Japheth sank into the seat beside Mwila, dropped his bag, and let out a deep sigh that seemed to come from somewhere beneath his ribs.

Mwila leaned in, eyes wide. “Ah, so it’s that bad?”

“Not bad,” Japheth muttered. “Just unexpected. I’ve been moved to the CEO’s office.”

Mwila’s brows shot up. “Say what now?”

Luyando’s spine straightened. “Wait… was that the plan all along?”

Japheth turned to him, brow furrowed. “Seriously? What kind of question is that? You knew this was in the works.”

“I’m sorry,” Luyando said quickly. “It’s just… I thought it was off the table with Uncle Obadiah gone. I didn’t see that coming. At all.”

Japheth exhaled through his nose. “Neither did I. This isn’t about plans. I didn’t ask for this. Your uncle wrote the letter before he died. They’re just following through.”

Luyando nodded slowly, clearly a bit uncomfortable. “Right.”

Mwila, watching the exchange, said with a grin, “You two are being dramatic. Kaweme is CEO now. If you think she needs shielding, Luyando, maybe you don’t know her.”

He laughed, then added with a wink, “Although, if Japheth is her new right-hand man, my chances are officially dead.”

“Not this time, Mwila,” Luyando said tightly.

Mwila held up both hands. “Okay, okay. I get it. No jokes around your cousin.”

But his smile faded as he stood, the usual sparkle in his eyes dimming. He returned to his desk without another word.

Japheth didn’t like the silence. But he also didn’t like being cornered.

“You know I’m not chasing anything,” he said quietly to Luyando. “I’m just trying to do my work.”

“I know,” Luyando said. “But what if she starts chasing you?”

Japheth blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve said it before, Japheth. You don’t want to marry. Ever. And I respect that. But if she falls for you… what happens then?”

Japheth stared at the floor. “I never led her on.”

“I know,” Luyando said. “That’s the thing. You didn’t have to. I can see the signs, she is beginning to…”

A pause.

Japheth’s voice dropped. “Then I guess I’ll find a way to stop it before it starts.”

Luyando studied him for a long moment, then softened. “You know what? Forget I said anything. You’re the best man I know. If anyone deserves this new role… It’s you. Kaweme is lucky to have you, and I love how you defeated Nkandu without even trying.”

Japheth smiled faintly. “Thanks, brother.”

They stood and embraced, tight, warm, unspoken things passing between them.

“Just… don’t leave me in the trenches, okay?” Luyando said.

“Never.”

Japheth slung his bag over his shoulder and made for the door. As he passed Mwila’s desk, he paused, rapped twice on the wood.

Mwila glanced up. “Don’t worry, boss. I’m still your biggest fan.”

Japheth smiled. “Good.”

But the smile barely lasted. Because just before he reached the hallway, Nkandu stepped into his path.

“You think this is over?”

Japheth turned slowly, calmly. “Far from it.”

Nkandu’s jaw tightened. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but trust me, this little promotion won’t save you.”

Japheth didn’t flinch. “It’s not a game. It’s my job. And I’m going to do it, with or without your blessing.”

He stepped past him without another word.

And for the first time in a long while…

He felt like he was walking toward something that mattered.

—————————————————————————————————————————-

Kaweme had been to the restroom twice in the last twenty minutes.

Not because she needed to go. Just to check herself.

Lipstick still intact. Hair still in place. She tugged at the hem of her navy blazer, adjusted the gold brooch on her lapel, and tried not to look as nervous as she felt.

Today wasn’t just any day.

Today, she’d be briefed on several of her father’s outstanding executive projects, the billion-kwacha initiatives his office had been leading before his passing. Power plant investments. An infrastructure overhaul with one of Zambia’s biggest internet providers. Even a complex merger proposal involving a fintech startup in South Africa and a mobile lending app in Kenya. Nothing she was fully ready for. Yet, nothing she could afford to get wrong.

And today, Japheth was coming in.

She didn’t let herself think too much about it… but she had topped up her lipstick, hadn’t she?

The Chief of Staff had mentioned he would be present.

“He’s the brain behind a lot of the systems in this company, though handled through his department.” the man had said. “So, I didn’t know that your father knew him personally, to have trusted him enough to give him this position. Japheth is a bit of a recluse, but when he speaks, you want to listen. He’s that good.”

Kaweme hadn’t replied.

She’d just smiled… secretly glad that finally she wasn’t going to be alone. Her father left many things, yet this promotion for Japheth felt like icing on the cake.

By the time she entered the conference room, he was already seated. The moment their eyes met, he stood.

She tried not to smile too broadly.

“Oh no, please sit,” she said, walking to her seat at the head of the table. “Nice to see you again, Japheth.”

The Chief of Staff blinked, surprised. “You know him?”

“Luyando’s friend,” she said smoothly, sliding into her seat. “Luyando’s my cousin.”

“Ah,” the man said, chuckling. “Well, that certainly makes things easier for me.”

The meeting began.

Directors and senior managers trickled in, briefcases in hand, brows furrowed, voices already humming with corporate speak. She nodded through introductions, listening with half a mind. Most of her attention was on the man across from her. Japheth sat slightly off to the side, sleeves rolled to the elbow, pen in hand, taking notes with effortless calm.

He hadn’t looked at her once since she entered, apart from when they had greeted each other at the beginning.

But his presence radiated across the table, quiet, unshakable, focused.

Peace, she thought.

That’s what it felt like, seeing him. Like peace had come to sit in a chair and take notes. And she wanted a slice of it. Just a taste of calm in a life that had become noise and performance and too many expectations.

She watched the way his brow furrowed when someone mentioned a budget error in the broadband rollout, the way he leaned forward slightly when the Chief of Staff began to outline her father’s vision for a regional training academy.

She was trying to keep up, truly trying, but the pressure was building behind her temples.

And then it happened.

One of the directors, Mr. Nkandu, head of Product Strategy, made a bold suggestion about pivoting one of their mobile platforms to incorporate e-wallet loans. It sounded smart. Bold. He was confident. Already mapping out timelines. Kaweme was nodding, about to say yes.

Then her phone buzzed beneath the table.

She glanced down.

From Japheth: “Tell them you want to think about it. Don’t agree just yet.”

She paused. Straightened. Looked up without meeting his eyes.

“I think I’ll… take some time to think about that,” she said, voice even.

Across the table, Nkandu blinked.

The Chief of Staff nodded approvingly.

The meeting continued, but Kaweme couldn’t concentrate anymore.

He had her back.

Even now, quietly.

When the meeting ended, people began to pack their things. Chairs screeched. Murmurs of “we’ll follow up next week” floated through the air.

She stood.

“Japheth,” she said lightly, not turning fully toward him. “Please wait behind.”

He paused. “Yes, ma.”

“No,” she turned now, looking at him full in the face. “We’re not doing that. I’m sure you’re not about to start calling me ma, are you?”

He half-smiled. “You’re my boss.”

She raised a brow. “And we both know who really runs this place.”

“It’s not about knowledge,” Japheth replied. “It’s about power and authority. And you have that now. I respect that.”

She smiled again, a touch? softer this time. “Come with me?”

He followed her down the hallway toward the CEO’s office.

And for the first time since her father died… the seat didn’t feel so heavy anymore.

Kaweme’s hands trembled slightly as she opened the door to her father’s office, the office that was now, technically, hers.

It still felt too heavy to claim.

The nameplate had changed.

The seat was hers.

But in her heart, it still belonged to him.

Japheth followed her inside, his steps respectful, his body language stiff. She saw him glance instinctively toward the massive desk… only to choose the sitting area instead, perching at the farthest end of the leather couch.

She almost smiled.

“I don’t bite, Japheth,” she said softly, settling into the couch too, leaving a whole world of space between them.

He gave a faint smile. “I know.”

“I talk with my friends.”

He gave a short nod. “Yeah, but in this context, you’re my CEO.”

She laughed lightly. “Do you know what a CEO is?”

“I do,” he said. “And that’s exactly why it’s more serious now. And now that I’m officially working for your office, we have to tread carefully with our interactions… if I had known, I would have stayed away the entire past month.”

Her chest tightened.

The distance in his tone, the way he pulled back, she hated it.

She hated it because she understood it.

“I’m your boss,” she whispered. “But… I still need my friends.”

“You’ll always have your friends,” he said, his voice warm but firm. “But leadership is lonely, ma’am. You need to be careful. People notice things. Relationships. Familiarities. You don’t want to give anyone an excuse to disrespect you.”

Kaweme tilted her head. “I thought companies like ours operated on a first-name basis.”

“They do,” Japheth agreed. “Except for the CEO. The CEO gets the ‘sir’ or ‘ma’am.’ Always.”

“Because my father was fifty six!” she challenged. “I’m twenty-five, Japheth. And I’m still me.”

He sighed. “I know. But perception matters here. More than you think.”

There was a pause.

“You wanted to see me,” he said, pulling them back to business.

She nodded, forcing herself to gather her thoughts.

“I’m happy you’re here. You know that, right?” she said, voice low. “Without you, Japheth… I would have drowned already.”

“You wouldn’t,” he said gently. “You’re smarter than you think. That’s why I’ve been researching something for you. I found a program, an executive education in telecommunications. It would sharpen your leadership in the sector. If you go for it, you’ll be unstoppable.”

Her eyes lit up. “I’ll go… if you come with me.”

He chuckled, looking startled. “What? Kaweme, it’s expensive. You can’t just spend the company’s money like that.”

“I’m the CEO,” she teased.

He smiled, but it faded quickly. “It’s not about power. It’s about stewardship. You don’t want to start on the wrong foot.”

She sighed.

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re… relentless,” he said, shaking his head with a reluctant smile. “In a good way.”

Before she could say more, there was a knock on the door.

A senior director entered, holding a stack of files.

“Apologies for interrupting, Madam,” he said. “I just need your approval on these contracts. Nothing complicated. You can trust me.”

She blinked, caught off-guard by the casualness.

Japheth stood up instinctively, giving her privacy, but she gestured for him to wait.

She glanced down at the documents, her mind spinning.

She barely understood half the jargon.

She was tempted to simply sign and trust him.

Surely he knew better.

Then her phone buzzed on the desk. She went to check it.

A text from Japheth.

“Don’t sign yet. Say you’ll think about it.”

Her heart jumped.

Without hesitating, she looked up and said coolly, “Give me thirty minutes to review it.”

The director blinked, surprised, but nodded and left.

Silence settled once more.

“You want to say something?” she asked Japheth, heart pounding.

He shrugged. “No. You already did the right thing.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she said, her voice cracking.

He stepped closer, resting his hands lightly on the back of a chair.

“You know more than you think. Trust your instincts, Kaweme. You’re a businesswoman. You’re not alone.”

For a moment, she wanted to cry again.

But she just nodded.

Trying to keep the conversation light, she said, “Can you take me for lunch? I feel like running away.”

He smiled softly.

“As much as I’d like to, I have a lot to hand over today, so I will take a rain check, but soon, I am sure we can all go for lunch with the team.”

Her heart sank a little.

She forced a nod. “Of course. Thank you. You can go.”

Japheth gave a slight bow and walked out.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Kaweme sank into her chair.

Embarrassed.

Lonely.

Hurting.

She pulled her knees up, hugging herself for a long moment.

“Lord Jesus,” she whispered into the empty room, “I need your help now more than ever. I don’t know how to steward this life. And this man, Japheth… I don’t know why I like him so much. But it’s painful that he doesn’t see me. Please… make him care. Make him like me back.”

Tears burned her eyes, but she wiped them away fiercely.

There was work to do.

And a future to claim.

Even if her heart stayed broken for a while longer.