Chapter 32
As my driver drove to the private airfield, my thoughts began to circle the one decision I had been avoiding for an entire year.
I had handled wars in boardrooms, buried threats, and I made people disappear from rooms with nothing but a look and the right phone call.
Still, this felt different. This wasn’t a hostile takeover or a political chess move.
This was a child, and no matter how many times I tried to dress it up as justice, it had always been a child.
The Maybach moved smooth over the road, quiet enough that I could hear Preslan’s little sounds behind me.
He was one now, and that fact sat heavy because time didn’t care about anger or revenge.
Time kept going, and while I was busy building a wall around this secret, that baby had been growing teeth, learning my voice, and reaching for me like he came from my womb.
I turned my head slightly and looked back at him.
He was strapped into his car seat, clean and comfortable, dressed like he always was when he was with me.
His curls were neat, his skin looked healthy, and his eyes followed me like he was trying to figure out why the energy in the car felt different today.
He reached his little hand out in my direction, his fingers opening and closing like he wanted to grab my attention.
My throat tightened, but I kept my face composed.
I leaned back and reached toward him anyway, because I wasn’t made of stone, no matter what the world believed.
I let my fingertips brush his hand, and he closed his tiny fingers around mine with that surprising strength babies had.
Then I leaned farther, just enough to kiss the top of his hand.
“You don’t know what’s happening,” I whispered, so low that even the driver couldn’t hear it. “You only know you’re loved.”
His mouth lifted like he understood the word loved, even if he didn’t understand anything else.
That small expression almost cracked me open, and I forced myself to sit upright again.
I wouldn’t fall apart today because I wasn’t built for that.
If I was going to do this, I was going to do it with dignity.
The rules had already been set. I had contacted Kashmere myself. I told her there would be no middle men on her behalf. She was going to meet me on the island where my people could control every angle, and she was going to follow every instruction, or she would not leave the island at all.
I had made that clear.
My message was direct and cold, and it was a language people understood when they knew they were dealing with me.
You will arrive alone.
You will not bring weapons.
You will not raise your voice.
You will not attempt to record anything.
You will not speak my family’s name to anyone after today.
If you try to set a trap, you will die.
That last line wasn’t a threat for drama. It was a boundary, and boundaries kept people alive when they were dealing with the Mensahs.
Treasure’s voice had been living in the back of my mind since our walk. She hadn’t tried to shame me, and she hadn’t begged me to do anything. She simply told me the truth, and she told it to me like a sister who wasn’t scared of my power.
You regret taking that baby…
At first, I told myself she didn’t understand what it felt like to watch your son bleed out and still have to keep your face calm while the world watched.
I told myself she didn’t understand what it felt like to want to tear the sky open with your bare hands because your child was dying, but later that night, when the mansion was quiet, Treasure’s words came back again, and I couldn’t outrun them… Because she was right.
My anger had dissolved. Not because Kashmere deserved forgiveness, but because my son survived.
Pressure healed, he moved forward and built a family with Pluto and brought life into the world again.
The rage that once lived in me had nowhere to stay, and what remained was the truth I didn’t want to say out loud.
I had taken a baby…
I hadn’t only punished Kashmere. I had punished a child who didn’t know anything about bullets or betrayal or weddings. I had punished a child because I needed my pain to land somewhere.
That truth was ugly, and I didn’t like ugly truths.
The Maybach rolled through the gates of the private airfield, and everything was already in motion before the tires even settled, with men in black posted where they needed to be, with radios kept low, and eyes scanning every angle like the air itself could be a threat.
My jet sat waiting farther ahead, spotless and ready, and my men held their positions without a word. Four of them would board with me.
My driver pulled up, and one of my men opened my door.
I stepped out and adjusted my coat, then turned and looked into the backseat at Preslan again.
His little bags were already packed, and they weren’t ordinary bags.
Everything he owned was quality because I refused to let him lack while he was under my roof.
His bottles, his toys, his clothes, his blankets, and his shoes were all organized like a child who belonged to a family that cared.
He kicked his feet lightly, watching me.
I leaned in again, this time brushing my knuckles along his cheek. His skin was warm.
“You’re going home,” I told him softly.
He didn’t understand the words, but he understood my tone, and his face shifted like he was getting fussy. He reached again, and I held his hand for a second longer than necessary. Then I straightened and stepped back.
My men lifted his car seat carefully and carried him with me toward the jet.
The steps up were quick, and as soon as I entered, the quiet comfort of my cabin surrounded me.
The cabin wrapped around me in quiet luxury, with leather seats, clean surfaces, and soft lighting that tried to make everything feel peaceful, even though my spirit wasn’t.
I settled into my seat and accepted a glass of wine when one of the attendants offered it.
As the jet moved and lifted, I stared out the window, watching the ground shrink beneath me. Somewhere below, a world kept spinning like it always did, and people kept living like they weren’t one phone call away from their whole life changing.
Preslan made a little sound behind me, and I looked over my shoulder. He was calm for now, looking around like he enjoyed the motion. I watched him for a moment, and my chest tightened again.
I had kept him for a year. I had watched him learn to sit up, and laugh. I had watched him reach for me when he was tired. I had held him in the second kitchen while the sun softened across the windows, and I had whispered words to him that no one else heard.
Now I was about to give him back to the woman I once hunted like prey.
The jet landed a while later, smooth and quiet. The door opened, and heat rolled in from outside. As soon as I stepped down, I saw Kojo.
My husband stood there with men behind him, and these weren’t private security dressed to look intimidating.
These were trained men with rifles and focus in their eyes.
There were men who knew how to end a situation before it began.
I could also see the placement, and the way the perimeter had been set.
I didn’t have to look up to know there were snipers positioned on rooftops and higher ground.
Kojo didn’t do half measures, and he wasn’t letting me come into Kashmere’s presence without making sure she understood what one wrong move would cost.
Kojo stepped forward, his eyes on me first, then on the jet. He didn’t speak right away, but I could feel his protection settle over me like a shield.
“You weren’t coming alone,” he said low, almost like a statement instead of a question.
“I didn’t ask to,” I replied, and I meant it, even if my pride didn’t like needing anyone.
He leaned in and kissed me, slow and firm, and I kissed him back, because Kojo was the only man on this earth who could touch me like this without asking permission from the part of me that ruled everything.
“You alright?” he murmured against my cheek.
“I am,” I said, because it was what I always said.
His hand stayed at my lower back as he guided me forward. We waited near the tarmac where my team had already positioned the vehicles. The air smelled like fuel and wind, and it felt too open, and exposed, but the rifles and the men and the discipline made it controlled.
A few minutes later, a black car with tinted windows arrived.
The car had been scheduled by me. The driver had been selected by me. The route had been tracked by my people. Kashmere wasn’t arriving with freedom. She was arriving under permission.
The rear door opened, and Kashmere stepped out.
She wasn’t the same girl who used to move like the world owed her applause.
There was no wig, heavy makeup or dramatic lashes.
Her hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail, and she wore sweatpants, sneakers, and an oversized shirt that looked like it had been washed too many times.
She looked healthy, but plain. She looked like a woman who had been stripped of her stage and had to learn how to stand without it.
She closed the door gently, and her eyes moved across the scene, taking in the men, the weapons, the distance between her and me, and the fact that Kojo was here.
Then her eyes landed on my face.
She didn’t speak or ask where her baby was. She knew better than to rush me. Kashmere had survived me once, and survival taught you when to keep your mouth shut.
She walked forward slowly, and I watched her the same way I watched everyone, with calm attention that didn’t miss anything. Her face carried something different now. She looked determined, but she also looked afraid, and she had every reason to be.
When she stopped a few feet away, I kept my posture relaxed and my expression controlled.
“Kashmere,” I said, my voice calm.