The city of Nairobi pulsed with life, but inside a dimly lit apartment on the outskirts of Silvergate, everything was still.
Amina sat on the torn leather couch, holding the burner phone Elijah had sent. The screen displayed one word: Connected.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
She could hear him breathing.
And that was enough.
"Elijah," she finally whispered.
His voice was soft. "I knew they'd come for you."
"You were right. They're not playing."
"I never expected them to. Not after what they did to my mother."
That caught her attention.
Amina sat up straighter. "Your mother? I thought she died in an accident."
"No," Elijah replied, the word filled with years of suppressed pain. "She was poisoned. Grace made it look like a heart attack."
Amina gasped, her hand instinctively covering her mouth.
"She wanted control," Elijah continued. "And my father… he was too blind. Too loyal. Or too guilty."
Amina blinked. "But you… you were just a kid."
"I was thirteen when I found her body. I knew something was wrong. I tried to speak, but Grace sent me away—to boarding schools, overseas. She said it was for my protection."
He paused.
"Then one day, my car exploded. And I wasn't in it."
"That was the escape?" she whispered.
"I faked my death with the help of my mother's old lawyer. Changed my identity. Disappeared."
"And became a janitor?"
He gave a dry chuckle. "It was the best way to stay invisible. To hear everything. To watch."
Amina leaned back. "So, what now?"
There was a long pause.
Then Elijah said, "Now… we take the empire back."
---
Grace Mwangi adjusted her pearl necklace in front of the mirror.
Kalonzo stood behind her, holding a manila folder.
"The girl still has the notebook," he said.
Grace's lip curled. "Burn it. Burn her if you must."
Kalonzo opened the folder. "We found something else. The lawyer who helped Elijah disappear—he's still alive. Off-grid, but traceable."
Grace's eyes gleamed. "Then we eliminate him. And send a message."
"To the girl?"
"No," Grace said, turning to face him. "To Elijah."
---
Back on campus, Amina slipped the notebook into her backpack and moved quickly through the library corridors.
She had a meeting—off-campus, lowkey.
Elijah had arranged it.
A trusted contact from his past.
She arrived at a small café in Kilimani, hidden between two old bookstores. A dusty sign read "Mbati & Sons Law Office."
Inside, a frail old man looked up from his coffee.
"You're Amina," he said.
She nodded.
He gestured for her to sit. "I'm Robert Mbati. I helped Elijah disappear. You remind me of his mother."
Amina's eyes softened. "You knew her?"
He smiled sadly. "She was fearless. Grace hated her for that."
Robert pulled out a small flash drive and pushed it toward her.
"What's this?"
"The final piece. Elijah's birthright. Hidden company shares, assets, and the key to the boardroom."
Amina clutched it tightly. "Why give it to me?"
"Because you're the only one he trusts."
---
That night, Amina uploaded the files onto her laptop.
The numbers were staggering—offshore accounts, properties in Dubai, Cape Town, Mombasa.
But more shocking was the ownership document:
Elijah Mwangi – 51% controlling shareholder, Mwangi Group of Companies.
She stared at the screen in disbelief.
He didn't just have a piece of the empire.
He was the empire.
And he had walked the halls of Silvergate like a ghost, while others wore tailored suits with empty titles.
---
The next day, Elijah returned to Silvergate.
Disguised.
Amina met him at the old music hall, hidden beneath a hoodie, sunglasses, and a delivery bag.
She ran to him, then froze.
He looked different—leaner, sharper, but his eyes held something new.
Fire.
"You're really back," she breathed.
He nodded. "For you. For the truth."
She handed him the flash drive.
He plugged it into a small encrypted tablet and scanned the data.
"Robert did it," he said quietly. "He saved everything."
"You're the real heir," she whispered.
Elijah looked at her, a storm brewing behind his calm.
"Not anymore."
She blinked. "What?"
He stepped forward, lifting her hand. "We are."
Later that night, Elijah sat in a rented SUV outside Mwangi Towers.
From his vantage point, he watched the security team change shifts.
Grace's guards.
Her fortress.
His birthright.
"She's expecting me," he muttered.
Amina, beside him, nodded. "Then give her what she's not expecting."
He smirked. "A war."