Chapter 32 #2
“Mrs. Mensah,” she replied, and her voice sounded smaller than I remembered.
I studied her for a moment longer, then I turned slightly and nodded toward my men.
“Bring him,” I said.
One of my men went back toward the jet, and Kojo’s hand stayed close to mine as we waited. The moment stretched, and I could feel the weight of it all. Kashmere stood still, her hands clenched at her sides like she was afraid to hope too hard and get disappointed.
Then my man returned. Preslan was in his arms, resting against his shoulder, and the sight of him walking toward us made Kashmere’s whole body change.
Her eyes widened instantly, and her mouth opened like she wanted to speak but couldn’t.
Then her hand flew up to cover her mouth, and her knees looked like they almost gave out.
The sound she made didn’t even sound like words. It sounded like pain and relief colliding at once.
When Preslan saw me, he reached out, and my heart squeezed because he didn’t know this was goodbye. He only knew he saw me and wanted me.
I kept my face calm anyway.
My man stepped closer, and Kashmere’s tears started falling before she even touched him.
She reached for Preslan with shaking hands like she was scared he might disappear, and when my man placed him in her arms, she held him so tight it looked like she was trying to make up for a year in one second.
“My baby,” she sobbed, kissing his face over and over, her tears spilling on his cheeks. “Oh my God. Oh my God.”
Preslan fussed for a second, confused, and I felt that confusion in my own chest like a sting, but I didn’t move, or step in. I didn’t soften my posture. I stood there and watched the reunion I had stolen from her.
Kashmere hugged him close and rocked him like her body remembered what her arms were meant to do. Her face was red, and her eyes looked swollen already, but she didn’t care. She kissed him again, then again, and she kept whispering to him like she was afraid he wouldn’t recognize her.
I cleared my throat because if I didn’t, I could feel tears pushing behind my eyes, and tears weren’t something I offered freely.
My men were already unloading Preslan’s bags from the jet and placing them into the car that brought Kashmere. The movement was fast and organized, like it had been rehearsed, because it had.
Kashmere finally lifted her face to me, and her eyes were red and wet, and her voice came out broken.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
I gave a slow nod. I didn’t smile or respond with warmth because warmth would confuse the moment, and I didn’t want confusion between us.
“You’ll listen carefully,” I told her, my tone still calm. “You won’t speak on my family’s name. Not in interviews, not online, not to your friends, not to anyone you think you trust. If you do, I’ll come back for you, and you already know what that means.”
Kashmere nodded quickly, clutching Preslan tighter.
“And you won’t contact my son again,” I added. “You won’t text him. You won’t call him. You won’t send messages through anyone else. You will live your life with your child, and you’ll keep my family out of your mouth.”
“Yes,” she said, almost shaking as she spoke. “Yes, okay.”
I watched her for a moment, then I stepped back slightly. That was my permission for it to end.
Kashmere turned and walked toward the car with Preslan in her arms, still crying, still kissing him, still whispering to him like she was afraid the world might snatch him away again. The driver opened the door, and she climbed in carefully, holding him close.
The door closed, and the car pulled off.
And I stood there watching the dust settle behind it, my face still composed, my hands still at my sides, and my chest feeling too tight for the calm I was pretending to have.
Kojo turned to me then, and his eyes were soft in a way he rarely showed in public.
“I’m proud of you,” he said.
That sentence broke the last thread holding my tears back. I let them fall, heavy and hot, and I leaned into my husband’s chest like I didn’t have the strength to hold myself up anymore.
Kojo wrapped his arms around me and held me tight, rubbing my back with slow pressure like he was soothing something wounded inside me.
“You did the right thing,” he murmured. “You did, and I know it wasn’t easy.”
I didn’t speak at first because my throat felt full. I just cried against him, and I hated the way it felt, but I needed it.
Kojo kissed the top of my head. “You have a beautiful soul,” he said. “You’ve always had one, even when you don’t let anyone see it. Now it can rest.”
I pulled back eventually, and I knew my makeup was smeared, but I didn’t care. Kojo wiped at my cheek gently, then kissed me again.
“I’m staying on the island a day longer,” he told me. “I want to make sure she doesn’t try anything foolish.”
I nodded, because he was right to do it.
Then I turned and walked back toward the jet, my posture finding its shape again, and my face settling back into composure the way it always did, even after a moment like that.
Once I was seated again, the cabin felt too quiet.
The space where Preslan had been was empty, and the absence had its own sound.
I stared out the window while the jet lifted back into the air, and my mind replayed Kashmere’s face when she saw her baby, the way her body nearly collapsed and the way her tears hit his cheeks like rain.
My throat tightened again, but I forced myself to breathe through it.
I was done with this chapter, I told myself. I had closed it, but the body didn’t always listen to the mind.
A sharp pain hit my chest, sudden enough that I froze. It wasn’t a gentle ache. It was a hard, tight grip that made me gasp in a way that startled me. I pressed my hand against my chest instinctively and tried to ignore it, because acknowledging pain had never been my habit.
I sat up straighter, telling myself it was nothing. I tried convincing myself that it was the day, the emotions and the adrenaline wearing off. I told myself it would pass.
Then another wave hit, stronger, and my muscles tightened like they were pulling against themselves. My hand trembled against my chest, and I tried to inhale, but my breath came shallow.
One of my men turned from across the cabin, his eyes narrowing. “Mrs. Mensah?”
“I’m fine,” I said automatically, but the words didn’t even sound convincing to me.
The pain surged again, and this time my body betrayed me fully. My arm jerked, and a spasm rolled through my chest and shoulder like something was trying to twist me from the inside. I gripped the armrest, but my hand slipped because my fingers weren’t obeying me.
My man was on his feet instantly, moving toward me.
“Abeni,” he said, his voice tighter now. “Mrs. Mensah, look at me.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but my vision started to blur. The cabin lights stretched for a second, then snapped back, and my heart thudded hard enough that I could hear it in my ears.
The spasm hit again, and this time my body slid out of the seat like I couldn’t hold myself upright. I tried to catch the armrest, but my strength wasn’t there. I fell to the floor, and the shock of it made my stomach turn.
Two of them rushed to me at once, calling my name, asking questions, and I could hear the urgency in their voices even though the world was starting to sound far away.
I wanted to tell them to stop panicking and to pull themselves together. I wanted to tell them I didn’t need help, but my body didn’t care about my pride.
The last thing I saw was the ceiling of the jet and the blurred shape of one of my men leaning over me, and then everything dimmed fast, like someone had shut off the light inside my head.
And just like that, it all went black…
When I finally came to, I realized I wasn’t in my home, and I didn’t need anyone to confirm it for me because the room itself told the truth.
The walls were too plain, the light was too white, and the air had that clean chemical smell that only existed in places where people came to die. Something was beeping near the side of the bed, and it was consistent enough to remind me that my body was being watched by a machine.
I blinked slowly and kept my face calm even though I didn’t like any of this.
I felt the thin pull of tape on my skin and the weight of a blood pressure cuff around my arm, and when I shifted my hand slightly, I felt the sting of an IV in my other arm.
I looked down at it for a moment, then lifted my eyes again, refusing to let my expression change.
I turned my head and saw my men. Two were inside the room, positioned like they had been in here the entire time, and another was near the door with his body angled toward the hallway, watching everything that moved outside.
Their presence was the only thing in the room that felt familiar, and I appreciated it more than I intended to.
The one closest to me leaned forward slightly when he saw my eyes open.
“Mrs. Mensah,” he said lowly. “You’re awake.”
My throat was dry. I cleared it once and spoke with the same tone I used in boardrooms and courtrooms and private meetings, because tone mattered, and I wasn’t going to sound weak in a place like this.
“Where am I?” I asked.
He didn’t hesitate. “You’re at a hospital. We had to land the jet immediately, and they met us on the tarmac.”
I held his gaze. “Why wasn’t I taken home?”
His eyes lowered for a fraction of a second, then lifted again. “You went down on the flight. You came around for a minute, but you weren’t fully aware, and then it happened again. The med team said it wasn’t safe to let you go home.”
The words settled in a way I didn’t like. I tried to reach for the last clear memory, and I found it in pieces that still felt sharp.
I remembered the empty seat where Preslan had been, and Kashmere’s face when she saw her child. I remembered my own throat tightening while I forced myself to stand tall and watch her hold him.