes a seat.
"Wow, what a beautiful dress. I love it," Puleng says softly, her voice sincere.
Nikky smiles. "Thank you. It's been a while. We should connect sometime," she says. She knows she is lying. She wants nothing to do with the church or its people. She only comes when her mother asks.
Puleng smiles warmly. "We should. You should also meet my twins. I gave birth last year. They are growing so fast now," she says excitedly.
Nikky smiles again, but something stings inside her. Her heart sinks with quiet pain as she thinks about the babies she lost. She often wonders how her children would have turned out. Would they look like her? Would they laugh like her?
"Nike, we need seven buckets of biscuits," Sylvia says suddenly. She places her notebook on the coffee table. "You can bake two for now, for the mourners. They need something to eat with tea."
Nikky exhales slowly. No greeting. No how are you. Straight to business.
"I'm sorry, Ma. That won't happen," Nikky says calmly. "I'm really busy at work. I work seven days a week now. The clinic has been extended."
Both Ruth and Sylvia frown, tilting their heads in disapproval.
"But you can bake after knocking off," Ruth says, clearly not impressed.
Nikky shakes her head quickly. "No. I knock off around six, tired and drained. It can't happen. I'm really sorry," she says, her voice calm but firm. "Why can't you buy them?"
Ruth lets out a bitter laugh and claps her hands once.
"But you always bake five litres of biscuits. So you can do it," she says.
"It won't take long," Sylvia adds, her voice turning demanding. "The church has no money to buy seven buckets of biscuits."
"Well, we can ask church members to donate or bake them themselves," Puleng says gently, sensing the tension.
"No," Sylvia snaps, arguing with Puleng, though her eyes stay fixed on Nikky. "They are mourning. They won't be able to bake."
Today, Nikky does not back down. Seven buckets of biscuits are too much, especially for a man who did not protect her years ago.
She watches Ruth stand up and look at Puleng.
"Let's go make coffee in the kitchen," Ruth says.
Puleng stands and follows her. They leave Sylvia and Nikky alone.
Sylvia removes her reading glasses and glares at Nikky. Nikky drops her eyes, staring at her feet.
"So, you won't help us?" Sylvia asks coldly. "Who must bake for us?"
Nikky sighs heavily.
"Ma, if you really need those biscuits, ask Ntobe to bake them or buy them for you," she says with a small shrug. "I don't have money. I would need to buy a lot of ingredients to make seven buckets."
Sylvia gasps, shocked.
"You know Ntobe is married," she says sharply. "She is busy with her matrimonial home. I can't bother her. You, on the other hand, have nothing stressing you. You knock off from work and sleep. No man to serve. No family to cook for."
Nikky slowly raises her head.
"If you were married or busy with something meaningful, I would have asked someone else," Sylvia continues, her voice rising. "Don't be like this, Nikky. We need those biscuits."
Nikky lets out a short, bitter breath. Her mother knows exactly where to stab her. She stands up. She cannot stay here. These arguments never end well.
"Ma, I'm sorry," Nikky says quietly. "I won't bake or cook anything for this funeral. Find someone else. I'm tired. I'm busy too."
She picks up her purse.
"Oh, so that's it?" Sylvia says, her voice heavy with guilt. "You won't help me? I guess you won't attend the funeral either."
Nikky meets her mother's eyes. She never planned to attend this man's funeral.
"No, I won't come to the funeral," Nikky says. "Bye, Mom. I'll only bake if you need biscuits, not for that church of yours."
She walks out, leaving Sylvia gasping in shock.
In the kitchen, she finds Ruth and Puleng.
"It was lovely seeing you. I'm leaving," Nikky says politely.
"Oh, see you at the funeral," Puleng says gently.
Nikky shakes her head. "No, I won't come. I'm busy."
She turns and walks away, not waiting for a response.
This is one of those days when her mother is difficult, and Nikky knows any conversation will turn into a fight.

•••

Sylvia clicks her tongue harshly and throws the pen onto the coffee table. Ruth walks back into the lounge, a deep frown on her face, irritation written all over it.
"This girl is growing wings now," Ruth says, clearly annoyed, as she drops herself onto the couch next to Sylvia. "What is so hard about baking biscuits?"
Sylvia shakes her head slowly, still trying to process what just happened.
"I'm shocked too," she says, disbelief heavy in her voice. "She always does everything I want. What made her change her mind this time?" She pauses, then scoffs bitterly. "Am I losing my manipulating skills now?"
Ruth lets out a short huff and shakes her head.
"Maybe she's still angry about what happened years ago," she says dismissively. "Her and those kids, spreading lies."
Sylvia keeps quiet. Her foot taps against the floor, fast and impatient. Her jaw tightens. She will never ask Ntobe to do such work. Never. Ntobe is married now, busy with her beautiful matrimonial home. She deserves peace. Not hard work. Not when Nike is around.
Sylvia suddenly stands up. She pulls her phone from the charger with a sharp movement. If anyone knows what is really going on with Nike, it's Snothando. Without hesitation, she dials Sno's number and lifts the phone to her ear. It rings twice before Sno answers.
"Ma, how are you?" Sno greets respectfully.
Sylvia's heart softens immediately. Sno is respectful and warm. Nothing like the daughter she was forced to raise. That one walks around like the Queen of England, Sylvia thinks bitterly.
"Oh, Snothando," Sylvia says, sniffing softly. "We lost our pastor. He committed suicide."
The words feel heavy, even as she says them. Pastor Ngobese's death has shaken her deeply.
"Oh my God, Ma, I'm so sorry," Sno says gently. "Is there anything I can help you with? Anything at all?"
Sylvia smiles faintly.
"Yes," she says. "I asked Nike to help us with baking and cooking, but she refused. She says she's busy at work." Her voice hardens. "Imagine that. She's just an admin assistant. What is so hard about that job?"
She clicks her tongue again, anger rising. Nike only has that job because of Letsatsi. If it wasn't for him, she would be begging on the streets.
"Oh, Nike is horrible," Sno says, her voice full of sympathy. "Knowing how much the pastor and the church mean to you."
"That's what hurts me," Sylvia snaps. "She even says she has no money. No money!" Her voice drips with venom. "What is she doing with her salary when she has no child to look after?"
Sno scoffs on the other side of the line.
"She's lying to you, Ma," she says confidently. "Nike is earning good money. She's been buying expensive clothes lately. And you won't believe what she's planning."
Sylvia's eyebrows lift.
"What is she planning?" she asks, curiosity and anger mixing.
"Tomorrow she's taking that friend of hers to Durban," Sno says. "A whole weekend vacation. Expensive guest house and everything. So she does have money. Her priorities have changed. She's busy spending on Diamond now."
Sylvia gasps loudly, shocked. Her hand tightens around the phone. Nike owes her. She owes her everything. And now she's spending money on a friend instead of helping her own mother?
"She thinks she's smart, huh?" Sylvia mutters, sweat forming on her forehead.
"I know, Ma," Sno says calmly. "But don't worry. I can organise a catering company to help. I'll send them to your house tomorrow."
Relief washes over Sylvia's face. She smiles warmly.
"Thank you, my baby," she says. "How I wish you were my real daughter. Thank you so much."
She ends the call and lowers the phone slowly. Her fingers clench tightly around it. Her face hardens.
Nike will lose that job. She will make sure of it.
This job is changing her. And Sylvia will not allow it.