It's just past midnight when the vibration of my phone cuts through the silence of my bedroom.
I groan softly, blindly reaching for the device on the nightstand. The screen lights up my face. A single message from Tunde, my senior logistics manager, one of the few people I've always trusted implicitly.
> Madam, I hate to disturb you at this hour, but things are spiraling. Some minor shareholders started selling this week. The board is getting nervous. Gloria's been slipping up a lot. Please, come in. We need you.
I sit up slowly, rubbing my eyes, trying to summon focus. My body still feels drained from today's hospital visit. Low PCV, low energy. The doctor's words echo in my mind "You need to rest more. Eat more. Think less."
I wish that were possible.
Sliding out of bed, I wrap myself in a cotton robe and pad over to the window. The city glows faintly in the distance. Lagos never truly sleeps, but something about tonight feels especially restless. The kind of night where old problems knock harder than usual.
Tunde wouldn't text unless it was serious. He's not one to panic.
I glance at the mirror. My skin looks a little sallow under the dim light. The weight I've lost shows around my collarbone. My belly is just beginning to round out under my shirt a quiet, persistent reminder that I'm building something, someone, even as I try to hold the pieces of my former life together.
I reply with a short text:
> I'll come in later today. Thank you for the heads up.
Then I sit on the edge of the bed and exhale deeply.
I'd hoped for more time. A little more breathing space before stepping back into the very building that once mirrored my confidence, my dominance. But business doesn't wait for wounds to heal. And this one my company isn't just numbers and shipments and office chatter. It's mine. My name, my blueprint. My fight.
Gloria.
She's been through too much. I can't even fault her for slipping lately. After that night she showed up at my door, a mess of tears and grief, I knew she wasn't okay. We've been holding each other up in quiet, uneven ways. But maybe it's time I start holding the business up again too.
I don't sleep after that. I just lie in bed, hands on my stomach, thoughts bouncing between board meetings, legal files, pregnancy vitamins, and the face I'll have to put on when I walk through those glass doors.
By 9:15 a.m., I'm stepping into the company lobby.
The receptionist does a double take then greets in her usual rehearsed tone. A few heads rise from cubicles. The energy shifts, quiet whispers buzzing like flies.
I haven't been here in over five weeks. Almost six.
I take the stairs instead of the elevator partly because I don't want to be trapped in a box of awkward greetings, and partly because I want to feel each step under me. Like I'm climbing back toward something I let fall.
Tunde is already waiting outside my office. His expression is respectful, but the relief is plain.
"Madam. Thank you."
I nod once. "Let's talk inside."
My office feels the same except it doesn't. The air's stale, the blinds slightly askew. A plant in the corner is browning at the edges. I walk around the desk slowly, touch the leather chair, let my fingers trail across the table.
Home, but not home.
I sit.
Tunde places a few files on the desk. "The minor shareholders three of them started selling last week. Rumors got out. Some employees started panicking. A few clients called to check if we were folding or changing management."
"Are we?" I ask, voice dry.
He smiles grimly. "Not on my watch. And certainly not on yours either. But optics matter. Your silence has left a gap."
I nod. "And Gloria?"
His mouth tightens. "She's doing her best, but… she's not you. And she's clearly going through a lot. Her mood shifts. Forgetting follow-ups. Snapping at junior staff. People notice."
A small ache pulses behind my eyes.
I owe her more grace. But I also owe the company stability.
"Schedule a full board meeting. Tomorrow morning. Let the staff know I'm back in an interim capacity. Not fully, but… I'll be visible."
Tunde nods. "Understood."
He hesitates.
"Say it," I prompt.
"Some board members are suggesting you name an acting COO. Temporarily. Someone the investors can rally around until you're fully back."
I inhale. My spine stiffens.
"That's not happening."
Tunde doesn't argue. He just nods slowly.
When he leaves, I swivel in my chair and look out the window.
The city sprawls in front of me confusing, chaotic, unapologetic. So much like me, before all of this.
There's a tap on the door. Gloria peeks in.
Her eyes widen when she sees me. "You're here."
"I am."
She walks in slowly, sits across from me.
For a moment, neither of us speaks.
Then she says, "I'm sorry. I've been fumbling. I don't know how.
But I know how , I would have blamed her or fired her if it was me months before now.
I'm stuck between offering words of encouragement and not looking like I'm condoning incompetence.
Since this whole drama started it's been Gloria every day and everywhere, keeping my company from collapsing and keeping me alive and well. She's been involved every step of the way and hasn't for a day complained about a thing...
So I do the only thing I felt was rational I assign some of her tasks to Tunde who's happy to help...