Chapter 38
TiTi’s Baby…
Sitting in the backseat of my Maybach, I sipped a small pour of Henri IV Dudognon Heritage Cognac, letting the warmth settle across my tongue as the city unfolded outside the tinted window.
The liquor was older than most governments, aged longer than most marriages, and valued high enough to offend anyone who didn’t understand indulgence.
I held the glass delicately as we moved through the streets of Trill-Land, watching the sunlight bounce along the water in soft ribbons.
The island was waking up slow, stretching into its morning with palm trees bowing in the breeze and the distant hills glowing a gentle gold.
My driver kept his eyes forward while my man in the passenger seat scanned every passing vehicle like he expected trouble to introduce itself, and I appreciated that kind of vigilance.
I shifted my gaze from the ocean to the rising structure ahead.
It wasn’t the tallest building in the district, but it was certainly the one that housed the most inflated egos.
As the Maybach slowed to a smooth stop near the entrance, I finished my sip and set the crystal glass on the tray beside me.
The door opened at once, and I stepped out onto the polished stone walk.
The emerald silk of my dress fell perfectly against my frame with each step I took.
The color hugged my skin beautifully, a deep, regal green that glowed beneath the sunlight.
My hair was parted cleanly down the middle and fell over my shoulders like dark silk, unmoving even in the morning breeze.
I adjusted my ring, a black diamond, and began walking toward the steps with my men surrounding me.
Every guard outside turned their head. Some recognized me immediately, some only sensed that I was a woman they should not bother. Either way, their bodies shifted out of my path long before I reached them. I did not acknowledge them. Respect was owed, not asked for.
Inside the lobby, the air carried the faint scent of cedar polish. My heels met the marble with smooth, unhurried taps as I crossed the room and followed the hallway toward the place I needed to be. My men opened the door for me, and I stepped inside the office without announcing myself.
Four men in tailored suits were seated around a wide table.
Papers were spread across the wood, and a muted screen displayed courtroom footage behind them.
Their voices stopped the moment I entered.
They turned toward me with the same expression men always had when they realized I was not someone they could ignore.
The one I came for leaned back slowly in his chair. His face was lined but firm, and his eyes carried the same coldness that echoed through his public statements. He studied me for a moment before speaking.
“Can I help you with something?” he asked.
I smiled at him in a way that never failed to unsettle men who believed themselves to be powerful. “Good morning, Mr. Lennox.”
A faint crease formed between his brows as recognition flickered across his face. “Abeni Mensah.”
The other men looked from him to me, unsure whether they needed to intervene. They chose correctly by doing nothing.
“What brings you here?” he asked, keeping his tone firm, even though I noticed the careful shift in his posture. He was trying to position himself as an equal, which amused me.
“I came for something simple,” I said. “I want Kay’Lo Mensah returned to his family.”
His jaw tightened, but his voice stayed even. “His father has already tried this route. I told him I will not be moved. His son committed a double murder. There will be no special treatment.”
I took a few steps into the room, letting the emerald silk of my dress glide behind me as I approached the edge of the table. My men stayed at the door, calm and silent. I rested my hand lightly on the back of an empty chair.
“Mr. Lennox,” I said with a gentle smile, “I am not here to repeat my brother-in-law’s methods. Kwame handles things in a way that suits him. I handle things in a way that suits results.”
He leaned forward slightly. “Are you threatening me?”
I let out a soft laugh. “If I intended to threaten you, you would not have to ask for clarification. I am simply explaining that our approaches differ. Kwame believes in pushing systems. I believe in examining the foundations they sit on. Foundations tend to crack when mishandled, and I would hate to see that happen here.”
The man beside him cleared his throat nervously, glancing at a stack of files like he hoped to disappear behind them. Roderick shot him a sharp look before returning his attention to me.
“I’m not negotiating,” he said, even though I could hear the hesitation he tried to hide. “Your nephew shot my sons. I will not let politics save him.”
“I’m not asking for politics, Mr. Lennox. I’m asking for competence.”
His eyes narrowed. The room was silent enough to feel weighted.
I continued, still soft and elegant. “You and I both know the story has not been told in its full form yet. The narrative circulating your office is incomplete, and I am certain a man of your position would prefer not to build his legacy on incomplete information. Incomplete information tends to collapse careers.”
One of the other men shifted in his seat. Roderick’s gaze cut toward him again, which told me he was already irritated and off balance.
“I don’t respond to veiled intimidation,” he said.
I tilted my head slightly, giving him one of my warmer smiles. “That wasn’t intimidation, Mr. Lennox. That was courtesy. If I intended anything harsher, you wouldn’t have the privilege of this conversation.”
He exhaled slowly. “Mrs. Mensah, no one—not your brother-in-law, not your wealth, and not your reputation, will convince me to release that boy.”
“I understand,” I said calmly. “And fortunately, I’ve never relied on convincing men who are determined to misunderstand me.”
His hand tightened around the pen he was holding. I could see the conflict brewing in his eyes, the desire to assert dominance wrestling with the instinct to tread carefully.
“So what now?” he asked. “Are you here to attempt the same pressure he did? Because it will not work.”
I stepped a little closer, close enough for him to see the sharpness beneath my smile. “Kwame applied pressure. I apply consequence.”
His expression shifted, even though he tried to hide it behind another mask of authority.
I lifted my chin slightly. “Now, Mr. Lennox… before this conversation becomes something neither of us can walk away from gracefully, let us return to the only matter that concerns me.”
He swallowed, and the other men watched him instead of me, as if waiting to see whether he would survive the next sentence.
I placed my hand on the back of the chair again, the emerald sleeve of my dress cascading like water. My voice remained warm, polite, and unwavering.
“Now, Mr. Lennox,” I said. “About my nephew.”