Pastor Elias tried to steal my comatose mother's legacy, but my secret call exposed his true evil.
The hospital corridor immediately erupted into a chaotic murmur. Ayanna’s camera continued to click, snapping photos as Elias and his entourage vanished around the corner. Nurses and hospital staff exchanged wide-eyed glances, their hushed conversations filling the space left by the pastor’s angry exit.
Imani turned to me, her hand resting firmly on my shoulder.
“He couldn’t force her, J.J.,” she said, her voice a low reassurance.
“The injunction prevents any immediate transfer of Nia’s assets.”
“We’ve bought ourselves crucial time.”
I nodded, my breath still coming in ragged gasps. The relief was immense, a heavy weight lifting from my small chest. The image of Elias’s furious eyes, the silent threat he’d leveled at Malachi, lingered. He was wounded, but not broken.
“What about Malachi?” I whispered, looking at the Elder who stood a few feet away, his face pale but resolute.
Imani walked over to him. “Brother Malachi, are you alright?”
Malachi nodded slowly. “I am. The truth has been spoken. That is what matters.”
“But now Elias knows it was you,” Imani warned, her voice concerned.
“He will come after you.”
“I am prepared for that,” Malachi replied, though his hands trembled slightly as he ran them over his tablet.
“My spiritual integrity is worth more than my place in Elias’s Collective.”
“We need to get you somewhere safe,” Imani insisted.
“At least for tonight.”
She pulled out her phone, already making arrangements. Malachi looked at me and offered a small, weary smile.
“Your mother is a strong woman, J.J.,” he said.
“And you are your mother’s son.”
I looked back into Nia’s room, the white hospital sheet still disheveled where Elias had been. I walked to her bedside, taking her hand. It felt cool, fragile. I squeezed it gently.
A faint, almost imperceptible squeeze.
My breath caught. I squeezed again. Another faint pressure.
My eyes widened. “Mama?”
Imani and Malachi looked over.
“A very good sign, J.J.,” Imani said, a hopeful smile gracing her lips.
“It shows she’s fighting, she’s aware.”
“She knows you’re here.”
A warmth spread through me, pushing away some of the lingering fear. Mama was still with us. She was still fighting.
Meanwhile, Ayanna Jones moved swiftly. She was already interviewing a sympathetic-looking nurse who had witnessed the scene. I could hear her voice, calm and professional, asking pointed questions about the “emergency” and the “Pastor’s behavior.”
The story began to ripple almost immediately. Within hours, news of the incident reached the New Dawn Collective. My phone, which I used sparingly, buzzed with messages from other kids and a few adults.
“Did you hear what happened at the hospital?”
“Pastor Elias was confronted by lawyers and a journalist!”
“They said he was trying to take Sister Nia’s land!”
The whispers turned into open debate. At the Collective’s main campus, I imagined the heated discussions, the members gathering in small groups, their faith in Elias now shaken, even if they wouldn’t admit it publicly yet.
“He always said it was for the good of all,” I heard a Collective member, Brother Thomas, tell his wife outside the hospital, his voice tight with confusion.
“But to do that to Sister Nia, in her state…”
His wife just shook her head, her face grim. “I always had my doubts about the way he handled the finances. Too much secrecy.”
The visible divisions Imani had spoken of were starting to form. Elias’s carefully constructed image of spiritual infallibility was cracking. His attempt to use the “Vow of Collective Prosperity” to cement his power had backfired spectacularly, turning into a public spectacle of his own greed.
Elias, I knew, wouldn’t take this defeat lightly. He would be planning his next move, perhaps even more ruthless than before. But he had been exposed. His authority, once unquestioned, was now under scrutiny.
Imani remained by my side, making calls, coordinating with Ayanna. Malachi, after ensuring he had a discreet place to stay, quietly slipped away, carrying the heavy burden of his decision. The fight for Nia’s legacy, and for the true soul of the New Dawn Collective, had just entered a new, volatile phase.
I looked at Mama, her small hand warm in mine. She was fighting, and so would I. We had bought time, and time was hope.
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