Abeni's POV
The fire didn't kill Steve Adewale.
But it did something worse.
It made him believe he could survive me.
Foolish.
Men always forget—wars may be started by kings, but they're finished by queens.
I lit the last candle on my father's shrine. His voice no longer haunted me.
Now, it echoed as command.
"Strike when he's weak. And never miss."
Steve was weak.
Not in muscle.
In heart.
She was his weakness.
The Rose.
And I was going to pluck her—petal by petal—until nothing but thorns remained.
Steve's POV
The betrayal came in the form of a bullet.
Not aimed at me—but at Korede.
We were meeting in the abandoned church on Ilaje Street, going over relocation plans for the safehouse when the glass shattered.
One shot.
Straight through Korede's shoulder.
He hit the ground hard, blood painting the floor in strokes of red desperation.
"Sniper," he groaned.
But I already knew.
The bullet was military-grade.
Custom etched with the letter A.
Abeni.
She wasn't hiding anymore.
She was sending messages.
And now… it was war.
Jomiloju's POV
I saw the blood before I saw the man.
Steve kicked open the hotel door, one arm dragging Korede across the floor, the other already dialing.
My stomach dropped.
I rushed to grab towels.
"He needs a hospital," I said, heart racing.
"No hospitals," Steve barked. "She's watching the ERs."
I froze.
"She?"
He looked at me.
"Abeni. She made her move."
Something in me snapped.
Not fear.
Resolve.
"I want in," I said.
He blinked. "In what?"
"The counterstrike. The planning. The war. I'm not going to be another hidden girl with secrets in her veins. I want to fight."
He stared at me like he was seeing me for the first time.
Then he nodded.
Once.
Like a king accepting his queen's sword.
Abeni's POV
I didn't need to kill Steve.
Not yet.
What I needed was to undo him.
Publicly.
With whispers.
With proof.
That's why I sent the second envelope.
This one to the Lagos tabloids.
Inside: footage of Steve as a teenager—carving his family's crest into a dead man's body.
It was graphic.
Cruel.
Real.
And perfectly timed.
By noon, his name was trending on every dark feed.
By sunset, the Five Families had called an emergency council.
His power base would start bleeding soon.
And when it did?
I would take it all.
Steve's POV
"They've turned," Korede muttered from the couch, pale and half-conscious.
"I know."
The video had done its job.
Mafia families that once feared me were now questioning if I was out of control.
Dangerous.
Unreliable.
What they didn't realize?
That boy in the video?
He was dead.
And the man I'd become?
He had nothing left to lose.
Except her.
And I would never lose her.
Jomiloju's POV
I pulled up the video.
Watched it in silence.
Steve didn't stop me.
When it ended, I said nothing.
I simply walked to him, took his hand, and kissed the scar on his knuckle.
He flinched.
"I'm not afraid of your past," I whispered.
"You should be."
"No. I'm afraid of a world that thinks that version of you is the only one that matters."
He closed his eyes.
I touched his chest.
"Let me help you build something different. We don't have to fight like them."
"You want to be a queen?"
"I want to be your queen."
Abeni's POV
She was stronger than I'd expected.
The girl.
She should've run.
Should've begged.
Instead, she'd chosen to stand.
That made things… interesting.
And dangerous.
For her.
That night, I called an emergency summit.
Six crime lords.
One throne.
"Steve Adewale is a liability," I told them. "He's protecting the daughter of a politician. And the girl has secrets none of you understand."
"Why should we believe you?" one asked.
I smiled.
And played the final card.
A photo.
Jomiloju.
Standing next to Senator Dorotoye's hidden second wife.
Not her mother.
Her aunt.
Also known as the true financier of Koleosho's first war.
"She's not just his daughter," I whispered. "She's his weapon."
Silence.
Then chaos.
Exactly as planned.
Steve's POV
Korede had barely recovered when we got the second tip.
Another council.
This time with a vote.
"They're deciding if you get sanctioned," he said.
Sanctioned.
A polite word for eliminated.
We needed allies.
Fast.
That's when Jomi stood up and dropped a folder on the table.
"What's this?" I asked.
"Records. Every financial document my father tried to bury. Proof he funded half the Families at some point. I can turn their guns on each other with one broadcast."
"You're serious."
Her eyes flared with something raw.
"I'm done being protected. It's my turn to fight."
And God help them all… I believed her.
Jomiloju's POV
I stood in front of the underground camera Korede had set up.
No makeup. No script.
Just truth.
"My name is Jomiloju Dorotoye. And for twenty-one years, I lived under a lie."
I told them everything.
The chip.
The kidnapping.
My father's secret deals with underworld families.
And most of all?
That I wasn't afraid anymore.
"They built a rose garden from blood," I said. "Now I'm the one holding the shears."
The video went live at midnight.
By 1:00 a.m., the streets were whispering.
By dawn?
The war had begun.