Òyì nke e mepụtara

The knife slides into my back before I even hear his footsteps. Warm blood spills under my suit. Expensive. Pointless. I don’t turn around. I already know who it is. Of course it’s him. The man I built from nothing. The dog I fed with my own hands. “Business isn’t personal,” he says behind me. Liar. Everything in this world is personal. My knees hit the marble floor. Cold. Like the boardroom where they voted me out. Like the eyes that watched me fall. I laugh. Not because it’s fu