CHAPTER 39

CHAPTER 39

[NIKEZINKOSI]

Mnotho is holding my hand tightly, like someone or some wild animal will come out of nowhere and snatch me if I walk without him. His grip is firm, protective. Almost like a possessive lover.
We are getting closer to the cliff now, the view slowly opening up to reveal the most beautiful mountains I've ever seen.
Earlier, when he stopped to tie his shoes, he told me to stand still and wait for him. And I did.
We haven't seen any animals on this side, so it feels safe. There are no predators here. Earlier, we only saw a giraffe in the distance and honestly, I don't think a giraffe would pick me up, wait for Mnotho to look away, and then run off with me.
Still, he holds my hand like the world is dangerous. Which it is.
"Damn, when are we reaching the destination?" he complains softly, his voice full of fake suffering. "We should have just gotten into those carts and driven to wherever you wanted to go."
He's whining now.
I sigh quietly, pretending to ignore him. We've already taken a bunch of pictures along the way, laughing, stopping every few steps. Eventually, we put our phones on flight mode, choosing this moment over phone calls.
Finally, we reach the cliff we came here for.
We both stop walking.
For a moment, neither of us says anything.
The mountains stretch endlessly in front of us, layered in different shades, beautiful and green. The wind brushes against my skin, cold but also gentle. Nature is beautiful.
"Look how beautiful these mountains are," I whisper softly, almost afraid to disturb the moment.
I turn to him with a small smile.
"Let's sit down, baby. I know you're tired," I tease gently.
He grunts in response, pretending to be annoyed, but I see the smile he's trying to hide.
We sit down on the grass, side by side, close enough that our shoulders touch. He doesn't let go of my hand.
We just sit there, quiet and admiring the scenery.
I couldn't come with Ntobe and the whole Selepe family to places like this. My mother had to cancel for me, telling them that I was busy helping her at church for the soup kitchen on Saturday. My mom has this wild theory that I shouldn't be too close to Ntobe and Letsatsi, because men are stupid and I might "tempt" him and end up having an affair with my sister's husband.
Honestly, that is really stupid.
I see Letsatsi as my older brother, nothing more. And he sees me as his younger sister, the one who always needs saving. That's it. There is nothing weird between us. Just respect. Just family. But because of my mother's fears, I couldn't go on their trip. Even when I visited her in the last few days, she was the one who said no, that I shouldn't go to Sekhukhune to see them.
Letsatsi and the male cousins treat me like an in-law should be treated. Nothing like I want you as my wife or be my girlfriend. Just polite respect. Simple. My mother really needs Jesus.
"We should do this often," Mnotho says gently, pulling me closer to his chest. "Maybe every three months, we go on vacation."
I've concluded that this man's love language is physical touch.
"Yes, that would be nice," I say softly, agreeing with him. "I really had a good time here." Even though, honestly, we spent most of our time indoors.
"Me too," he says. "Next time, you choose the place, and I'll organise everything." I feel him kiss my forehead. "I wish we added more days. We didn't even explore the whole place."
This place is definitely better to visit during spring or summer, but I'm sure it would be very full then.
Adding more days would've messed up our schedules anyway.
"I know," I say softly, "but I need to get back to work and you too. Just because I'm dating a shareholder doesn't mean I can do whatever I want."
We haven't really talked about the shareholder situation. I never brought it up properly.
He sighs deeply, still holding me.
"I should ask Brian if he's running a medical centre or a gossip club," he says, clearly annoyed.
I know I might have acted cold towards him, in the beginning, but he should've told me. I even forgot that Brian's place is called a medical centre, we still call it a clinic because that's how it started. Zola once told me that construction is resuming and that it's going to be bigger now.
But gossip is unavoidable, especially in workplaces. People talk. That's human nature.
It reminds me of the time I worked with Nomsa, Sphephelo's mother. I was the main topic there. People knew I was Nomsa's future daughter-in-law and believed I was getting special treatment, which wasn't true at all. But once people put you in their little box, the truth no longer matters.
Things changed when Sphephelo started wandering, flirting, and eventually dating one of the interns. I had to quit. I couldn't handle the humiliation or the laughter behind my back.
"You should have told me, baby," I say gently, trying to calm the tension. I can feel his heavy breathing.
"I didn't think it was that important," he says.
That important?
"It is important," I reply calmly. "You're part of the board of that clinic. I'm not saying I'm angry, but you should've been upfront with me."
All I knew was that he was a supplier, not a shareholder.
"I know I should have told you, but I didn't think it was going to be an issue," he says, trying to calm me down. Maybe I should drop this shareholder conversation.
"I don't even know why you're worrying this much. It's not like you'll be working for Brian forever. You should go and achieve your dreams too," he adds gently, placing multiple soft kisses on my forehead.
I know that, and I know he's trying to support me to help me pursue culinary school but I've been burnt before, and the thought of going back terrifies me. This corner I'm in feels safe, and that safety matters to me.
"Please… let's not bring up the culinary issue again, baby," I beg softly, my voice barely above a whisper.
He sighs, pulling me slightly closer, tighter. "Just think about it, that's all I'm asking, Peaches. And I promise you, I won't go chasing after that man or his messed-up family," he says, half-promise, half-threat, yet his voice carries gentleness too.
I hope he doesn't. That family is not normal. They are too dangerous. I lost my father because of them. I know it was them who pushed him on those blood-stained stairs.
On his last day on earth, he apologised to me. He apologised about money, about many things, including not protecting me from Sphephelo. He told me he was sorry for failing me as a father. The following day, the doctor called my mother and told her that my dad had died of a heart attack.
I know, deep down, that if my mother ever knew I was the cause of that stress, she would lose it. Or worse, she wouldn't believe me at all, because she blindly loves Sphephelo. To her, he can do no wrong.
I sigh softly, the weight of old pain sitting heavy on my shoulders. I will think about Mnotho's offer properly. Carefully and Slowly.
Then I'll get back to him.
His breathing is normal. Not wheezing or asthmatic.
It makes me think about the other night.
"You don't have issues with your lungs or chest?" I ask curiously.
"Lungs? No… why?" he asks, confused, gently pulling me out of his embrace so he can look at me properly.
He's frowning now.
"I needed to be sure. Or any heart issues?" I ask quietly. "You almost died the other night, Mnotho."
Just saying it makes my heart sink again. The fear and the panic. The helplessness I felt.
He opens his mouth, then closes it.
"I need to know," I continue, my voice trembling slightly. "What if something happened? What if you died? And your family blamed me for your death?"
My mind spirals.
"I'd be arrested by now. Sugar baby killed her sugar daddy," I blurt out bitterly. Lord.
His face changes.
From confused… to cold.
Now he understands how serious this is for me.
"Arrested? Hell no," he says, his voice hardens, almost offended.
He shakes his head.
"And no. I don't have heart issues. Or lung issues," he adds firmly.
I squint my eyes at him, studying his face, not fully convinced.
"I told you," he continues, his tone changing, softening now. "I was… overwhelmed. Everything hit me at once. Every emotion came rushing in, and I had a panic attack," he says quietly, his voice low and honest.
Then his lips curve slightly, that familiar gentle smile appearing.
"You were just… too beautiful," he adds softly.
I sigh, my shoulders relaxing a little, even though my heart still feels uneasy.
Maybe I should tone things down next time with the freakiness. He's just a 44-year-old man, after all.
"Oh, but for us… for me… just to be safe," I say carefully, "we'll keep our bedroom action simple."
He frowns deeply, blinking at me.
"And I was even thinking of adding a dance pole in your bedroom," I continue honestly, "but I see now it's not safe at all."
His bedroom is huge. A pole would have been perfect. And locked doors, of course.
"Haah, no! No! I'm fine. We're safe," he says loudly, clearly not impressed by my conclusion.
"I won't ever have a panic attack. We will add a dance pole for you," he adds quickly, eyes wide and serious.
I chuckle softly.
"Mnotho, we are.."
He shakes his head, cutting me off.
"No. We are okay. I am okay," he says firmly. "I won't have a panic attack. I promise."
He shakes his head, cutting me off.
I press my lips together, holding back a laugh. His reaction is too serious for someone who claims he's fine.
I tilt my head slightly, my fingers sliding up to his beard, rubbing it slowly, deliberately.
"Or…" I say softly, my voice dropping, teasing. "We could have a room where I tie you to a chair again, add a pole, and dance for you."
His eyes widen instantly.
"That was actually part of the plan for our trip," I continue, pretending to pout. "But your fragile heart had to ruin the moment for us."
I lean closer, my breath brushing his lips.
"Maybe a basement," I whisper. "Where no one will hear us… or hear you screaming my name."
He freezes.
"Nikky," he says sharply, his voice breaking just a little. "You're trying to kill me."
I smile innocently, my thumb brushing his jaw.
"I'm just making sure your heart still works," I murmur. "For medical reasons."
He exhales hard, shaking his head again, but this time he's smiling, his body going stiff under my touch.
"Hey… hey," he warns, but his voice betrays him. It's lower now. "You're playing a dangerous game."
I smile innocently, still rubbing his beard, my thumb slow, gentle.
"Dangerous?" I whisper. "You were the one who said you're okay now."
He swallows, his hands coming to my waist like he needs to calm himself.
"I said I'm okay," he repeats, softer this time. "Not that I'm… immune to you."
That makes me grin. I lean closer, my forehead brushing his.
"Good," I murmur. "Because I don't plan on going easy on you."
He lets out a breathy laugh, half nervous, half defeated.
"You enjoy torturing me," he says, shaking his head again.
"Mmh," I hum, kissing the corner of his mouth, slow and teasing. "I enjoy you."
He closes his eyes for a second, resting his forehead against mine.
"You're going to be the death of me," he mutters.
I chuckle softly, satisfied, and pull back just enough to look at him.
"Relax," I say sweetly. "I'll keep your heart safe… while I ruin your self-control."
He smiles, his hand coming up to my cheek, warm and gentle. "We should go back to the lodge," he whispers. "Your cheeks are cold."
Of course he would want to retreat. I almost laugh. But he's right. I am cold, and we're sitting on a cliff. One wrong step, one careless move, and this beautiful moment could turn into a nightmare.
I nod softly. "Yeah," I say quietly. "Let's go back. I don't want us falling off a cliff because I distracted you too much."
He chuckles under his breath, leaning in to press a soft kiss to my forehead. "See?" he murmurs. "You're already trying to kill me."
I smile, standing up carefully and holding his hand again. "Please," I tease lightly. "I'm the responsible one today."

__

"By the way, your nephew had a suggestion for us," he says, laughing softly.
He jokes too much. Him, Bonga, and Mtho, honestly. Mtho is my age mate, or maybe even older than me, yet he still calls him my nephew, and Mtho calls me Malumekazi like it's normal.
"What is it?" I ask, curious.
"He wants to be our driver… or your driver when I'm not available," he starts.
My driver?
"I can get him a position at the company as a driver," he continues gently, "but I needed to ask you first. Would you be okay with that? If he becomes our driver?"
There's hesitation in his voice. Worry too.
I sigh softly. He can't see my face because we're tangled together on the fluffy sofa bed near the fireplace. We haven't even used the bedroom since we arrived, this spot has become ours.
Mtho, I don't really have a problem with him. He's just intimidating. Quiet, Reserved. Very different from Bonga, who talks a lot and jokes all the time.
"I know… with his past issues, this might be hard for you," he adds softly.
Hard for me?
I don't judge him for his past. If anything, I believe he deserves a second chance.
"I just need someone I can trust to drive you when I'm not around," he says, pressing a soft kiss to my neck.
That part makes sense. I know this man will never allow me to use public transport.
"It's okay," I say gently. "I don't see a problem. He can be our driver."
He relaxes slightly.
I think Mtho is also scared, scared of being judged, scared of being rejected, and scared of being reminded that he was once a drug addict. Poor thing.
Now I just need to figure out how to build a relationship with him. I already have a beautiful relationship with Bonga, and I don't want Mtho to feel left out. Look at me, thinking about this like they are children or teenagers.
"By the way, my brother knows about you," he says softly, pulling me even closer. If it were up to this man, he would make sure we are glued together forever.
"Bangizwe?" I ask.
"Yes. I didn't tell him much detail, but he knows about you," he says quietly.
My heart starts pounding. I already have a feeling, a gut feeling that his siblings, maybe even his whole family, won't accept me.
"I see… I'm kind of scared though," I admit, my voice low. "What if they don't accept me? I know I said I only care about Bonga's acceptance since he's your son, but your siblings are also important to you."
"They will accept you," he says softly, pressing a kiss to my cheek. "And if they don't, they can throw themselves in the ocean," he adds without shame.
I sigh silently. He says it so casually, like he would really watch his siblings drown if it came to that.
"Just promise me you'll protect me," I say quietly. I don't even mention his family. Just protection.
"I've already said it," he replies, his voice firm. "I'll burn the whole country for you before I let anyone or anything harm you."
Yeah, that sounds scary, but it counts, I guess.
I just want us to make sure that when we leave this place tomorrow, we are ready for anything that might be thrown our way.

•••••

[ZENZELE]

His eyes slowly open as he hears men laughing and women talking softly, like whispers. He sits up carefully, feeling the grass beneath him. Looking down, he notices he's still outside. His heart skips a beat. No one brought me inside after the lightning strike? He thinks.
He stands quickly, scanning his surroundings. His home… It looks different. Very different. His heart races. What the hell is this? he thinks again, panic creeping in.
"Zenzele," a gentle voice calls from behind. He spins around and sees an older woman, maybe in her late eighties, smiling sweetly at him.
"Where am I? What's going on?" he asks, his voice filled with fear. Surprisingly, he feels no pain only a strange, overwhelming peace. "Am I… dead?" His throat tightens. He can't die. Not now, not after finally getting things right with Yibanathi. Did the lightning actually kill him?
The woman only smiles, pointing toward a large tree nearby. "Go there. They are waiting for you," she says.
Zenzele's eyes follow her gesture. Under the tree, three men sit on a bench, watching him intently.
He frowns. "Why? What's going on?" he demands, a mix of frustration and fear in his voice.
The woman walks away silently, leaving him standing alone. He huffs softly, annoyed and uneasy, and makes his way toward the tree. Truth be told, he just wants to be back in Johannesburg.
There's a strange familiarity about this place as he looks around. He can't quite pinpoint it, but it feels like home too. As he reaches the tree, he notices a large chair standing there, completely unoccupied. He stops, staring at it, then looks at the three men seated nearby.
"What's going on?" he asks, his voice firm but polite.
The man in the middle points at the chair.
"Take a seat," he says, his tone carrying quiet command.
"Why?" Zenzele asks with a shrug. "Why should I listen to you when none of you is telling me what the hell is going on?" he demands again, still trying to remain polite.
"Just sit down, Zenzele," the man in the middle repeats.
Zenzele hesitates for a moment, then slowly sits down, without further argument.
"Good," the man on the left says. "Because that is your chair. We don't understand why you keep refusing to sit on it."
Zenzele frowns deeply, blinking rapidly. He tries to stand but he can't. It's like his body is glued to the chair. That's when it hits him.
This is the throne.
The damn throne he has been running away from.
He lets out a bitter chuckle.
"You tricked me," he snaps loudly, struggling to free himself.
"We didn't," the man in the middle replies calmly.
Zenzele glares at him. "Who are you?" he asks sharply.
"That doesn't matter," the man on the left says. "We are you, and you are us. And that throne belongs to you. You can't run away from it, it will follow you wherever you go."
Zenzele huffs, shaking his head in disbelief. He can't accept this. So now he has no choice? He'll be forced to take a throne he never wanted?
"And if I say no," he asks angrily, "what happens then? You kill my son? Or me?"
"No," the man in the middle answers without shame. "You'll stay here with us until you agree."
Zenzele laughs bitterly, his chest tight.
"This is bullying," he snaps, closing his eyes as he tries to calm himself. Stuck here? Without seeing his family? No. They can't do this to him.
"Give it to my brothers," he says softly, eyes still closed. "I don't want this throne. It's cursed."
The throne demands too much. He's tired of feeding it. All he wants is peace. A normal life.
"It belongs to you," a different voice says, calmer, softly. Zenzele opens his eyes and looks at the man on the right.
"Not your brothers. Not anyone else. Yes, your father ruined this throne, stealing from the people, almost taking your son with him. His time is over. Yours is beginning."
Zenzele's breath catches.
"You know what your father took," the man continues. "And that thing wants blood. It won't rest until it gets it. One of the Zungu bloodline. Your father chose you as the sacrificial lamb."
Zenzele blinks, confused. Him? Not his son?
"Me? Why me?" he asks, his voice tight with disbelief.
"Yes, you. You think after him sacrificing your son, you were going to be normal again? Knowing what happened to him? You would have killed yourself too," the man on the right says.
Zenzele leans back in the chair as the man's words sink in. He knows he's right. He was never going to be normal if he had helped his father to kill Celo. And knowing how much that would have crushed Yibanathi, his heart aches. He wasn't ready to handle that kind of pain.
He closes his eyes again, exhausted. Why should he be the one to fix all his father's mess? Why him? He didn't send his father to steal, to kill people from the village, or to take their luck. And yet, he's the one suffering for his father's sins now.
Such a heavy burden placed on him. If, a big if, he decides to accept this throne, everything must be done his way. No one else.
He looks at the three men, his gaze hard and unyielding.
"If I accept this throne, it will be my way. My way only. I will marry the woman I love, only her. No polygamy nonsense. I will choose a man to be my spiritual advisor, to help me cleanse the whole royal place. None of you will have a say in any decision I take. You will support me, as you did Phunyuka. And don't worry, I won't stain your bloodlines by killing people," Zenzele says firmly, his voice steady, leaving no room for argument.
The men remain silent, watching him carefully.
"Do we have a deal?" he asks, eyes piercing theirs, waiting for their response.

••••

[DIAMOND]

Tumi has started following both Mehluko and Mafika. Good. I need to know everything about those fools.
I couldn't push Konke too much about them. I'm scared he'll get triggered, he loved his friend too much. And that's what pisses me off the most. Mehluko didn't consider Konke as a friend and brother at all. Big mistake. I'll teach him a valuable lesson. One he'll never forget.
I need to meet up with Zola this afternoon and get her in on our plan. We need to get rid of that damn gremlin in our lives. That girl even cut her hair, just to copy Nikky. My hands are itching. I want to drive to her agency and beat the shit out of her myself.
I don't know if Nikky is coming back from their vacation today or not. It's Monday, she should be back either today or tomorrow. And when Konke is done with his tasks, I must make sure they meet as soon as possible. He needs to see her with his own eyes.
I need to know if Nikky needs cleansing or if something worse has already attached itself to her.
Konke didn't call me this morning about any weird dream or vision involving me. That's a relief. I guess we're safe for now.
Tk and Sika have been blowing up my phone about the heist. I'm still hesitating. The money is tempting, too tempting. With that kind of money, we could change everything. But the risk is high. Too high.
We could die.
Those livestock are heavily protected by armed security. That alone tells me how serious this is. How expensive they are. I keep wondering how Tk even stumbled upon something like this. It feels wrong. Suspicious.
I grab my phone from the table and start typing a message to Sbo, asking him how Tk found out about this in the first place. Could this be a trap?
Knowing Sboniso, he won't reply now. He never does. He'll take his time, like he always does, while my mind runs in circles.
I notice Chris making his way toward my desk, smiling. Weird. This man is usually forever grumpy.
"Ma'am," he says. Ma'am? I frown slightly.
"Sir," I reply softly, my voice filled with disbelief.
He smiles.
"There's someone important here to see you," he says, blinking. Someone important? I'm confused.
"Who?" I ask, already standing up.
"He said he knows you. I hope you make a good impression, Diamond. He's part of the big business tycoons," he adds. I blink rapidly, shaking my head slowly. Who the hell is that?
"Where is he?" I ask, grabbing my phone and notepad.
"Boardroom. He's waiting," Chris says, already shushing me. This man must be very important if Chris is smiling ear to ear.
.
.
.
.
.
Nicole went to court, so I couldn't ask her who this person in the boardroom is, someone who specifically asked for me.
As I reach the door, I bump into the tea lady. She smiles and nods at me. I nod back and walk in.
I pause the moment I see him.
Mnotho.
He is the important person?
I close the door quietly, walk toward the table, pull out a chair, and sit across from him.
"Sister-in-law," he says softly, chuckling.
I guess Nikky is back. That's a relief.
"Well, I wasn't expecting you when they said someone important," I say carefully. And what is he doing here? Is Nikky okay?
"I am an important person, Diamond," he says cockily. He hasn't even touched his tea.
"What's going on? Is Nikky okay? Why are you here?" I ask, my voice fierce now.
He smiles or maybe it's a smug look. I can't tell.
"Don't worry. Nikky is okay. Actually, she's good. Very good," he says happily.
I frown.
"Then what are you doing here if Nikky is okay?" I ask, confused.
He sighs heavily and leans closer. This doesn't feel like he needs some legal advice.
"I'm here to talk about Paul," he says, his voice suddenly serious.
I blink rapidly. That's exactly what I was planning to ask him about. I lean closer too.
"Did you deal with him?" I whisper.
He just looks at me for a moment and smiles.
I gasp.
"We're not here to talk about that," he says calmly. "I want to know how Paul knew that Nikky is allergic to seafood."
His voice turns cold.
I frown and lean back.
"Paul didn't know that," I say quickly. I never told that fool anything about Nikky's allergies.
"Seems like he did," Mnotho replies, holding my gaze. "When I went to rescue Nikky, we found seafood takeaways."
"Mnotho, I would never put Nikky's life in danger," I say firmly. "And only a handful of us know about her allergies. None of those people kidnapped her."
He frowns deeply.
"Well, I'm not sure anymore," he says slowly. "Or maybe Paul worked with Nikky's fiancé."
My brows shoot up. Nikky told him about Sphephelo?
"So I'm here to ask you about this fiancé," Mnotho continues, his tone intimidating now. "I want to know everything about him."
I gasp.
"Why?" I lean closer and whisper. "So you can deal with him like you did to Paul?"
He stays quiet for a moment… then nods.
Thixo.
Nikky is dating a demon.
And Paul didn't know Sphephelo.
"You're reaching now, Mnotho," I say, my voice filled with disbelief.
He frowns, his face still cold, unreadable.
"Maybe I am," he says calmly. "But it looks like Nikky's circle is a problem. If someone who knew nothing about her seafood allergy managed to find out so easily, then it means Nikky is not safe. And I can't have that."
Haibo. Are we suspects now? Again?
"And anyone in Nikky's circle who threatens her life will be dealt with," he continues, his voice colder than before. "It doesn't matter who they are to her. Family, Friends. Colleagues. I'll deal with them."
My mouth falls open.
This man is serious. Deadly serious.
"So, madam," he says, leaning back slightly, his eyes fixed on me, cold and intimidating. "Tell me more about Nikky's ex‑fiancé."
I swallow hard.
Jesus Christ.