THE RICH WOMAN’S METAMORPHOSIS

THE RICH WOMAN’S METAMORPHOSIS

THE RICH WOMAN’S METAMORPHOSIS

CHAPTER 1: THE WOMAN ABOVE THE CITY

On the south side of a small city stood one of the most visited hotels, named the Savannah Hotel, with glass walls replacing curtains, as the city stretched endlessly beneath her like a conquered kingdom, no doubt, the city was tied to its roots and led by a young king who was very particular about cleanliness and infrastructural development in his custom jurisdiction.

Sharon was a vibrant lady who always preferred height, so the thirty-first floor was her ideal comfort zone for a stay. She had made a name for herself in the small city of Balii and its nearby towns and villages.

To her, height meant control and control meant power. Power comes with riches, so she could lambast, fire, and reinstate employees as she wants, and nothing would happen.

Her presence got employees on their toes.

The heel trikes on the floor did the announcement for her. Her presence.

At exactly 5:00 a.m., before the sun bruised the horizon with gold, she was already awake. No alarms. No hesitation, just all-around comfort, replaced with discipline and hard work.

Her bedroom was minimalist, featuring neutral tones and sharp lines, with an expensive yet understated aesthetic.

She liked luxury and would express it in style in every given opportunity. She disliked clutter. It reminded her of the childhood struggles she had overcome.

She stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, silk robe tied neatly, dark hair falling over one shoulder. Her lips soliloquise, her mind out of her body, she was soaked in the sea of thoughts, dreams, and fantasies.

From up here, traffic was silent. Just the police siren could be heard from far. Was it a crime chase or an intervention run? One will wonder! People were invisible, and her problems were small.

And she loved it that way.

At 40, Sharon was the founder and CEO of Aura real estate, a rapidly expanding real estate and logistics company and brand that had turned a failing mid-tier hustler into a polished, profitable, established woman, investors described her as “ruthless but brilliant.” Employees called her “madam precision.” Competitors called her “dangerous.” She called herself necessary.

Her phone vibrated softly against the marble nightstand. Three emails from investors in Dubai

One message from her legal team. Two missed calls from her operations manager, Castro. She skimmed them all in under 5 minutes, smiles, it was business, profit margins up to 31%.

New acquisition opportunity pending.

Minor logistics dispute resolved efficiently and predictably.

She had recently submitted a new business plan to her associate investors aimed at tapping into the evergreen Chinese importation business.

The first step was focused on the acquisition of the vessel to secure a strategic position at the newly completed port in Limbe, a coastal city in the country.

That was how she liked her world. Many thought she was happy, but certain things escaped her polished world.

She had no son.

No daughter, but this wasn't about children.

These things were things that required vulnerability as written in the stars. Those were luxuries she naturally did not budget for.