The room softened again once they were gone. Wine filled our glasses and memories filled the space between us. Nyori began telling a story that had happened years ago. Abeni laughed so hard she leaned into the pillow beside her, and I found myself laughing too, even though I could still feel the heaviness sitting at the back of my mind. Every time I drifted, Abeni touched my arm. Every time I went quiet, Nyori changed the subject with a joke that kept us all afloat.
But when my phone vibrated again, the laughter dimmed in my chest.
My husband had been calling all evening, and I still had not answered. The truth sat heavy on my mind. I loved him more than life itself, but I needed distance. I needed quiet, and Ineeded a moment to breathe without feeling like he was telling me how.
The phone rang again…
I pressed my lips together and stared at the screen until it went dark.
Nyori noticed before Abeni did this time. “Is everything alright?” she asked gently, her tone still warm but carrying the weight of real concern.
I sighed and set the phone face down. “Kwame keeps calling, and I don’t want to talk to him right now. I don’t even want to see his face.”
Nyori blinked slowly, lifted her brows, then pointed toward the glass wall behind me. “Well, my love… you may not want to see his face, but he certainly wants to see yours.”
Confused, I turned.
Kwame stood outside the patio, watching me with the kind of intensity that always came right before he made a decision for both of us. His suit jacket was open, his tie loosened, and his eyes fixed on me like I had been gone for far longer than a few hours.
Before I could gather my thoughts or sit up properly, he opened the patio door and walked straight in. He didn’t greet Abeni or Nyori. He didn’t say a word to either of them because his attention was locked on me and only me.
He reached for my Hermès Birkin, clutching it, then held out his other hand.
“Treasure,” he said simply.
Abeni exchanged a look with Nyori, a quiet, knowing smile forming between them because they had been witnessing Mensah men take charge like this for decades.
Nyori snickered lightly into her glass.
Kwame didn’t say another word. He didn’t need to. He slipped his fingers around my wrist and guided me to my feet, and although I could have resisted, my heart knew better. Myhusband had come to collect me, and everyone in the room knew I was leaving with him.
Abeni waved a small goodbye, her smile warm and amused. Nyori lifted her glass like she was making a silent toast to marriage, motherhood, and all the beautiful chaos that came with both.
Kwame led me out of the patio and into the night, his hand firm but gentle, as if he already knew I had run as far as I could and it was time for him to pull me close again.
And even though I wasn’t ready to talk, I didn’t pull away, because with everything happening around us, the truth was simple…
I still belonged to him, and he still came for me.
The Judger Will Be Judged…
As I stared out the window of my Maybach, I let the quiet settle around me while the city moved past in soft streaks of light. The ride was smooth, the engine low and calm, and the scent of my driver’s cologne mixed faintly with the wine in my glass. I held it between my fingers and took a slow sip, letting the warmth slide through me as I gathered my thoughts.
My driver sat in the front, focused on the road. Beside him was one of my men, silent, broad-shouldered, and attentive. Two more sat in the back with me. They didn’t speak unless spoken to, and they didn’t move unless I gave the slightest indication.
Judge Marston had denied my nephew bond. After everything I had done to shape that man’s career, and after everything I ensured he received when he had nothing butambition and a résumé that could barely hold itself up, he had the audacity to stand on a bench and speak as if his robe made him untouchable.
People loved forgetting where their blessings came from. I did not enjoy reminding them, but I never avoided it.
The car made a smooth turn toward the private road leading to the hotel. It was a quiet, tucked-away place that wealthy people used when they wanted to pretend their sins were well-hidden. But walls were only as secretive as the people who built them, and I had never been impressed by walls.
I lifted my glass again, letting another sip move across my tongue.
The car rolled to a slow stop at the front of the hotel, warm lights spilling out across the pavement.
My driver stepped out and opened my door. I stepped out carefully, smoothing my hand across my thigh to adjust my dress. My heels clicked softly against the stone. The men followed close behind, but far enough to let me walk ahead as I should. The lobby staff straightened the moment they saw me, their politeness rising in their posture, in the pitch of their voices and in the respectful silence that filled the room as I passed.
When we reached the top floor, the hallway was quiet enough for me to hear the soft click of my heels against the floor. My men followed behind me in a loose formation until I lifted my hand, giving a small gesture toward the one on my right. He stepped forward without hesitation while the other three stopped where they were, waiting exactly where I wanted them.
