The Lagos morning rolled in like low thunder—heavy, slow, and filled with omens.
Inside SMG Conglomerate's innovation tower, things seemed calm. Staff laughed in the elevator. The media room buzzed with interns editing campaign videos. Floor 19—the executive level—smelled of lavender and confidence.
But in Agnes' office, there was tension. Thick as humidity.
She held the letter in her hand, reading it again, and again.
"To whom it may concern,
As per clause 12.3 of the original co-founder agreement, and due to the circumstances surrounding the withdrawal of Mr. Smith Lewis from his active role, I, Chief Joseph Banjoko, hereby file an official objection to the restructuring and seek reactivation of my voting rights."
Agnes inhaled deeply.
Joseph Banjoko. Former board member. Old guard.
A man who had once told her at 19 that "Women can't lead warships. They sink feelings, not steel."
Now, after all the dust had settled, after she rebuilt the company from its fractured, scandalous past—he was resurfacing.
Not as a consultant. Not as a supporter.
But as a threat.
Elsewhere in Lagos – Victoria Island
Joseph Banjoko sipped bitter espresso in the quiet of his penthouse, scanning the latest news blogs.
Agnes was winning.
Too fast. Too boldly.
And that irritated him.
"She's turning SMG into a sympathy engine," he muttered, "not a legacy titan."
His aide, a younger man named Fredrick, entered with a tablet.
"She's filing for full digital transition of the company's backend by December," he said. "That includes sunsetting old affiliate codes."
Joseph frowned. "You mean the same backend tied to my dormant equity shares?"
Fredrick nodded.
"If she sunsets that system, you'll lose access to all the silent pipelines you left behind."
Joseph's voice darkened.
"Then we hit first. Trigger doubt. Leak instability. And make the board believe she's not ready for the next evolution."
Fredrick hesitated. "Sir, with all due respect—Agnes Lewis is very public now. Very supported."
Joseph smiled.
"Good. The higher the pedestal, the farther the fall."
Back at SMG – Echo Studio
Majek stood in front of a touchscreen wall, presenting a new interface model for The Adebayo Initiative.
The interns listened closely, but his eyes kept drifting to the glass wall across the studio.
Agnes stood there. Not watching him. Just staring at her phone, still, silent, unreadable.
When the session ended, he found her by the elevator.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
She handed him the letter.
He read it. His jaw tightened. "He's back?"
"I knew it was only a matter of time."
Majek rubbed the back of his neck. "What's the board saying?"
"They're divided. Some of the older members still respect his weight in the industry. One even suggested I 'consult' him for guidance."
He looked at her. "You're not really considering it, right?"
"No," she said flatly. "But this isn't a physical attack. It's psychological. Legal. Strategic."
Majek nodded. "So we counter it the same way."
"How?"
He looked at her with that slow, quiet confidence that used to make her heart ache.
"Not all fire burns," he said. "Some fire reveals."
That Night – Agnes' Apartment
Agnes and Majek sat at the dining table surrounded by open folders, legal documents, digital printouts of past contracts.
"He's claiming active board rights through a clause your father didn't nullify," Majek said. "But if we can prove he divested illegally during the Goriola partnership—"
"We can argue breach of silence and strip him of shareholder authority," Agnes finished.
Majek looked at her with admiration. "You were always going to be brilliant. I just didn't know I'd get to watch it up close."
She smiled, a little tired. "And you? How does it feel being pulled into corporate war again?"
"I survived bullets and betrayal," he said, squeezing her hand. "I can survive boardroom politics."
One Week Later – Emergency Board Meeting
Agnes stood before the entire SMG board.
Her tone was calm, but her words were fire.
"Chief Banjoko's attempt to reclaim control is not only premature—it's rooted in deceptive clauses. During the 2016 merger with Goriola Holdings, he funneled assets off-record, breaching fiscal transparency standards."
She tapped the projector.
Screens lit up with evidence: emails, wire transfers, scanned handwritten notes.
Gasps filled the room.
Even the oldest board members exchanged uneasy looks.
Banjoko rose from his seat, red-faced. "This is a witch hunt!"
"No," Agnes said. "This is a house cleaning. And you brought the dirt."
Later That Day
Agnes and Majek walked along the Marina promenade, the city glowing around them.
"You didn't just win," he said. "You ended his reign."
"Feels... strange," she said. "Like I finally closed a door that was always half open."
He nodded.
Then paused.
"Agnes, what if this isn't over?"
"What do you mean?"
"Banjoko isn't the only one who resents change. You're a young woman. You've restructured a male-led empire. You chose transparency over control. There are others like him. Waiting. Watching."
She met his gaze.
"Then let them watch. Because I didn't climb out of fire just to be afraid of shadows."
Final Scene – Agnes' Journal Entry
I used to think power meant fear. That the louder you spoke, the more you ruled. But now I know—true power is earned in silence. In endurance. In walking through fire and choosing not to burn someone else with the flame you carried.
Majek told me once that not all fire burns. That some fire reveals.
Now I believe him. Because I found myself in the fire.
And I'm still here.