The car slowed as we approached the main estate, and suddenly the ocean breeze felt heavier. It was like it carried expectations instead of salt. Through the tinted window, I caught my first glimpse of the place Sophia had referred to as “the real Black compound.”
This wasn't just a compound. It was a palace.
The estate rose from the cliffside like it had been carved out of light and old money. White stone walls, clean-cut terraces, endless balconies draped in bougainvillea, and glass windows that reflected every inch of paradise. Security gates slid open as our convoy rolled in, and staff in crisp white linen waited at the entrance like we were royalty returning home.
When I stepped out, my sandals touched cool marble. I adjusted my sunglasses, pretending not to gawk, but the way the e
