Akosua.
The boardroom smelled of polished wood, fresh leather, and restrained tension.
It was the kind of tension that crept into your lungs slowly and refused to leave. The kind that made grown men sit straighter, adjust their ties, and pretend they were calm when they weren't.
Kofi sat at the head of the long table, shoulders tight, jaw clenched, fingers resting flat against the glossy surface. His eyes flicked to the door every few seconds, then to his watch, then back again. He looked like a man bracing for impact.
The board members murmured quietly among themselves. Some whispered in low tones. Others scrolled through tablets they weren't really reading. A few checked their watches openly, impatience beginning to show.
They were waiting.
For me.
I arrived late—on purpose.
Timing was power.
And patience was my weapon.
I stepped into the room with my bag resting loosely in one hand, my posture relaxed, my expression unreadable. My heels clicked softly against the marble floor, each sound deliberate. Not rushed. Not apologetic.
Every click announced my presence.
Every step reminded them that I was not shaken.
"Good morning," I said gently, offering a polite smile as I met their eyes one by one. "I trust everyone is ready?"
The room stilled instantly.
Conversations died mid-sentence. Pens stopped moving. Screens dimmed.
Kofi looked up at me, relief flashing across his face before tension quickly reclaimed its place. His jaw tightened—not because of me, but because of the woman he knew was coming.
I took my seat calmly, smoothing my skirt, crossing my legs with ease. Only then did I turn to him.
"And Kofi," I added softly, my voice steady, "I request that Princess Adjoa be present for this session."
The air shifted.
Murmurs returned—sharper now. Board members exchanged glances. One of them cleared his throat. Another leaned back slowly, already sensing trouble.
Kofi's eyes widened slightly. He leaned toward me. "Are you sure?" he asked quietly.
"Yes," I replied without hesitation. "It is the best way forward."
I met his gaze fully now. "She must understand how this empire works. Let her witness everything firsthand."
Let her see who carries the knowledge.
His fingers drummed against the table. I could see the conflict on his face—duty battling emotion. Finally, with visible reluctance, he nodded.
A moment later, the doors opened.
Princess Adjoa walked in as though the world owed her space.
Tall. Perfectly dressed. Regal in posture and arrogance. Her presence filled the room immediately, not with authority—but entitlement.
She didn't look at me at first.
Her gaze locked onto Kofi instead, slow and possessive, a smile curving her lips as if she was already victorious.
"Good morning," she said sweetly, her voice smooth, silk hiding venom. "I hear you asked for me."
I inclined my head respectfully. "Thank you for coming, Princess."
Her eyes finally slid to me—cool, dismissive. She scanned the room like every chair belonged to her, like every decision had already been made.
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything important," she added lightly.
Several board members shifted uncomfortably. Kofi ran a hand through his hair, frustration flickering across his face.
I inhaled slowly.
Calm.
Soft.
Collected.
"Let's begin," I said evenly. "I'll walk us through the current projects, expansion plans, and the strategic decisions that will shape this company for years to come."
I stood, turning on the projector. The screen lit up. Charts. Numbers. Projections.
I spoke with clarity—explaining market trends, partnerships, regional expansions, risk management, and sustainable growth strategies. My voice was steady. Confident. Familiar.
The room listened.
Heads nodded.
Pens scribbled.
Interest returned.
Then she interrupted.
"No," Adjoa said sharply.
I paused only for a heartbeat before continuing.
She scoffed loudly. "That won't work."
I clicked to the next slide calmly.
"You're wasting time on outdated ideas," she continued. "Do you even understand what you're talking about?"
A ripple of discomfort spread across the table.
"The numbers are sound," I replied gently. "These strategies have been tested—"
"No," she snapped, cutting me off. "I know better. You're slow. Unimpressive. Why Kofi keeps listening to you is beyond me."
A sharp inhale echoed across the room.
Kofi stiffened. "Adjoa," he warned, his voice low, dangerous, "this is not the time."
She ignored him completely.
"This woman is misleading all of you," she said, pointing at me. "She's naive and overestimating her importance."
I folded my hands calmly, resting them on the table.
"Princess," I said softly, "please allow us to proceed."
She laughed—short and cruel. "You count numbers but understand nothing about power."
"Knowledge," I replied evenly, meeting her gaze, "combined with patience, outlasts arrogance."
The room went dead silent.
"You're insulting me!" she snapped, leaning forward.
"I am teaching," I said quietly. "Nothing more."
That was when Kofi slammed his hand on the table.
"Enough!" he roared. "Sit down, Adjoa. Now. Or I will reconsider everything."
For the first time, her confidence cracked.
Her lips parted slightly. Her eyes flicked around the room—realizing she had lost the audience.
The meeting ended shortly after.
No one spoke as we stood. Chairs scraped softly. Papers were gathered in silence. The tension lingered like smoke long after she stormed out.
I walked toward the elevator calmly.
My phone vibrated.
A message.
Unknown number.
I know your mission is not business—but Kofi.
Be warned.
Kofi is mine.
And I will fight you with my last blood.
I stared at the screen for a long moment.
Then I smiled faintly.
Calm.
Soft.
Patient.
But ready.
Because now I knew the truth.
This was no longer about an empire.
It was about possession.
And the war for Kofi Agyeman had officially begun.