Who steps through that door—Shayla, karma, or someone even more dangerous?
And when the truth finally cracks open, who’s really setting the trap… and who’s about to fall in?
THE LINE THEY CROSSED”
INT. IMAN’S APARTMENT – NIGHT
Dim warm lights. A silence that feels borrowed—like it could vanish if anyone breathes too loudly.
IMAN sits on the edge of the couch, tapping his foot, trying to look relaxed… failing miserably.
Across from him, DELICIA leans back in an oversized hoodie—the same color and cut as Shayla’s signature one. A quiet challenge.
DELICIA
(smirk)
You’re acting like I forced you to invite me here.
IMAN
I’m acting like someone who knows Shayla doesn’t forgive…
she detonates.
A beat. Delicia’s eyes sharpen, amused yet knowing.
DELICIA
You think she knows already?
IMAN
I think she always knows.
(pauses)
Especially when she’s losing control.
Delicia studies him. A slow smile curls.
DELICIA
Control was the first thing she lost when she took that fifty grand from you.
Iman freezes. His jaw tightens—guilt, fear, and something darker simmering underneath.
IMAN
That money wasn’t supposed to turn into a weapon.
DELICIA
(leaning in)
Everything is a weapon if you give it to the wrong person.
Silence. Electric. Dangerous.
Silence. Electric. Dangerous.
WAYNE’S BARBERSHOP – DAY
Buzzing clippers. Hood gossip in full swing.
WAYNE wipes down his chair like he’s preparing it for battle.
WAYNE
(to customer)
Man, Shayla’s real quiet lately.
And when Shayla gets quiet?
(throat-cutting gesture)
Somebody ’bout to bleed.
Barbers laugh nervously. Nobody disagrees.
CUSTOMER
You think it’s about Iman?
WAYNE
It’s about Delicia.
People keep forgetting—
Shayla ain’t jealous.
She’s vindictive.
A hush falls. Everyone knows what Shayla did to Amber.
Everyone remembers the aftermath.
Wayne sighs—a heavy, prophetic exhale.
WAYNE
Her karma’s walking to her door…
and it ain’t knocking.
DELICIA’S CAR – NIGHT
Parked across from Iman’s building. Rain taps on the roof like impatient fingers.
Delicia counts a small stack of cash—Iman’s “keep this between us” money.
She doesn’t admire it.
She measures it.
A long, calculated inhale.
DELICIA
(whispering to herself)
He thinks I took this to be quiet…
But quiet ain’t my style.
She tucks the money away, pulls out her phone, and snaps a picture of the building.
Then another.
Then one of herself—wearing the same style of suit Shayla once gifted to Ant.
A deliberate mirror.
DELICIA
(smiling darkly)
Let the games begin.
SHAYLA’S LIVING ROOM – EVENING
Shayla stands in the doorway, frozen.
The house papers on the table.
The unpaid balance circled in red.
Fury trembling through her fingers.
She drops onto the couch, eyes wide, breathing fast.
She scrolls her phone…
Stops on a blurry but unmistakable photo sent from an unknown number:
DELICIA — in the suit.
Standing near Iman’s apartment.
Shayla’s entire body locks.
SHAYLA
(low, venomous)
So that’s what we’re doing now?
She rises slowly—like something waking up that shouldn’t.
Her voice cracks with betrayal.
SHAYLA
He gave her money he owed me…
and she took it.
Her eyes glaze. A shift.
Something breaking.
Something entering jail-mode, exactly like Wayne predicted.
SHAYLA
It’s fine.
(smiles)
It’s all… fine.
But her trembling hands tell a different story.
IMAN’S APARTMENT – LATE NIGHT
Iman pours two glasses—nothing alcoholic.
He’s keeping it clean now, thanks to Delicia… or maybe because Shayla’s influence is fading.
Delicia stands near the window, watching the street below with calculating eyes.
A heavy stillness between them.
IMAN
Look…
I didn’t invite you here to start something messy.
DELICIA
(turning, soft but edged)
Iman, messy is the only language everyone in this circle understands.
She steps closer.
IMAN
And what language do you speak?
Delicia touches the lapel of her suit—Shayla’s old style—smooth, slow, intentional.
DELICIA
I speak the one people listen to…
when their secrets are in my hands.
Iman swallows, suddenly aware he might’ve walked into a trap he thought he set.
IMAN
Delicia…
We need to be smart about this.
DELICIA
Oh, I’m being smart.
(pauses)
Are you?
Thunder outside.
The room dims—lights flicker.
A phone vibrates on the counter.
Iman picks it up… and goes pale.
It’s a message from an unknown number:
“I know.”
Just that.
Delicia sees his expression and smiles slowly.
DELICIA
Shayla?
Iman nods, terrified.
DELICIA
(whispers)
Good.
Because the moment she walks through that door…
everything truly begins.
A sudden loud CLACK.
The hallway door downstairs slams open.
Iman and Delicia both freeze.
Footsteps.
Fast.
Purposeful.
Coming up the stairwell.
Delicia smirks—thrilled.
Iman looks like his soul just left his body.
IMAN
(whispering)
No… no, she wouldn’t—
DELICIA
Oh, she would.
And she is.
The footsteps stop right outside.
A shadow under the door.
Still.
Waiting.
A faint metallic click, like nails tapping.
Iman’s breath shakes.
Delicia’s smile widens.
The doorknob begins to turn.
CUT TO BLACK.
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