Dark Bonds

I sat in my room, my headphones hanging loosely around my neck. Across from me stood the giant piano by my bedside, and I was carefully pressing the keys, trying to mimic the tune resounding through the headphones. Each time I pressed the wrong key, I grimaced. But when I got it right, I glowed with fleeting satisfaction.

Still, I couldn't concentrate. I was angry—really angry. Not that it mattered. My emotions spilled into the music I played, turning the room into a violent cacophony of discordant notes.

Honestly, it wouldn't have been this bad if not for the mountain of nerve-racking things I had to deal with. For starters, school was a nightmare. Waking up earlier than usual to drag around a bunch of clueless newbies wasn't exactly my idea of fun.

And then there was the school head. She haunted my thoughts, her voice echoing in my nightmares. Unlike normal school heads who might politely request volunteers for menial tasks, she preferred blackmail. It was like a game to her, as if seeing us squirm was the highlight of her day.

A sharp knock on the door broke my train of thought. I stopped playing the piano, murmured, "Activate door open," and heard the soft click as the door slid open. Standing there was Officer Bernice, her face unreadable but her twitching eyes revealing how much she hated my musical experiment.

"Your dad told me to remind you that you're supposed to visit your grandma soon," she said, her tone curt. "He's waiting downstairs."

I nodded silently and closed the door. A flood of dread washed over me as I realized I'd completely forgotten about it. Not that I could be blamed, given how cluttered my mind felt. Begrudgingly, I prepared for the visit—showered, dressed in my favorite velvet top and designer trousers, slipped on black leather boots, and brushed my long jet-black hair until it fell neatly down my back.

As I caught my reflection in the mirror, my thoughts drifted to my cousins, especially Maxwell, the eight-year-old who had conned me out of a thousand dollars last summer. I never told anyone. How could I? I'd never live it down.

A second knock interrupted my brooding. This time, it was Dad, grinning from ear to ear. "What's so funny?" I asked, frowning.

"You look cute when you're mad," he said, laughing.

"Great," I muttered. "Even my anger gets turned into a joke."

Dad chuckled, draping an arm around my shoulders. "If you're feeling that frustrated, maybe I can install a punching bag in the game room," he offered, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

I smirked. "No thanks. I'd prefer one of those dolls that screams and bleeds when you hit it. Very therapeutic."

Dad's smile faltered. "You know," he said cautiously, "we could always go talk to the doctor—"

"You mean a shrink?" I snapped.

"Doctor," he repeated, sidestepping my glare.

"Psychologist," I insisted, narrowing my eyes.

Dad raised his hands in mock surrender. "Fine, fine. Psychologist."

With a scoff, I followed him downstairs, where our convoy waited. After the typical drill of passing through three military gates and waving at dozens of saluting soldiers, we finally reached the Phoenix mansion. It was as grand as ever, with its fiery-colored walls and sprawling flower gardens shaped into elaborate hedges.

The moment we stepped out of the car, Uncle Mike and Aunt Aggy greeted us warmly at the door. Uncle Mike pulled me into a tight hug. "My God, Ada, you've grown so much! What are they feeding you?"

"I'm still shorter than you, so don't get too excited," I retorted.

Aunt Aggy laughed, guiding me inside while Dad and Uncle exchanged tense looks behind us. I noted the chilly silence between them, a sharp contrast to the usual playful banter they shared.

As we reached the living room, I plopped onto a cushion, sighing loudly. "So tired," I muttered.

"What's been tiring you, honey?" Aunt Aggy asked, her voice filled with concern.

"School, piano practice, and then there's Dad." I shot a sideways glance at him. "He keeps going on and on about missing you guys. It's exhausting."

Uncle Mike finally broke his silence, raising an eyebrow at Dad. Dad's cheeks flushed red, and I bit back a grin. Mission accomplished.

Before I could enjoy Dad's discomfort any longer, my twin cousins, Maxwell and Ikenna, bounded into the room. Maxwell, ever the troublemaker, smirked as he spotted me. "Good evening, old lady," he quipped, earning a sharp glare from me.

"Good evening, big sister," Ikenna chimed in, ever the sweet one.

Maxwell rolled his eyes. "She's too desperate for attention."

I clenched my fists, swallowing the urge to respond. But when Chioma walked in—my same-aged cousin and eternal rival—I knew my patience would be tested.

"You missed my birthday," Chioma accused, crossing her arms.

I sighed. "I couldn't make it."

"Couldn't make it?" she shot back. "You chose to watch some random kid play golf instead of showing up!"

"She wasn't random!" I yelled. "She was crying, and I couldn't just leave her!"

Our argument escalated, drawing laughter from the adults, who were clearly enjoying the drama. Chioma finally stormed off, and I collapsed back onto the cushion, exhausted.

"Why don't we move on to the family meeting?" Grandma's authoritative voice cut through the room. She entered, regal as ever, and handed me a box containing a glittering green diamond necklace. "This is for you," she said.

"Thanks, Granny," I whispered, clutching it tightly.

"Good," she replied. "Now let's talk business."

The room fell silent as everyone took their seats, ready for another intense session of Granny's infamous board meetings.

Every month, granny has the entire family assemble to what she calls a board meeting, which is majorly characterized with her bringing up the ideas and us nodding away and telling her how great of a genius she was. Our family owned diamond mines in forty two countries around the world, and granny stood as the governess of the company with her calling all the shots. The main board was characterized by individuals who headed those mines in each of those countries, and she usually called our family together to talk about the ideas she wanted to implement before she submitted it to the board. It was known that at some point I will be the one to take her place, and I think that's probably why she made up this meeting in the first place, so that I could learn how to manage the family business.

But I always had this weird feeling that the moment I stood in her place I might just head our business to bankruptcy.

"With everyone gathered here, let the meeting begin," Granny's said out loud.

Granny's commanding voice echoed through the room, instantly silencing the chatter and drawing all eyes toward her. The tension in the air was palpable, but I was used to it by now. The whole family had this way of switching from casual to business mode the moment Granny made an entrance. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, still holding the green diamond necklace.

Granny cleared her throat, and the weight of her gaze fell upon me, as if she were waiting for something.

"Adanna," she said, her tone sharp. "I trust you've been paying attention to the workings of the business. I want to hear your thoughts."

I gulped. I had been preparing for this moment for a while, but the pressure of being in the family business was heavier than I anticipated. I stood up, the necklace now feeling like a literal weight around my neck.

"Yes, Granny," I said, forcing the words out. "I've been going over the plans and thinking about the expansion opportunities. I believe that, with the current market trends, we could diversify our holdings into more sustainable ventures, especially in the tech and energy sectors."

Granny's eyes didn't soften, but she nodded, as if testing me. The rest of the family remained silent, watching me like hawks, especially that hussy Chioma, who looked gladdened that I had been used as a scapegoat. I continued.

"Not only would this keep us ahead of the curve, but it would also ensure that the mines are more future-proof, given the potential for environmental regulations tightening around mining in the coming years. We could focus on automation to increase efficiency, while also setting up a sustainable division that could attract investors looking for socially responsible portfolios."

I glanced around the room, hoping my words made sense. My heart raced, but I didn't dare show it. Granny didn't look satisfied yet.

"You're talking about diversification, Ada, but what of the core business? Do you think we should just abandon our roots?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

I hesitated. "No, Granny, I don't mean abandon it. The mines are our foundation, but we should adapt to the changing world. We need to balance tradition with innovation."

There was a long silence as Granny's gaze lingered on me, studying me. Finally, she spoke, her voice slow and deliberate.

"Your ideas are bold, Ada," she said. "But bold ideas need results. The mines don't run themselves. You'll have to prove yourself before I even consider passing the torch."

I nodded, feeling the weight of her words.

Everyone in the room could tell that this was more than just a meeting to discuss business—it was a test. I had just stepped into a bigger role in the family, and failure was not an option.

"Now," Granny continued, turning her attention to the rest of the family, "Let's get down to the specifics of what each of you has contributed this month. Mike, I expect a report on the local operations."

Uncle Mike straightened up, his face losing the relaxed expression he'd worn earlier. The mood shifted again as the meeting delved into specifics. I leaned back in my chair, trying to focus, but my thoughts kept drifting to the constant strain of being pulled in so many directions. School, family, expectations—everything felt like it was stacking up in a way I wasn't sure I could handle.

And then there was Maxwell.

Every time I thought about that kid, I felt the anger bubbling up again, just waiting for an excuse to explode.

When Granny finally finished with the business at hand, I felt a sense of relief wash over me. The family began to disperse, talking in small groups, and I stood up to leave.

"Adanna," Granny's voice stopped me as I reached the door.

I turned back, meeting her gaze again. "Yes, Granny?"

She gave me a long, thoughtful look.

"Remember, you may be the future of this family business, but you must learn to master your emotions. That will determine whether or not you can truly lead."

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I nodded silently, unsure of how to respond.

As I walked out of the room, I felt a sense of both dread and determination. Tomorrow, I would face another battle. But today, I had survived.

What a relief, I think I need a cup of soda.