K#lling the Billionaire's Brother

Nkule and his wife—Cindy—had been driving for some hours now. They were at the early stage of an argument when the car had a sudden jerk and he had to stop the car. The night with its rain made it hard for clear vision. Nkule was not sure if he had hurt anyone. The door pulled open from his side. The man standing outside, started grabbing Nkule out of the car but Nkule fought so hard to keep his seat. The man in the dark started hitting his gun against Nkule’s head. Another went in with a kn*fe. He plunged it right into Nkule’s chest. Cindy could only scream as loud as she could, seeing the violence imposed on herself and her husband. Strengthless, she was ineffectively pulling her husband towards herself, with the baby in her arms. A pull of the door at her side now. This was the third man of the gang; he targeted her and the baby. Cindy screamed even louder now. By then, she was spilt with the blood of her husband. He was numerously poked with the blade to death. They dragged his corpse out of the car. The baby was snatched from Cindy’s arms. She was hauled out and through the process she saw them damp her husband over the bridge. The man holding her baby could not take any more of her struggle. He thrust her at the car. She went head first and then tumbled on the ground. One of the two men went and picked her up. She was terrified and rageful. She cruelly bit his thumb tearing off a bit of his flesh through the glove that he wore. She, thereafter, let herself tumble for her knees were too weak to carry her. He gave his hand a shake to wear off the pain. He picked her up. She dug her nails in his chest and he quickly shoved her off. He brushed the pain off his chest. Now he was angry. Cindy’s hurtful, piercing cry filled the air that night but pitifully, there was no-one else around to hear her. He tossed her in her boot and shut it. She cried and banged but it only sounded like a noise trapped in an air-tight bottle. “The baby?” asked the man carrying the baby, “What do we do with it?” The other suggested, “Do we kill it?” All those questions were directed to the one who orchestrated the attack. The two other men were only there to help him. Surely, he would know what to do with the baby. “Kill it?” the man holding the baby quickly objected, “I can’t kill a baby!” “No,” the man finally answered. He went and took the baby, “We don’t kill it.” He looked into the blanket. “I will care for it. It’s the only thing left of him.”