He had mistaken appetite for loyalty.
Bissy stepped forward despite her tears. “Madam, please. Sir is good. He did nothing to you.”
Amaka turned on her with such instant contempt that Bissy flinched as if struck.
“Shut up.”
Then she looked back at Chief Kletchi.
“You see? This is why servants should know their place.”
“Leave her out of this,” he said.
Amaka smiled thinly. “Or what? You will report me?”
“Yes.”
“To whom?” she asked. “Who will believe you?”
Before he could answer, she raised her voice.
“Guards!”
Bissy screamed, “No!”
Heavy footsteps thundered outside.
The door burst open.
Two armed guards rushed in—the very same men Bissy had warned him about.
They stopped in visible shock when they saw Chief Kletchi standing there.
“Sir,” one said. “You’re back.”
Amaka moved faster than anyone else.
“Yes, he is,” she said smoothly. “And he is unwell.”
She stepped closer to Chief Kletchi and turned to the guards with the confident authority of someone already used to being obeyed.
“Escort my husband to his bedroom. He collapsed from stress. Call the doctor.”
The doctor.
The one she controlled.
Chief Kletchi’s pulse exploded again.
“This is madness,” he said. “Let me go.”
Amaka looked at him almost tenderly.
“I can’t,” she said. “You know too much now.”
Bissy cried out, “She’s lying! She wants to kill him!”
One guard snapped, “Silence!”
Chief Kletchi pulled his shoulders back and faced them.
“These men answer to me,” he said. “I pay you.”
Amaka laughed lightly.
“You used to. I increased their pay.”
There it was again. No hesitation. No guilt. Everything reduced to leverage.
Chief Kletchi saw it all at once: money, access, fear, carefully distributed loyalty. This was not a spontaneous betrayal. This had been built. Fed. Protected. Organized.
Amaka stepped closer, close enough that only he heard her next words.
“You should have stayed on that plane,” she whispered. “Now you will die quietly.”
Bissy rushed toward him, crying his name. A guard grabbed her and shoved her back. Chief Kletchi twisted, trying to reach her, but strong hands clamped onto both his arms.
“Leave her!” he shouted.
“Take him,” Amaka ordered.
The guards dragged him out into the corridor.
Bissy struggled behind them, screaming, “Sir! Sir!”
