K#lling the Billionaire's Brother

Chapter 3| Death of the Billionaire

Nkule tried to make peace with the baby that he suspected was not his. He decided that he would take care of it and love it as his own. It also helped that he loved his brother and so loving a child he believed to be his brother’s would come easily to him.

However, their honeymoon was over, and they were retuning home. It was strange for Nkule to retrack his decision. Through the entire honeymoon, he had been an active father to the little baby, but now, he did not want it anymore. He was questioning Cindy if the baby was his.

Cindy could not believe it, “How... how do you even ask that?” She felt insulted. “Nkule, what...” She ran out of possible words to say. She turned to her side of the window not wanting to see him anymore.

He faced the road. “I just want to know if I can trust you.”

“Well, by doubting me? What makes you reject your child?!”

“I’m not rejecting it.”

“It?! Is that what he is to you? An ‘it’? A thing to you?”

“Now, you better calm down, Cindy. We are on the road and there’s a baby in the car.”

She held silence. She was mad at him.

A sudden jerk along the road. It felt like Nkule hit something. He had to check to make sure, and so, he stopped the car. The night with its rain made it hard for clear vision. He was not sure if he had hurt anyone. Suddenly, his door pulled open. A giant man appeared from nowhere and started started grabbing Nkule out of the car but Nkule fought so hard to remain on his seat.

The man in the dark started hitting his gun against Nkule’s head. Another man came in with a sharp bladed and started stabbing at him. Cindy screamed as loud as she could, maybe someone might come and help them. She was trying so hard to pull her husband towards herself, while still carrying her baby in her arms.

There was a third man that came by and he went and opened the door to Cindy’s side. He targeted her and the baby. She screamed even louder now. By then, she was splattered with the blood of her husband. He was numerously stabbed to death. They dragged his corpse out of the car. The baby was snatched from her arms. She was hauled out of the car 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 who had just thrown the body over the bridge went and picked Cindy up. She was terrified and rageful. She cruelly bit his thumb tearing off a bit of his flesh through the glove he wore. She, thereafter, let herself tumble again because her knees were far too weak to carry her.

He gave his hand a shake to wear off the pain. He picked her up again but she dug her nails in his chest and he quickly shoved her off. Now he was angry. He became aggressive with her now. Her hurtful, piercing cry filled the air that night but pitifully, there was no-one else around to hear. He tossed her in the boot (trunk) and shut it closed. 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 the baby?”

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.”