Chapter 8: The first move
805 Words
The next morning, Zanele arrived at the office before the sun climbed the skyline.
Her heels echoed through the marble floors like gavel strikes. Sipho was already waiting by her office door, eyes alert, laptop in hand. He was one of the few who understood what discretion really meant.
“Close the door,” she said, setting her leather tote on the desk.
He obeyed.
She slid into her chair, folded her hands, and gave him the look that always preceded courtroom victories.
“Are we ready?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Sipho replied. “The shell company Kay used to initiate the transfer—Sechaba Holdings—is registered in Lesotho under a shelf-company vendor. But we traced it to a consulting firm she used during her short stint in Cape Town.”
Zanele’s eyes narrowed. “Good. Did you retrieve the dummy directors?”
He nodded. “All fake. Except one—her cousin. He works at a logistics company near Durban Harbour. That’s our breach point.”
“Brilliant,” she said. “I want everything. Company accounts, email correspondence, movement of funds—no gaps.”
Sipho handed her a brown envelope. “This might help. I pulled internal security footage for the week before the draft was saved to our shared drive.”
Zanele opened the envelope.
Inside were stills from a night two weeks ago—Kay, entering the server room, badge in hand, at 11:48 p.m.
Unauthorized.
Unlogged.
Unforgivable.
Zanele stared at the photo. “So she knew what she was doing.”
“She used Mandla’s login. But the entry badge was hers.”
“Sloppy. Greedy.”
“And reckless,” Sipho added.
Zanele leaned back, thoughtful. “Then let’s feed her enough rope to hang herself.”
---
By noon, the bait was ready.
A carefully redrafted proposal for a joint merger between their firm and a mid-size tech compliance company—fictional, but dazzling on paper. She added Mandla’s name as a key strategic advisor and flagged it as For Board Review Only. She tagged it with fake metadata and encrypted the PDF so it would appear “confidential” but not fully protected.
She placed it in a shared drive folder that Kay had historically accessed. Then, she waited.
And like clockwork—at 4:13 p.m.—the file was opened.
Then copied.
Then forwarded.
Zanele’s lips curved ever so slightly. “Checkmate in motion.”
---
That evening, Zanele met with Lesedi Marumo, an old law school rival turned auditor with forensic-level insight and a history of shredding financial lies for sport.
“I need you to quietly trace a potential leak,” Zanele said over cappuccinos in a discreet café in Rosebank. “I want to know where this file lands, who accesses it, and what the next move is. In return, I’ll refer all my high-stakes divorces to you.”
Lesedi smirked. “So we’re playing chess with stolen pawns now?”
“No,” Zanele said. “I’m resetting the board.”
“You think Kay’s still working solo?”
Zanele stirred her coffee. “I think Mandla’s trying to clean up his mess. But she’s too drunk on power to stop.”
Lesedi leaned in. “And what do you plan to do with her?”
“Let her walk right into the lion’s mouth,” Zanele said coldly. “Then I’ll close it.”
---
Back at the office, Zanele passed Mandla in the hallway.
He looked like a man trying to pretend he still belonged.
“Zee,” he said softly, falling into step with her. “Did you read my message this morning?”
She kept walking. “I did.”
“I meant every word.”
Zanele stopped.
Faced him.
“You meant every word when you whispered to me about legacy. About partnership. About building something together. You meant it until you found an easier way.”
His face fell.
“I don’t need another apology,” she said, eyes steely. “I need you to understand that the version of me that forgave you no longer exists.”
She walked on.
Mandla didn’t follow.
---
Late that night, Zanele sat in her dimly lit living room, her laptop open, eyes scanning files. Her trap was already in motion. It was only a matter of days now before the board would be copied on leaked proprietary information tied to Kay—and a formal breach would trigger compliance protocols.
She paused and looked up at the city through her window.
They’d underestimated her.
Because she was careful. Because she was quiet. Because she wore grace like silk and smiled like she hadn’t bled.
But the war had started now.
And she was not just going to win.
She was going to redefine victory.
- Writer
