Akosua
The sun had barely kissed the skyline of Accra when I stepped into my new office.
The air smelled of fresh paint and ambition, a sharp contrast to the suffocating, recycled air of Agyeman Group. My heels clicked against the polished marble floor, echoing like the heartbeat of a new empire waiting to be born.
I paused for a moment, letting my eyes sweep over the space. Empty desks, blank screens, and the faint hum of potential surrounded me. It wasn't much yet. But it would be.
I inhaled deeply.
No one had seen me coming. No one had expected that the woman they had cast aside, mocked, and underestimated would rise again so quickly. Not even Kofi. Not even Queen Afia.
I poured myself a cup of coffee—black, bitter, strong. I had no time for comfort. There were decisions to make, structures to set, and strategies to execute. Every moment wasted was a moment someone else could try to steal what I was about to build.
The first call came in almost immediately. My mentor, the woman who had taught me everything I knew, her voice calm and steady:
"Akosua, are you ready?"
I smiled, even though no one could see me. "Born ready."
"Good. The first investors are waiting."
I turned to face the city, imagining the Agyeman towers in the distance, my former empire, now vulnerable in the hands of someone unprepared. Kofi had thought he could replace me. Princess Adjoa had thought she could handle what I had built. Both were wrong.
I picked up my phone. "Send them in."
By mid-morning, the office was alive with activity. Teams of young professionals, sharp minds, and hungry hearts gathered around me. They hadn't seen the empire crumble yet; they didn't know the stakes. But they trusted me. And that trust was worth more than any investor's approval.
I walked them through the first project: a tech venture, designed to disrupt the West African market. I explained every step, every detail, every risk, and every contingency. My voice was calm, measured, patient. I didn't need to shout. They listened. They learned. They believed.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I pictured Kofi trying to run Agyeman Group without me. I smiled faintly. Not cruelly, not out of spite—but with the quiet satisfaction of someone who knew the truth: empires built on respect, skill, and intelligence could not be faked.
Hours passed. The strategies were drafted. The proposals finalized. The investors nodded, impressed, and even a few competitors began to whisper.
"Akosua," my mentor said, leaning against the doorway, "you're already making waves. They'll notice soon."
I nodded, letting my eyes drift to the city below. Waves, indeed. Big ones. And I intended to ride them straight to the top.
The door opened again. One of my first team members entered, eyes wide.
"Miss Mensah… a message from Agyeman Group."
I didn't flinch. I already knew. Kofi's empire was in trouble. Their mismanagement was obvious even to outsiders. Numbers were leaking, deals were failing, and the princess… well, her pride and arrogance were doing more damage than any competitor could.
I read the message carefully, every word sharp, calculated, and damning.
I smiled faintly. The empire I had left behind was bleeding. And yet, I felt no glee. Just… focus. Determination. The knowledge that my path forward was clearer than ever.
By evening, I had secured two major partnerships, recruited a new team of specialists, and outlined my next three projects. Akosua Mensah was no longer a name whispered behind closed doors. She was becoming a force to be reckoned with.
Still, I didn't allow myself to celebrate. Not yet. There were more battles ahead.
And one battle in particular kept my thoughts tethered to the past: Kofi.
I didn't want him. Not yet. Not until the empire was solid, until my work spoke louder than any of his regrets. But I couldn't ignore the ache when I thought of the man who had once been my partner, the man who had betrayed me, the man who had watched me leave without a word.
His empire was crumbling. Princess Adjoa was faltering. And yet… he was Kofi Agyeman. He would fight. He would stumble. He would claw his way back.
And when he did… I needed to be ready.
The office grew quiet as the sun dipped below the horizon. My team left, exhausted but inspired. My mentor lingered, eyes gleaming with pride.
"You're ready," she said softly.
"I am," I replied, though my voice carried more than just confidence. It carried fire. Determination. The resolve of someone who had been underestimated, erased, and discarded—and who was now unstoppable.
I moved to my window, watching the city lights flicker to life. Accra sparkled, indifferent to the empires rising and falling within it. But I didn't care about indifference. I cared about power. Influence. Legacy. And I would claim mine, step by step, deal by deal, strategy by strategy.
And somewhere, in a tower I had once walked beside, Kofi Agyeman stared at his screens, watching his empire falter without understanding why.
He hadn't realized the cost of removing me. He hadn't realized that I had been the engine. The backbone. The mind behind the throne.
He would learn soon enough.
And when he did…
The empire I built from scratch would be untouchable.
The thought was intoxicating.
And as I leaned back in my chair, letting the plans, the victories, and the potential wash over me, I allowed myself a single, quiet smile.
Akosua Mensah was rising. And no one—no prince, no princess, no queen—would stop her.
Late that night, as I finalized the contracts for a massive deal, a single notification popped up on my screen: an email from Kofi Agyeman. Subject line: We need to talk.
I stared at it, pulse quickening. One name. One message. One man. And I knew, without hesitation, that the past I had left behind was coming to knock on my door.