A pause.
He was listening to Ms. Sterling’s reply.
“Write down the PIN. 3‑8‑0‑6. The card is in her purse. The black Midwest Trust one. Take it all. She’s got over a hundred and twenty thousand in there.”
Kiana closed her eyes.
There it was.
The exact thing she had been waiting for.
Now, in this moment, everything was decided, finally.
There was no more doubt, hesitation, or pity.
Only cold, clear certainty.
“Just tonight, so she doesn’t have time to block it in the morning,” Darius continued. “I’ll tell her tomorrow that the card was stolen on the bus. We’ll split it fifty‑fifty. Deal?”
Another pause.
Then he muttered a short,
“Go get it.”
Click.
The conversation was over.
Kiana lay there staring at the ceiling.
Inside, it was surprisingly quiet.
No pain, no disappointment.
Just a faint, almost ironic curiosity about what they would feel when everything went wrong.
Darius returned a couple of minutes later, lay down carefully, pulled up the blanket, and breathed unevenly, nervously.
He was clearly anxious.
Kiana smiled in the darkness.
Don’t worry, she thought.
You’ll be much more anxious soon.
She turned onto her side, getting comfortable.
She didn’t want to sleep, but she had to pretend.
She closed her eyes, relaxed her shoulders, and slowed her breathing.
Let him think she hadn’t heard anything.
Let him hope.
Time crawled by.
Kiana listened to the dripping faucet behind the wall, the wind whistling in the window frame, and Darius tossing and turning under the blanket.
He clearly couldn’t fall asleep.
He was probably running the plan through his head, imagining his mother withdrawing the money, how they would split the spoils, and how he would pretend to be shocked and outraged tomorrow.
Kiki, the card was stolen. Scammers. We need to call the bank immediately.
A pathetic performance—but they apparently believed it would work.
About thirty or forty minutes passed.
Kiana was starting to drift off for real when Darius’s phone suddenly vibrated fiercely on the nightstand.
He jumped as if he’d been stung, grabbed the phone, and stared at the screen.
Even in the dark, Kiana could see his face turn pale, almost gray.
The screen showed “Mom.”
The message was long.
The text flashed, but Kiana clearly saw the beginning.
Son, she knew everything. Something’s happening to me…
Darius froze.
Then he quickly turned and looked at his wife.
She lay motionless, eyes closed, breathing evenly and deeply.
He stared for ten seconds, then sprang out of bed and rushed out of the bedroom, leaving the door ajar.
Kiana opened her eyes.
The hall light came on.
She heard Darius pacing frantically around the apartment, muttering something under his breath.
Then the click of a lighter, the smell of cigarette smoke.
He was smoking right in the apartment, even though he always went out onto the small balcony for that.
