Chapter 10: Checkmate in progress
795 Words
By mid-morning, Zanele was in her office, flanked by thick files, two burner phones, and a slim silver laptop running off a secure VPN. Her eyes were sharper than they'd been in days.
The tears were gone. The grief was buried.
Only precision remained.
Sipho stood at attention as she outlined her plan.
“We trigger Clause 7.3 of the Partners Agreement,” she said. “Mandla’s unauthorized financial actions and strategic proposals outside board consent constitute breach of fiduciary duty.”
Sipho nodded. “That clause initiates a forced review by the oversight committee.”
“Exactly. And under emergency bylaws I authored during COVID, the lead partner—me—can initiate a temporary freeze on his executive privileges while the review is in progress.”
Sipho blinked. “You’re freezing Mandla out of his own legacy.”
Zanele’s voice was ice. “He tried to steal what was never his to begin with.”
She stood and gathered the signed authorizations. “File it through internal compliance. Make sure the timestamp shows today's date. And deliver the freeze notice to his PA by 3 p.m.”
“Understood.”
She turned to her window as Sipho left, the skyline looking just a little smaller today. Her reflection in the glass stared back like a woman who had decided there would be no more mercy.
---
By 2:46 p.m., Mandla had received the notice.
By 3:01, she received the angry call.
She let it ring.
At 3:09, the firm’s legal counsel replied with confirmation: the board had received the notice. Mandla’s access to sensitive data, accounts, and contracts was officially revoked pending investigation.
By 4:00, Kay still hadn’t emerged from her office.
Zanele didn’t care.
She had another plan to set in motion.
---
That evening, she met Thami at a private rooftop bar in Rosebank—dimly lit, quiet, tucked away from the chaos of the city. The sky bled orange and gold.
He was already seated when she arrived, hands wrapped around a glass of still water, no ice. Always calm. Always watching.
“You pulled the trigger,” he said when she sat down.
Zanele exhaled. “I did.”
“Good.”
There was no judgment in his voice. Just quiet approval.
“I need more,” she said, leaning in. “I need Kay’s paper trail. The offshore accounts. The shadow deals. I want to unearth everything she’s ever touched, including the birth records of that child if they exist.”
Thami raised an eyebrow. “Going for the jugular?”
“No. The root,” she said. “And I want her to feel it. Not just financially. I want to humiliate her the way she thought she could humiliate me.”
He gave a slow, deliberate nod.
“I’ll help,” he said. “But not because I hate her. Or Mandla.”
She looked at him.
He shrugged. “I’m doing it for you.”
Something in her chest flickered. A warning. A warmth. A weight.
They sat in silence for a moment as the sun dipped below the city’s edge.
“You were always there,” she said quietly. “Even when I married the wrong man.”
Thami’s jaw tensed. “Don’t say that.”
“It’s true.”
“I was a coward. I should have told you how I felt back then. But I thought Mandla made you happy.”
Zanele turned her eyes to him.
And for the first time in years, she let herself really see him—strong, patient, still carrying a quiet kind of longing. The kind that didn’t beg to be chosen but waited until you saw it for yourself.
She leaned closer, her fingers resting near his hand. Her face inches from his.
He didn’t move.
The tension was electric.
Their breath mingled in the still air. Her eyes fluttered closed.
Then—
She stopped.
Pulled back gently.
“No,” she whispered. “Not now. If I start something tonight... I’ll be looking for comfort, not clarity.”
Thami nodded, his voice low. “I can wait. But I won’t lie—I’ve missed you.”
Zanele smiled softly, her heart aching from too many directions.
“I’m not ready,” she said.
“I didn’t ask you to be.”
They sat there, shoulder to shoulder, as the city pulsed beneath them.
She took a sip of her wine, lips still tingling from the almost.
Tomorrow, she’d begin her investigation into Kay’s past—with Thami at her side.
But tonight, she allowed herself this one quiet moment of possibility.
And for the first time in weeks, Zanele felt like something was being built again.
Only this time, it was on her terms.
- Writer
