Chapter 2

King's Mercedes SUV tore through the streets of Lagos with barely controlled violence,the engine roaring as he pushed every speed limit and ran at least two red lights. Victoria sat in the passenger seat, her body rigid, her mind refusing to process what her mother had said.

Collapsed at the rally. Paramedics tried. He's gone.

No,no, no, no. Not her father. Not the man who'd been laughing at breakfast this morning, who'd kissed her forehead and told her to stop worrying about his campaign, who'd had a speech prepared,a rally scheduled and eight more weeks until election day.

"Breathe, Victoria," King commanded, his voice cutting through her spiral. His right hand left the wheel to grip her thigh, "In through your nose, out through your mouth. Breathe, baby."

She tried. Failed,tried again.

"He was fine this morning," Victoria heard herself say, her voice distant and strange. "He was fine. He went jogging. He had oatmeal and complained about Mom trying to make him eat egg whites instead of bacon. He was fine."

"I know." King's jaw was granite, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "We're almost there."

The Okereke family compound appeared ahead, and Victoria's stomach dropped. The gates were open, and the circular driveway that could accommodate twenty cars was packed with at least forty. People everywhere,black suits and dresses. News vans gathering outside the walls like vultures.

"Oh God," Victoria breathed. "It's real. It's true."

King pulled up to the front entrance, ignoring protocol, parking directly at the steps. He was out and right by her side,before she could even move, opening her door and helping her down.

"Stay with me," he said firmly, lacing his fingers through hers. "Don't let go of my hand."

They climbed the steps together. The massive front door was already open before they reached it, and Victoria's mother appeared in the doorway.

Esther Adamma Okereke had always been the picture of elegance,perfectly styled hair, impeccable clothing, and a calm smile that could charm anyone. Tonight, she looked shattered. Her face was blotchy from crying, her hair escaping its pins, her dress wrinkled.

"Mom…" Victoria choked out, and then her mother was pulling her into her arms,both sobbing, and somewhere in the chaos of the crowd full of weeping relatives and shocked political allies, Victoria felt King's solid presence at her back, his hand never leaving hers.

"Where's Uche?" Victoria managed to ask when she could breathe. "Where's my brother?"

"His room," her mother said, pulling back to cup Victoria's face. Her hands were shaking. "He won't come out,won't speak. Victoria, he saw it happen. He was on stage with your father when…when…"

She couldn't finish. Didn't need to.

"I need to see him," Victoria said. She turned to King. "I need…"

"Go," King said immediately. "I'll handle things down here."

"Victoria." His hands framed her face, his thumbs stroking her cheeks around them, people were watching and whispering, but King didn't care. He never cared who was watching when it came to her. "Your family is my family. Your pain is my pain. I will be here to support you okay?."

She nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat, and turned toward the grand staircase. Behind her, she heard King's voice, deep,authoritative and already taking charge "Housekeeper get Mrs. Okereke water and set a chair somewhere quiet for her to sit.

King uses his eyes to search amongst the crowd. Where is Chief’s PA?He needs to call the family lawyer?. And someone needs to be managing the press outside before they turn this into a circus."

Victoria climbed the stairs on numb legs, her hand trailing along the bannister her father had refinished himself ten years ago because he liked working with his hands, liked building things, liked creating beauty.

Past tense! Already she was thinking in the past tense.

The second-floor hallway was blessedly empty, though she could hear crying from various rooms. Her father's study door was closed. She couldn't look at it. Not yet. Instead, she turned toward the east wing,which led to her brother's suite.

The door was locked.

"Uche?" Victoria knocked softly. "Uche, it's me. Please open the door."

Silence.

"Uche, please. I need to see you. I need to know you're okay."

More silence, and then…"Go away, Vee."

Her childhood nickname, but delivered in a voice so hollow and broken which made her flinch.

"I'm not going away," Victoria said, pressing her forehead against the door. "I'm not leaving you alone right now. Either you open this door, or I'm getting King to break it down. You know he will."

A long pause,then the sound of a lock turning.

Victoria pushed the door open carefully. Her brother's room was dark except for the city lights filtering through the windows. Uche sat on the edge of his bed, still wearing his rally clothes,a shirt now wrinkled and stained with something Victoria realized with horror might be blood.

Her father's blood.

"Oh, Uche," she whispered, rushing to him.

Her brother looked up, and his face was the face of a ghost. Thirty years old, brilliant corporate lawyer, always so composed and confident and ready with a clever joke,replaced by a hollow-eyed stranger.

"I couldn't stop it," Uche said, his voice mechanical. "One second he was speaking, talking about education reform and fighting corruption, and everyone was cheering. The next second he just stopped,grabbed his chest,looked at me like he was confused. And then he fell."

Victoria sat beside him, taking his hand. It was ice-cold.

"They said heart attack," Uche continued, staring at nothing. "But Vicky, I saw his face,he looked…Like it wasn't supposed to happen,like someone…" His voice cracked. "The worst is that the medics took forever,they said they were held in traffic. By the time they arrived, he was already…"

He couldn't say it. Neither could she.

“Have you spoken to Cassie? As she broke the silence.Has she called? Because you need someone,I hate that you locked yourself up here alone.”

“Vee i’m not in the mood to speak to anyone,I let you in here because it is you. Although she has been calling,I saw her condolence text some moments ago. She is hosting a premiere over the weekend in Canada,so she still has about a week to wrap up.i believe she will be here as soon as she can. That isn't my issue now Vee.

Victoria holds his hand tight as she nods her head, trying to let him know that she understands.They sat together in the dark, two privileged children who'd grown up in their house believing their father was invincible, that justice and goodness would always prevail, that the good guys will always win in the end.

Tonight, they learned the truth. Sometimes the good guys die.

Outside, the city celebrated Christmas,inside the Okereke compound, a family mourned a man who'd dared to fight corruption in a system designed to crush reformers.

And in her pocket, Victoria's phone buzzed with a text.

From King: “Found your purse in the car and for the ring… Whenever you're ready, I'm here. I love you and will never leave your side”-K

Victoria closed her eyes against fresh tears. Hours ago, she'd been ready to say yes,ready to surrender to the love she'd been running from, ready to trust King with all of herself.

Now her father was dead, and the proposal didn't matter anymore.

Nothing mattered except the hollow ache in her chest and the sound of her brother's broken,breathing in the dark.