Sekou’s office was in one of the skyscrapers—minimalist, cold, all glass and steel. Zalika, in her new clothes, simple but neat, contrasted with the stark setting.
“I want to see Mr. Sekou. I don’t have an appointment,” she told the receptionist.
“Mr. Sekou is busy, ma’am. His schedule is full for the next two months.”
“Tell him,” Zalika said calmly, “Zalika Okafor, owner of Okafor Legacy Holdings LLC, assets of 2,000 acres. This is urgent.”
The receptionist hesitated, but the words “2,000 acres” made her pick up the phone. Five minutes later, Zalika was ushered into a corner office with a panoramic view of all of Atlanta.
Sekou was a Black man in his mid-thirties. He didn’t smile. He wore a crisp dress shirt with no tie, yet he looked more formal than Kwesi ever did in his suits. His eyes were sharp, analyzing Zalika like a math problem.
“I only have ten minutes, Mrs. Okafor,” Sekou said. His voice was deep and flat. “Okafor Legacy Holdings. Dormant company, agricultural assets. What is the problem?”
Zalika sat down without being invited. “The problem, Mr. Sekou,” Zalika said, “is that this company just woke up. The assets are large, but I don’t know anything about pecans, peaches, or how to run it. And I have another problem that must be solved.”
“What problem?”
“My ex-husband. A developer in Atlanta. His name is Kwesi. He demands a share. He doesn’t know about this.”
Sekou raised an eyebrow. “This is interesting. What do you want from me?”
“I want you to restructure this company from the ground up. Audit everything. Make it an active, modern, profitable company. And I want you to be my personal advisor,” Zalika said. “I want to know how to use this power.”
Sekou stared at her for a long time. Then he sighed, closing his laptop. “You know, Mrs. Okafor, I usually just clean up the messes of rich idiots who inherited daddy’s money and spent it on sports cars. But you… you are different.”
“How so?”
“You are building, not spending. I respect that.” He paused. “But I am expensive, ma’am.”
“I know,” Zalika replied.
“I don’t deal with personal dramas.”
“I’m not asking you to deal with drama. I’m asking you to teach me how to win a business war. The drama is the bonus.”
Sekou smiled slightly—his first smile. “When do we start?”
“Yesterday,” Zalika replied.
Two weeks passed. Atlanta didn’t know what was happening in the high-rise offices of Midtown. Zalika and Sekou’s small team worked twenty hours a day. They dissected Okafor Legacy Holdings LLC.
It turned out the assets were greater than estimated. Zalika’s father hadn’t just bought land; he had also bought small shares in various agri-food companies whose value had now skyrocketed. Zalika learned fast. She devoured financial reports, studied property laws, and learned the fundamentals of agri-business management.
Sekou watched her. This client was different. She didn’t panic. She wasn’t greedy. She was focused. She was like a dry sponge absorbing all the information.
During those two weeks, Zalika also transformed herself. She cut her long, dull hair into a short, firm, elegant bob. She threw out all her old clothes with the help of a personal shopper hired by Sekou. Her closet now contained tailored suits, silk blouses, and simple but classy dresses in strong colors: black, navy blue, and burgundy. Reading glasses replaced her contacts. Stilettos replaced sandals.
But the biggest change was in her eyes. There was no fear anymore, only calculation.
“Are you ready to get back in the ring, ma’am?” Sekou asked one afternoon.
“I’m ready,” Zalika said.
They didn’t go to the hotel. Under Zalika’s orders, Sekou’s team had worked discreetly in Atlanta. They bought an old mansion in the Cascade Heights area. Not a flashy, new “McMansion” like Kwesi preferred, but a historic, solid, elegant building that emanated an aura of old Black power and generational wealth. The house was paid for in cash.
When Zalika walked into her new mansion, she was no longer the Zalika who was kicked out of the apartment lobby. She was Ms. Zalika Okafor, CEO of Okafor Legacy Holdings, LLC.
Meanwhile, in the penthouse at The Sovereign, Kwesi and Inaya’s life was at its peak.
“This project, babe,” Kwesi exclaimed one night while pouring champagne for Inaya. “This is going to change the game.”
Kwesi, after managing to kick Zalika out, felt invincible. His construction business was frantically looking for new projects.
“I have inside info,” his eyes shone with greed. “There’s prime land—thousands of acres down in South Georgia—coming onto the market. They say it’s going to be opened up for a luxury development. I have to get the construction contract.”
Inaya, who was busy taking selfies with her champagne glass, was only half listening. “Oh, yeah, great. That means our wedding can be in Turks and Caicos, right? And I want that new Birkin bag, the crocodile skin one.”
“Sure, whatever for you,” Kwesi said. But deep down, he was a little anxious. To get such a big project, he needed a huge capital injection. He needed investors. His company honestly had quite a few debts here and there to finance their lavish lifestyle.
“I’ll organize meetings with all possible investors,” Kwesi murmured.
A few days later, Kwesi heard rumors in Atlanta business circles.
“Did you hear?” an acquaintance asked him. “There’s a new player in town investing like crazy. Bought a mansion in Cascade cash, brought in a consultant from Midtown—that guy Sekou, ‘The Cleaner.'”
“What’s the name?” Kwesi asked. “Interesting.”
“No one knows exactly. Very secretive. But the company name is old. Okafor Legacy Holdings, LLC. Ring a bell?”
Kwesi shook his head. “Old-fashioned name. Probably some old money folks just realizing their assets. This is the opportunity.”
Kwesi immediately ordered his secretary to find a way to contact Okafor Legacy Holdings. He had to present his proposal for the development in South Georgia. He didn’t know that the lands he coveted were the very ones listed in Zalika’s deed.
The invitation arrived. Okafor Legacy Holdings, LLC was interested in hearing the proposal from Kwesi Constructions, Inc. The meeting would be held at the CEO’s residence in the Cascade Mansion.
Kwesi felt on top of the world. “Look, Inaya, they invited me! Surely they’ve heard of my reputation.”
That morning, Kwesi put on his most expensive suit. He rehearsed his presentation in front of the mirror. He was determined to dazzle this mysterious investor.
He arrived at the mansion. The high wrought-iron gate opened slowly. He walked into a majestic but cool foyer. The walls were marble, the furniture antique and heavy. An assistant with a formal look received him.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Kwesi. Please wait in the meeting room. Our CEO will join you shortly.”
Kwesi was led to a grand library transformed into a meeting room. On one side was a very long mahogany table. On the other, tall windows overlooked a manicured garden.
At the end of the table sat a man looking at his laptop. Sekou. Kwesi thought he was the boss.
“Good afternoon, sir.”
Sekou looked up. His eyes were cold. “I am Sekou, consultant. Sit down, Mr. Kwesi. Our CEO is on the way.”
Kwesi sat down. He started to feel a little nervous. The atmosphere in this room was too heavy, too silent. Five minutes passed like an hour.
Suddenly, the double doors behind Kwesi opened. Kwesi didn’t turn around immediately. He heard the sound of footsteps—high heels on stone.
Click, clack, click, clack. A firm and rhythmic sound on the marble floor.
“Sorry for the wait.” A voice spoke. A familiar voice, but impossible.
Kwesi froze. He knew that voice, but this version was cold, full of authority. He turned his chair slowly.
The footsteps stopped at the other end of the table. There stood Zalika, her hair perfectly styled in a sharp bob. She was wearing a navy blue power dress that wrapped her body perfectly. Reading glasses rested on her nose. Her face was made up subtly but professionally.
She looked at Kwesi. There was no hatred in her eyes. No love. Nothing. Just the look of a superior assessing a subordinate.
Kwesi’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.
Zalika sat calmly in the head chair. Sekou stood beside her, handing her a tablet. Zalika looked at Kwesi and then smiled. The smile didn’t reach her eyes.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Kwesi,” she said. Her clear voice filled the room. “I am Zalika Okafor, CEO of Okafor Legacy Holdings, LLC.”
She leaned in a little. “Please begin your presentation. I heard you are very interested in the lands in South Georgia.”
Zalika paused, letting her words sink in. Casually, she continued in a relaxed tone. “Coincidentally, all the land you covet for your ambitious project belongs to me.”
Silence. The silence in the meeting room was so thick that Kwesi could hear his own heart beating in his ears. A joke. This has to be a joke. But Zalika’s eyes, the eyes that used to look at him with adoration, were now as cold as the marble beneath his feet.
“Z-Zalika?” Kwesi managed to emit a sound. His voice cracked. “This… this is impossible. 2,000 acres? Okafor Legacy? Where did you get the money?”
Zalika leaned back in her chair, not answering that question. She turned to Sekou. “Mr. Sekou, what do you think of the initial proposal from Kwesi Constructions, Inc.?”
Sekou, who had been silent like a shadow, spoke. His voice was flat and lethal. “Conceptually ambitious, but financially very weak. Mr. Kwesi, your proposal does not include adequate risk analysis, and your profit projections are too optimistic.”
Kwesi felt as if he had been doused with ice water. He came to dazzle a foolish investor. Instead, he was being audited.
“Wait,” Kwesi said, trying to control himself. His arrogance started to return, looking for logical explanations. I know Zalika must just be a puppet, he thought. This man Sekou is the one in control. Zalika just got lucky.
“Zal,” he said, trying a softer tone, the tone he used to use to cajole her. “I don’t know what happened to you, but this is big business. Maybe… maybe we can collaborate. I mean, you know me. I’m the best builder in Atlanta.”
Zalika smiled slightly. “Oh, I know you very well, Kwesi.”
Then she stood up. “I don’t have more time, but I will give you a chance.”
Hope lit up instantly in Kwesi’s eyes.
“My team,” Zalika looked at Sekou, “will do due diligence. A complete ‘life diligence’ of your company. We need to see your accounting, your list of assets, and your list of debts. We will not invest a single dollar in a company that is not transparent.”
Kwesi hesitated. Opening his books would be a disaster. His company wasn’t as healthy as he bragged.
“Why does it have to be so complicated?” he asked. “It’s me, Zal.” He stopped. “Your ex-husband.”
“Precisely for that reason, Mr. Kwesi,” Sekou interrupted. “We must be professional. Take it or leave it. If you reject the audit, we will consider your proposal void and offer our land to another developer. I heard your competition from Buckhead is very interested.”
That was a threat. Kwesi was cornered. If he withdrew, he lost the biggest project of his life. If he moved forward, he had to open his wounds.
“Fine,” Kwesi said, forced. “Fine, audit. I’m not hiding anything.”
Zalika nodded. “Mr. Sekou’s team will contact you. Good afternoon.”
Kwesi was escorted out of the mansion. He got into his car with his knees shaking. He didn’t know if he had just escaped danger or if he had just walked into a trap. What he knew was that the Zalika he just met scared him.
Kwesi returned to the apartment at The Sovereign in a mess.
“Babe!” Inaya greeted him, jumping off the sofa. She was wearing new silk lingerie. “How did it go? Are we rich yet? When can we start planning the wedding in Turks?”
“Shut up for a second, Inaya! I’m thinking,” Kwesi shouted, throwing his jacket on the floor.
Inaya was surprised. “Hey, why are you yelling at me?”
Kwesi paced back and forth. “The investor is complicated. It’s… it’s really messed up.”
“What do you mean complicated? Did they say no?” Inaya asked, her tone starting to get anxious.
“No, not yet. But my God, you’re not going to believe this.” Kwesi pulled his hair. “The investor… The CEO is Zalika.”
Inaya froze. “What? Zalika? The homeless woman?”
“She’s not homeless anymore,” Kwesi growled. “She… she is different. She has a mansion in Cascade. She has a financial consultant. She owns the land.”
Inaya’s beautiful face went pale. This was the worst-case scenario. Not because she loved Kwesi, but because her status, her luxuries, and her future depended on Kwesi’s wallet. And now that wallet was threatened by the woman she had despised the most.
