I backed away, appalled at what I see in front of me. Willoby and his friend stared at me. I rearward into my bodyguard. Whose hand held on to his crotch, “Sorry man, but she kicked me really hard,” wincing, with the glare of a rabid carnivore.

Silence dominated the scene for a while. I reverse towards the entrance, and Willoby got up and followed me. My bodyguard turned in the opposite direction holding his groin, mumbling obscenities. I angle around and ran up the steps. Grabbed the door handle. Pulling hard enough for the entire door to shed its hinges. It didn’t budge. I slowly curved facing him, defeated. Willoby was standing at the foot of the steps alone. His arms folded. His eyes glued on me.

From the look of rage I sent him, he shouted, “You have a better financial plan, please, let me hear it,” he suggested.

I was penniless. Nowhere else to go. No better idea or ways of finding out the truth, but I just wasn’t ready to give up yet. Nodding, I shoot out at him, “Not this way.”

“Set one foot out that door, and it’s all over. Your parents’ killer. Who your real parents are? Who killed Wells and Ivan? What the Yellow Hibiscus is, everything. It’s dirty money. I know that. I have no choice, can’t you see. I am not only doing this for you, but I promised Rosa.”

“I know,” I cried ambling down towards him. “But not like this.”