“I’ll organize meetings with all possible investors,” he murmured.
A few days later, he heard rumors in Atlanta business circles.
“Did you hear?” an acquaintance said. “There’s a new player in town investing like crazy. Bought a mansion in Cascade, cash. Brought in a consultant from Midtown—that guy, Seek, the Cleaner.”
“What’s the name?” Quacy asked.
“Interesting. No one knows exactly. Very secretive. But the company name is old. Okafor Legacy Holdings LLC. Ring a bell?”
Quacy shook his head.
“Old-fashioned name. Probably some old money folks just realizing their assets. This is the opportunity.”
He immediately ordered his secretary to find a way to contact Okafor Legacy Holdings. He had to present his proposal for the development in South Georgia. He didn’t know that the lands he coveted were the very ones listed in Zelica’s deed.
The invitation arrived. Okafor Legacy Holdings LLC was interested in hearing the proposal from Quacy’s company. The meeting would be held at the CEO’s residence in the Cascade mansion.
“Look, Aniya, they invited me. Surely they’ve heard of my reputation,” he bragged.
That morning, he put on his most expensive suit. He rehearsed his presentation in front of the mirror. He was determined to dazzle this mysterious investor.
He arrived at the mansion. The high wrought-iron gate opened slowly. He walked into a majestic but cool foyer. The walls were marble, the furniture antique and heavy.
An assistant with a formal look received him.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Quacy. Please wait in the meeting room. Our CEO will join you shortly.”
Quacy was led to a grand library transformed into a meeting room. On one side was a very long mahogany table. On the other, tall windows overlooked a manicured garden. At the end of the table sat a man looking at his laptop—Seek.
Quacy thought he was the boss.
“Good afternoon, sir,” he said.
Seek looked up. His eyes were cold.
“I am Seeku, consultant. Sit down, Mr. Quacy. Our CEO is on the way.”
Quacy sat down. He started to feel a little nervous. The atmosphere in the room was too heavy, too silent.
Five minutes passed like an hour.
Suddenly, the double doors behind him opened. Quacy didn’t turn around. He heard the sound of footsteps—high heels.
Click, clack. Click, clack.
A firm and rhythmic sound on the marble floor.
