The next morning, Zeke awoke with a stiff neck and a mind already racing. He had slept later than intended. Cursing under his breath, he moved quickly, preparing to finally close the deal with the land mogul—a meeting that should have happened last night.
He paused on his way out, his hand on the doorknob, and looked back at Jenny. She was still lying peacefully in the bed, her sleep deep and healing. The sight anchored him for a fleeting second, a quiet contrast to the storm in his mind.
He headed downstairs, where the head nurse, Linosis, was waiting. She bowed respectfully as he approached.
"Make sure she has everything she needs," Zeke instructed, his voice low but clear. "And no one is to enter that ward. No one. Apart from me."
"Yes, sir."
"Apart from me," he repeated, "and only someone I personally send. Understood?"
"Understood, sir."
With a final, brief nod, he turned and left the hospital. His driver was already waiting at the curb, the engine of the sleek car purring softly. Zeke slid into the back seat, his expression already shifting from the guarded concern of the ward to the sharp, unreadable mask of the negotiator.
"The Black Heritage Hotel," he said. "Now."
T. Lae is a famous business mogul from Country B—a true land titan, with vast holdings spread across the globe. The property currently on the market is his crown jewel: a 10-acre plot of land located in the very heart of the capital, making it perhaps the most sought-after piece of real estate in the country.
For months, rival business owners had tried and failed to secure an audience with him. It was only through his secretary's discreet tip that Zeke learned T. Lae would be in the country for his daughter's wedding.
Thinking of all the effort he and his team had invested to secure this deal, Zeke swore that nothing would go wrong.
When Zeke arrived, he went directly to the salon—a vast, opulent room where clients met to talk over luxury and leverage. His secretary had texted him ten minutes earlier with details of T.Lae location: private, but not inaccessible.
Inside the salon, he found T.Lae holding court at a central table, eating a late-night snack and conversing loudly with a few intimates. Their laughter echoed across the polished floor. Zeke made his way over, pulled out a chair without waiting for an invitation, and sat down.
"Ah, the young Black," T.Lae said, a slow, unimpressed smile spreading beneath his thick mustache. He leaned back in his chair, cigar smoke curling from his fingers. "So, what do I owe this pleasure?"
The smell of expensive tobacco and rich food hung in the air, but all Zeke could think of was the sterile scent of a hospital room—and the woman lying silently in it. He met T.Lae gaze, his own eyes cool and unblinking.
"Let's talk about the ten acres," Zeke said, his voice low enough that only the table could hear. "And let's not waste each other's time."
T.Lae was a chubby, short white man with a smile that showed too much of his yellowed, uneven teeth. His original business—and still his favorite—was that of a loan shark. It was how he'd acquired most of his land: identify someone with valuable property but in need of quick cash, offer a loan with impossible interest, and when they inevitably default, seize the asset. He had a nose for sniffing out good land long before markets caught on.
Zeke was sure Lae had approached the previous owner of the 10-acre plot the same way. He probably knew the owner was struggling long before pouring a single dollar into the deal. But Zeke didn't care. The morality of Lae's acquisitions wasn't his business. His business was the land itself.
"I didn't come to discuss how you got it," Zeke said, his voice cutting through Lae's lingering smirk. "I came to discuss how I'm going to take it off your hands. Cleanly. Quietly. And for a price that reflects its… complicated history."
Lae's smile tightened, his eyes narrowing into shrewd, calculating slits. The laughter from his companions had died down. The salon felt suddenly very still.
"Complicated?" Lae repeated, tapping his cigar ash into a crystal tray. "The deed is clear. The land is mine."
"The deed is clear," Zeke agreed smoothly, leaning forward slightly. "But the path to it is paved with stories. And stories, Mr.Lae, have a way of becoming expensive." He let the implication hang in the smoky air between them. "I'm offering you a chance to turn a problematic asset into clean, untraceable capital. My offer is final. And it's only on the table tonight."
Zeke's phone buzzed in his pocket again—another update from the hospital. Jenny was awake. Talking. His focus needed to be here, but his mind was already splitting, pulled back to that sterile room and the secrets she might be revealing.
The land was the future. But Jenny… Jenny was the key to surviving long enough to see it.
T.Lae then let out a slow, rattling laugh, relaxing back into his chair. "Hmm, Zeke. I'll admit, you're young, but you talk like you own the room. Don't you think you're being a bit… rude?" he said, the word hanging in the cigar-scented air.
He folded his hands over his round stomach and crossed his legs, attempting to regain an air of ease. Still, Zeke could see it—the faint flush creeping up T.Lae neck, the slight tightening around his eyes. T.Lae felt embarrassed, and worse, unsettled.
He scoffed, trying to sound dismissive. "That land you want to acquire… do you even know its history? It wasn't just some random plot. It was community land. Sacred to some. Stolen from others. The paperwork might be clean, but the stories aren't. You think you can just build over that?"
Zeke didn't flinch. "I'm not building a memorial, T.Lae . I'm building an empire. And empires are never built on clean land." He leaned in, his voice dropping to a near whisper, cold and deliberate. "But if you'd rather I discuss those stories with the press, or perhaps with the heirs of the original owners who still have claim documents… then we can end this conversation here."
T.Lae smug facade cracked completely. The color drained from his face. Zeke had done his homework—far more than Sili had anticipated. This wasn't a negotiation anymore. It was a takeover.