3. Pressure Mensah
Trill-Land, Jungle Estate
I t had been two weeks, and Renza was on a mission to find me a wife.
I wasn’t sure what he had in that crazy-ass head of his, but every time I checked my phone, there was a new flyer, reel, or TikTok edit floatin’ around with my face on it.
Half the shit looked like a movie trailer.
That nigga had graphics poppin’, audio transitions, even a voiceover that said, “Who will be crowned the next Diamond of Trill-Land?” I didn’t approve none of that shit, and I damn sure didn’t tell him to put that I was givin’ out a two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar prize.
But at this point, I should’ve known better.
Renza wasn’t just playin’ matchmaker—he was treatin’ this shit like the Met Gala crossed with the Trap Olympics.
Every blog had it: Pressure Mensah, the son of Kojo and Abeni Mensah, is looking for a wife.
They were sayin’ I was finally ready to settle down, that I wanted a queen to rule beside me and that I was done with my wild ways.
That part was funny as hell, ‘cause I wasn’t lookin’ for no queen.
I was just tryna get my mama off my back and make it through this whole Diamonds process with these women without choking one of ‘em. But with Renza pushin’ it like a global event, it was too late to back out now.
Trill-Land was hype, and the internet was goin’ insane .
Girls was flyin’ in from everywhere. I’m talkin’ about baddies from Drahma Town, Nzuri Hall, the Southside, even a few from overseas.
Everybody wanted a shot. It wasn’t just about the money—it was the title: Pressure’s wife.
That meant access, power and prestige. That meant you was livin’ in the compound, smokin’ Trillium at the source, and walkin’ around with the type of security that made other women clutch they purses.
Kay’Lo had started beefin’ up the house the minute the ads went live.
My six-bedroom mansion wasn’t built for twenty women, and I damn sure wasn’t sharin’ my personal space with that many personalities unless I had no choice.
So Kay’Lo made the call, brought in a full team, and started converting the east wing and the second gym I had upstairs.
They knocked down some of the storage walls and flipped that whole section into an extended suite space.
Bunk beds got delivered by the truckload, but they wasn’t on no jailhouse shit.
These beds were customized with metal frames, velvet headboards, satin sheets, and built-in LED strips that changed colors depending on the girl’s vibe.
Kay’Lo said it was for ambiance. I told him he sounded stupid, but lowkey it looked hard once it came together.
Each room had four girls assigned, but the way they had it set up, there was enough distance between bunks for the girls to feel like they still had some privacy.
We had partition screens, blackout curtains, mini vanities, and mounted flatscreens on every damn wall.
If you ain’t know no better, you’d think it was a boutique hotel.
Kay’Lo even had scented humidifiers installed and made sure each suite had its own bathroom setup, or at least a shared powder room so there wouldn’t be no early mornin’ fights over flat irons and lashes.
And the kitchen? Don’t get me started. We had to double the staff just to keep up with twenty women who eat, complain, and probably ordered like they got personal chefs back home.
A private chef got flown in from Nzuri Hall, along with a full-time housekeeper and a schedule for meal rotations that read like a prison calendar.
Every girl would be fed, styled, and supervised.
And not ‘cause I was tryna be nice, but because the last thing I needed was drama breakin’ out over who didn’t feel accommodated.
Kay’Lo also upgraded security, puttin’ cameras in every hallway.
He had motion detectors around the perimeter, new thumbprint locks for the main bedrooms, including mine, and a new room built strictly for observation, like some quiet control center.
He said it was just in case shit got outta hand.
I said it sounded like we was buildin’ a soft-ass prison, but I ain’t stop him either.
Blaqson came through most days, not just to smoke and laugh, but to keep shit from spiralin’ too far left.
While Renza was plannin’ photo ops and Kay’Lo was lockin’ down security, Blaq was the one thinkin’ ahead, askin’ the questions nobody else was slowin’ down to ask.
He helped map out schedules, meal rotations, quiet hours, and even drafted a basic code of conduct Renza called ‘cute’ but ended up forwarding to the whole team.
Everything didn’t need to be pretty, it needed to function. That was Blaqson’s lane.
Still, the nigga had jokes. One afternoon while we was sittin’ in the back room watching Kay’Lo cuss out the contractors, he lit up and said, “You know at least three of them women gon’ fall in love after day two.
And one of ‘em gon’ try to poison you if she think she losin’.
” I didn’t even argue, ‘cause that nigga was probably right.
The applications had flooded in so fast that Renza had to hire an assistant to manage them.
I wasn’t readin’ through that mess, but from what they told me, girls was sendin’ in full portfolios—photoshoots, edited bios, sex appeal stats, horoscopes, even cookin’ samples.
One girl mailed in a damn casserole. Another sent a gold-wrapped letter with perfume sprayed all over it. Shit was gettin’ crazy.
And while everybody was askin’ if we was filming it, I kept sayin no. This wasn’t for the cameras. I didn’t want no fake ass moments, or producers pushin’ drama just to make it entertaining.
People knew who I was. They knew I wasn’t just some rich nigga with a mansion and exotic weed.
I was Trill-Land royalty—the son of a man who could fund a war, and the heir to a mother who moved through global politics like a ghost. My name held weight, and my last name came with a price.
That’s why they was signing up, and every woman applyin’ believed she had what it took to sit next to it.
They was lookin’ to be chose, but what none of them realized…
was that I didn’t even know if I wanted to choose anybody at all.
Later that night, I chilled on my patio, leanin’ back in the same low-slung chair I always ended up in when I needed to think.
I was shirtless, feet propped on the edge of the table, just lettin’ the breeze roll across my skin while the jungle whispered around me.
The sky was pitch black except for the stars that peeked through the trees, and the only real light was the warm glow comin’ from inside the house behind me.
I had my phone sittin’ screen-down next to my lighter and a fat pre-roll of that God Smoke I’d been savin’ for when I needed to slow my mind down. But before I could even spark up, it buzzed twice and lit up again.
I stared at it for a second, then picked it up and answered with a low, “Hey Ma.”
Her voice was calm like always. “Hey son. How are you?”
“I’m good. Just sittin’ outside.”
“Have you been getting your rest? You sound tired.”
I stretched my neck and rubbed the back of it. “Somethin’ like that.”
There was a little pause. I could hear her settin’ somethin’ down in the background, probably one of her tea cups. Then she said, “I wanted to check in. See how your search is going.”
I almost laughed but caught myself. “Search?”
“For a wife.”
I shook my head and smiled a little, even though it wasn’t really funny. “It’s… goin’.”
“That don’t sound too convincing.”
I didn’t respond right away. I wasn’t tryin’ to lie to her, but I also wasn’t tryna unpack my whole head tonight either. Ma didn’t press me though. She always knew how to slide into a conversation without forcing it.
“You been thinkin’ about her?” she asked.
She ain’t even say Ka’mari’s name, but she didn’t have to ‘cause I already knew.
I leaned back deeper into the chair and exhaled through my nose. “Yeah.”
She hummed, soft and sad, like she already knew. “I figured. You loved her, and I get that.”
“I still do,” I admitted.
“I know, baby, but she’s gettin’ married. That chapter’s over.”
I stared out at the dark trees in front of me, but I wasn’t seein’ ‘em. All I could see was Ka’mari. Her laugh, her stubbornness and the way she used to hold and kiss all over a nigga chest. I ain’t wanna let go of none of that.
“It ain’t over for me,” I said, more to myself than her.
“You’re holdin’ onto a ghost, Pressure,” she said gently. “You’re waiting on a woman who’s already made her choice.”
“That don’t mean it was the right one.”
“It don’t matter if it was or not, son. She still made it.”
I didn’t say nothin’. I just sat there with the phone pressed to my ear and my jaw clenched, tryin’ to keep my voice calm.
“I’m not trying to be cruel,” she added after a few seconds. “But I want you to stop putting your heart where it don’t got no space to grow. You’ve done enough. You fought for her. You waited. You hurt. Now it’s time for something else.”
I took a breath and looked down at my hands.
“I’m not saying fall in love with whoever walks through your door next week,” she continued. “I’m just asking you to be open. To at least try.”
I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. “I hear you.”
“I know you do.”
There was another pause, then she said, “This arrangement… it’s not just about your father’s legacy, you know that, right?”
I didn’t say nothin’. I just waited for her to go on.
“It’s about stability. Your father’s built empires and now he wants the face of that power to be more than just a man with a name. He wants unity, and a future the people can rally behind. That starts with you.”
I sighed and rubbed my forehead. “I ain’t the one who asked for this shit.”
“No, but you’re the one who was born into it.”
She wasn’t wrong. My father made it clear: if I wanted to inherit the full infrastructure of what he’d built—not just the companies or the contracts, but the alliances, the black books, the real power, then I had to be settled, married and seen as a man who had more than money and muscles.
He wanted me to have a partner, a household and a reputation that couldn’t be questioned.
He was trying to build generational wealth through his legacy.
It sounded damn near medieval, but in Trill-Land, legacy mattered, and the world didn’t respect a man who looked like he was still playin’.
“You really think I’m gon’ find somebody like that?” I asked finally. “Somebody that ain’t fake, or chasin’ clout, or just tryin’ to say they Pressure’s girl?”
“I think when you stop looking for Ka’mari in every face you meet, you’ll finally see what’s in front of you.”
Her words hit harder than I expected.
“I love you, Ma.”
“I love you more.”
“I’m gon’ head to bed. You rest good.”
“You too, baby. Don’t stay out there too long.”
I ended the call and sat the phone down. Then I reached for the pre-roll, lit it, and leaned forward on my elbows, lettin’ the smoke roll out slow as I stared at the trees.
The God Smoke crept in soft and slow, just like always. First it settled behind my eyes, then moved through my chest like a warm wave. My mind started to float, but it wasn’t light. It was heavy with thoughts I couldn’t shake.
Ka’mari…
That name lived in every corner of this place. Every damn hallway, and room.
People kept tellin’ me to move on like it was simple, as if I hadn’t pictured our future in this estate already. Like I ain’t already seen her face in my kids and ain’t already given her the part of me I didn’t even know how to get back.
I didn’t wanna move on. That was the part nobody got.
And yeah, I could cancel this whole damn Diamonds setup if I wanted to. I could tell Renza to kill the flyers, tell the team to pack the women up before they even touched down, but it was too deep now. There was too many eyes on it, and too much ridin’ on how I handled this.
The will was locked, and the conditions was clear.
I didn’t need the money, ‘cause my accounts was fat and diversified, but what I did need… was access. My father wasn’t just leavin’ me paper.
He was leavin’ me the tools to shape entire governments, to flip economies, to control more than just land, and if I walked away now, I’d be givin’ all that up to other family members and snakes who didn’t have half the heart or vision I did.
So yeah, I had to get my mind right, even if my heart wasn’t in this shit.
I took another slow pull of the Trillium, let it settle deep, and exhaled while watchin’ the trees sway under the moonlight. Somewhere out there, the world was still spinnin’, but up here, on this balcony in the middle of my jungle, I just wanted stillness.
I sat there quiet with the smoke curlin’ around me, the night stretchin’ on, and my thoughts stuck somewhere between who I lost and who I was about to become.