Akosua.
The office was silent. Almost oppressively so. Even the city below seemed to pause, as if it too knew that today, something significant would end.
I stood in the center of the boardroom, the long glass table gleaming under the sunlight streaming through the windows. Every document, every report, every strategy I had perfected over two years was now laid out. Perfectly organized. Ready. Waiting for someone else to take it—and, perhaps, ruin it.
Kofi stood beside me, tense. His eyes flickered between me and Princess Adjoa, his hands clenched slightly at his sides. He had the look of a man caught between duty and desire. Between loyalty and expectation. Between the woman who had built his empire… and the royal obligations that now bound him.
Princess Adjoa lounged on the edge of the table, silk cascading over her knees, her smile calm, poised—but it didn't reach her eyes. I could see the fire behind it, the simmering jealousy every time Kofi glanced at me, the frustration that he still listened to me more than her.
I drew a deep breath and began.
"Everything here," I said, gesturing to the documents, "represents two years of planning, execution, and countless nights without sleep. You will not find shortcuts. You will not succeed if you underestimate the work behind these numbers."
Kofi nodded, silently. Princess Adjoa tilted her head, lips pressed into a thin line. "Of course," she said, too sweetly. "We understand it all. It seems simple enough."
I let the silence linger. Simple? Nothing here was simple. But she would learn, eventually.
I went over the first project: supply chain, international contracts, investor relations. Kofi absorbed every word. Adjoa nodded, claimed comprehension, yet her fingers tapped nervously against the table. Pride would be her undoing.
Hours passed. I explained, corrected, demonstrated. My patience was tested, yet I remained calm, professional. I answered Kofi's questions carefully, never condescending. I ignored the Princess's interruptions unless absolutely necessary, letting her overconfidence and arrogance speak for themselves.
By mid-afternoon, the formal handover was scheduled. A moment I had dreaded yet expected.
Queen Afia Agyeman appeared without warning. Regal, imposing, every inch the ruler she was. Her presence filled the room, making silence heavier.
"Kofi," she said sharply, "take notes. Princess Adjoa, I expect your full attention. Akosua, ensure they understand everything before you leave. This is the last day you will manage this empire."
I swallowed. The words were expected. But they still stung. My work. My nights. My blood and sweat. Handed over like a gift, like a tool. Disposable. Forgotten.
I maintained my composure. Always. That was my strength.
The Princess, predictably, tried to charm. "I understand everything perfectly," she said, voice dripping confidence. "No need to belabor it."
I smiled, polite but sharp. "Confidence is not mastery. Watch carefully. Learn thoroughly. Your arrogance may cost this empire if you do not respect what has been built."
Her eyes narrowed, lips pressed in annoyance. Kofi's jaw tightened. I noticed. Good. Let him feel the tension, let him see the cracks forming.
We moved through every project, every decision, every contingency. I explained in detail, repeated instructions, emphasized weak points. The Princess scribbled notes, but I knew she would forget or dismiss them once the challenge was real. Kofi followed carefully, absorbing, weighing, but saying little.
Finally, I handed over the last folder.
"This," I said, "is everything. All the work. Every projection, every deal, every contingency plan. Use it wisely. Mismanage it… and you will see why I was indispensable."
Princess Adjoa smiled, sweet and condescending. "Thank you, Akosua. I'm sure it will be easy now."
I froze. Easy? The nerve. The arrogance. I could feel it burning under my skin.
Kofi stepped forward. "Akosua…" His voice was low, almost pleading. "I… I wish—"
I cut him off gently, firmly. "No, Kofi. No words. I've already given everything I could. What you do now is your choice."
Queen Afia watched silently. Approving, I suspected, of the tension I had created. Perfect. Let the Princess feel the weight of responsibility before she crushed it under pride.
I turned toward the elevator. Each step echoed in the hall. The empire I had nurtured, fought for, bled over… now belonged to others.
And yet, I walked with my head high. Always. That was my choice. That was my strength.
The doors closed behind me, and I allowed myself a small exhale. Freedom, finally. But bitter.
I stepped outside into the late afternoon sun. Accra stretched below, golden, restless, and alive. For two years, I had given my soul to this city, to this empire. And now… it was time for a new path. My path.
As I hailed a taxi, my phone vibrated. One message. A single line that made my pulse race.
"Do not be underestimated. —K"
I smiled faintly. Underestimated? They had no idea what was coming next.