Zarki sat behind his wide, mahogany desk, the blinds drawn just enough to let in streaks of Wamboli's midday sun. The air in his private study was still, thick with the scent of polished wood, old books, and the subtle aroma of burning incense. Across from him sat Haruni Al-Faiz, his long-trusted advisor, a man known for his cold rationality and unwavering discretion. The two had worked together for a long time, and if there was anyone who knew the true extent of Zarki's empire, it was Haruni.
Zarki leaned forward, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. "Haruni, I've made a decision," he began, his voice low, the weight of responsibility evident in every syllable. "It concerns my legacy."
Haruni's brows lifted slightly, but he remained composed. "Go on."
"I've summoned my five concubines. You know them. They've been with me for years. I've told them plainly, the first among them to bear me a child will inherit everything."
Haruni's eyes narrowed, not in judgment, but in consideration. "You intend to make this official?"
Zarki nodded. "Draft the documents. Rewrite my will if you must. This is not a threat. It's not a test. It's my final decision. My fortune, my companies, estates, all of it, will go to the mother of my child, and by extension, to the child."
The lawyer exhaled slowly, folding his hands. "And what if none of them conceives, Zarki? You're gambling everything. Do you want a clause for that?"
Zarki's jaw tensed. "No. I've considered it. I'm aware of the risk. But this empire means nothing if there's no blood to carry it on. If none of them succeeds, then perhaps it was never meant to continue. But I won't split it among them. That invites chaos. I want one heir. One successor."
Haruni nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. "Then I will prepare the documents. But understand, this decision will create tension. Competition breeds desperation, especially where power is involved."
"I expect nothing less," Zarki replied. "Let them fight. Let them show what they're willing to do to carry my name forward. That's the only kind of loyalty I can trust now."
Haruni rose, gathering his files with meticulous care. "Very well. I'll have the first draft ready in a few days. This will change everything, Zarki."
Zarki leaned back, his gaze drifting toward the curtained window. "It already has."
There will be no second chances," Zarki added. "Make it watertight. No ambiguities. If a woman claims to be pregnant, I want medical confirmation. If the child is born, there must be a paternity test. No room for lies."
Haruni looked up again. "And what if more than one child is born?"
Zarki's eyes narrowed. "Then the first. The first to breathe, to cry, to live. The law of birth. Time will decide."
Haruni nodded. "Understood. I'll draft the new Will tonight. You'll have it in the morning."
Zarki finally sat down, his body folding into the leather chair like a man releasing a weight he didn't want to carry. "Good. And Haruni, no one else is to know of this document. Not until the time is right."
"Of course," Haruni said. "My lips are sealed."
Zarki looked at the fire flickering in the hearth across the room. "Sometimes I wonder if I'm doing the right thing."
"You're doing what you believe will protect your legacy," Haruni replied. "Whether it's right or not, history will decide."
Zarki didn't respond. He just sat there, eyes fixed on the flames, his mind already racing ahead to what the coming months would bring.
And Haruni, always the quiet observer, slipped out of the study without another word, already planning the legal storm he was about to write into existence.
The fire crackled softly in the hearth, its glow casting long, flickering shadows across the polished wood of Zarki's study. Haruni had left minutes ago, but his words lingered in the room like thick smoke. Zarki remained seated, his hands still clasped in front of him, fingers interlocked tightly. The silence was heavy, broken only by the occasional creak of old wood and the distant cry of a night bird beyond the window shutters.
Zarki's mind churned. He stared into the flames, trying to find answers in their restless dance. Haruni's warning echoed again in his thoughts. "Competition breeds desperation." He knew that. He had built his empire on the backs of desperate men willing to risk everything. He had watched allies turn to enemies for less than what he was about to offer. Was he about to spark the same chaos within his own household?
He sighed and shifted in his seat, the leather groaning under his weight. Zarki had faced countless decisions over the years, mergers, acquisitions, political plays, but none had made his chest tighten quite like this. He reached for a glass of aged palm spirit from the tray at his side and took a slow sip, savoring its heat.
What if he was wrong? He leaned forward again, elbows on the desk, and rubbed his face. A dangerous decision could not be masked by conviction alone. What if none of the women bore him a child? What if more than one did? What if lies crept in through the cracks he failed to seal?
He stood, pacing slowly across the room. The study walls were lined with shelves of history books on economics, ancient kings, philosophies of legacy. A large oil painting of his father, Bakari Zarki, hung behind the desk. The old man's stern eyes watched him as if waiting for him to ask the question he had long ignored.
Zarki turned and looked up at the portrait. "If you had no heir," he said softly, "who would have taken over?"
He remembered his father's final days. A man who had built from dust, who made enemies of kings and friends of rogues. A man whose love for legacy had pushed him to groom Zarki from a young age. His father had never left anything to chance. The transition of power had been smooth, expected. But what if he hadn't been there?
Zarki walked to the window and parted the blinds slightly. Outside, the estate sprawled in silence under the silver light of the moon. He could see the roofs of the concubines' quarters. They were unaware of the storm he had just unleashed. A test. A contest. A gamble.
He turned back into the room and sat on the edge of the desk, arms crossed, thoughts racing. His empire spanned continents, employed thousands, touched millions. He couldn't leave it vulnerable. No, he had to be sure. Not just about the document, but about the logic behind it.
He whispered to himself, "This legacy isn't just about blood. It's about vision. Strength. Discipline. Who can carry this weight and not stumble?"
Still, blood mattered. Family mattered. His name had to continue. But at what cost?
He picked up his phone and stared at the screen. Midnight. He didn't care. Haruni would understand. He dialed.
It rang twice before the old advisor picked up. "Yes, Zarki?"
Zarki didn't waste time. "I've thought about what you said. You were right to question it. I don't want to make a mistake. I don't want to leave behind a civil war."
Haruni's voice was steady. "Then what do you want to do?"
"Keep the document," Zarki said. "Proceed with the Will. But add one thing. A clause."
There was a pause on the line. Then Haruni spoke. "I'm listening."
"If none of the women bears me a child within the next year, the estate goes into trust. The businesses will continue to operate, but no one takes the fortune. It will go to the community projects. Hospitals, schools, scholarships. The legacy lives, even if my blood doesn't."
Another pause. "That's wise," Haruni finally said. "And if more than one woman delivers?"
"Then the firstborn, as I said. But ensure it's documented by our own doctors. No room for deception."
"Understood." "Haruni," Zarki added, his voice lower, "I don't just want an heir. I want someone who deserves this empire. If that person doesn't come from my blood, then let the empire serve others. The people."
"I'll revise the draft immediately. You'll have it before dawn."
"Good.".Zarki ended the call and set the phone down. The fire had burned lower now, embers glowing in the dark. He felt the weight on his shoulders shift, not gone, but lighter. He had chosen a path, not perfect, but as close to right as he could manage in a world of shifting loyalties and hidden agendas.
He leaned back once more, closed his eyes, and allowed himself a moment of silence. The game had begun. But tonight, he had made peace with it.
And outside, the moon watched over Wamboli like an ancient judge, silent and all-seeing.
Zarki dozed off in his chair, his head resting gently to the side, still holding Haruni's final words in his thoughts. Peace, at last, seemed to settle over him.