Chapter 4

It's been Seventy-two whole hours since her father collapsed on stage and never got back up. Seventy-two hours of condolence visits,reporters shouting questions over the compound walls, and her mother moving through the house like a beautiful ghost.

Victoria hadn't really slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw her father's face,laughing at breakfast, kissing her forehead, telling her he loved her one last time before heading to that rally.

King hadn't left her side except when absolutely necessary-Work.

He'd moved into one of the guest suites,managing the chaos in the compound with the quiet authority of a man used to commanding empires.

Her mother kept thanking him with tears in her eyes.He had become a son indeed.

Uche hadn't emerged from his room except once, to identify their father's body at the morgue.

It was 3 AM when she suddenly woke. King crashed on the sofa in her ante room;he'd insisted on staying close, to make sure she slept.

Victoria pulled on her robe and slipped out of her room, bare feet silent on the hardwood floors. The house was finally quiet,no more visitors,or crying from various rooms. Just the empty silence of grief.

She found herself outside her father's study. The door was still closed. No one had gone in since. As if opening that door would confirm he was never coming back to sit behind his desk.

Victoria's hand trembled as she reached for the handle. The study smelled like him,books and the particular brand of cologne he'd worn for thirty years.

His reading glasses sat on the desk, next to a half-finished cup of coffee that had grown a thin film on top. Papers scattered everywhere…campaign materials, constituent letters, research on education reform. A life interrupted mid-way.

Victoria pressed her hand to her mouth, swallowing the sob that wanted to escape. She couldn't break down. Not again, if she started crying now she might never stop.

Instead, she moved to his desk, trailing her fingers over the leather chair. Reminiscing on all the late-night conversations they had shared in the room about life.

"The world doesn't need more politicians, princess,"he'd told her once. "It needs more people who can't be bought. People with spines and hearts that refuse to go cold."She'd laughed. "That's a pretty high bar, Daddy."

Victoria sank into his chair, letting herself pretend for just a moment that he might walk through the door, complain about her stealing his seat, ruffle her hair like she was still ten years old. But he wouldn't,ever again.

Her gaze fell on the desk drawer. The locked one he'd never let anyone access. “Private papers”, he'd always said. She'd respected his privacy and never pushed.

Now, though…

Victoria tried the drawer. Locked, as expected. She searched the desk, found the small key taped under the center drawer,a hiding spot he'd shown her years ago "in case of emergency."

The drawer opened with a soft click. Inside, a leather-bound journal sat on top of manila folders. Victoria lifted the journal with shaking hands, opened it to the first page.

Donald Ikemba Okereke - Private Thoughts

Her father's handwriting, bold and confident. She flipped through pages of dated entries,observations about politics, frustrations with corruption, hopes for reform, worries about the toll his work took on his family.

And then, the last entry. Dated the morning he died. Victoria's vision blurred as she read…

December 15th - Early morning

“If you're reading this, I'm already dead. I know how dramatic that sounds. My daughter will probably roll her eyes at my flair for the act. Yes, princess, I know you're reading this. You're the only one stubborn enough to break into my locked drawer.

The death threats started three weeks ago. Anonymous at first, then increasingly specific. I reported them to the police, but we both know how that goes when the threats come from people with power and money.

Senator Mbanefo wants me out of this race. I'm polling twelve points ahead, and my platform threatens every corrupt system he's spent decades building. He offered bribes,and guaranteed positions if I drop out. When I refused, the threats began.

I'm not dropping out. This country needs reform more than it needs my safety,but I'm not naive. I know the risks I'm taking.

Victoria, my brilliant, compassionate daughter who thinks she's not strong enough for this world. You're wrong! You've always been wrong about yourself, you're the strongest person I know. You just hide it behind smiles because you're afraid of disappointing people. Stop being afraid.

The constituency doesn't need another politician. They don't need someone perfect and willing to compromise their soul for votes. They need someone who can't be bought,someone who cares more about truth than power. Someone like you.

I know Uche is the expected choice. Your brother is brilliant, kind, everything I could want in a son. But politics will destroy him,he's too gentle for this world, too eager to please. He'll compromise himself into nothing trying to make everyone happy.

You won't,you'll fight,you'll stand firm and you'll refuse to bend even when they try to break you. If I'm gone, the party will panic. They'll push for Uche because tradition says the son inherits the father's legacy. Don't let them. Step forward,run,finish what I started Princess.

I love you more than you'll ever know. I'm so proud of the woman you've become,the woman you're still becoming. Don't let my death make you small, rather let it make you fierce. The world needs fierce women,it always has.”

Your father,

Donald.

Victoria didn't realize she was crying until tears splashed on the page, blurring the ink.He'd known someone might kill him,yet he'd kept campaigning anyway.

And now he wanted her to finish his work.

"Victoria?"

She looked up to find King standing in the doorway, hair mussed from sleep, wearing only pajama pants slung low on his hips. He must have woken when she left her room.

"I found his journal," she whispered. "He knew, King. He knew someone might kill him."

King crossed the room in three strides, reading over her shoulder.

"Mbanefo," King said, his voice deadly quiet. "Your father named him directly."

"Death threats aren't proof of murder," Victoria said, though her hands shook. "The autopsy said heart attack"

"The autopsy that was delayed for 'additional testing?Amanda's contacts say it had unusual markers,Baby your father was murdered. We both know it."

"But he wants me to run," she said. "Not Uche."

"The party will never accept it. A woman candidate? In my father's seat? They'll say I'm too young and inexperienced or too…"

"Too female?" King turned the chair so she faced him, his hands framing her face. "Let them say it. Prove them wrong." "I don't know if I can." 

"Stop." His thumbs stroked her cheeks, wiping away tears. "Stop doubting yourself.” 

Your father spent his last morning writing you a letter, telling you exactly what you're capable of. Are you going to ignore him?"

Victoria's breath hitched. "What if I fail? What if I destroy everything he built?" "Then you fail fighting," King said fiercely. "Which is better than never fighting at all.”

Victoria, I've watched you for three years negotiate impossible marketing campaigns, handle difficult clients with your charm. You have every skill you need for this."

"Politics isn't marketing" she interrupted 

"Politics is exactly marketing! You're selling yourself, your vision, your promise of change." King's eyes burned into hers. "And baby,You just don't see it because you've spent your whole life believing less of yourself."

"I'm scared," Victoria admitted in a whisper.

"Good." King's lips curved into a slight smile. "Fear means you understand the stakes. His expression sobered. 

"But you're not doing this alone. My money,connections,and my entire empire…is yours. Whatever you need to win, I'll make it happen."

"King, your company has contracts with…"

"I know." His jaw tightened. "We'll handle it. I'll restructure if necessary. Victoria, I don't care what it costs.

Your father was murdered for trying to clean up this sump of corruption. Someone has to finish what he started."

"And you think that someone is me?"

"I know it is." King pulled her up from the chair, into his arms. She went willingly, pressing her face against his bare chest, breathing in his scent;sandalwood and oud. "Your father knew it too.

That's why he wrote this letter. He believed in you, Victoria. When are you going to believe in yourself?"

Victoria closed her eyes, her father's words echoing in her mind. Don't let my death make you small. Let it make you fierce.

"Take me to bed," Victoria whispered against his mouth.King lifted her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist. "I've got you baby. He carried her out of her father's study, up the stairs back to her room.