She would marry someone else one day.
But before that, she would be a queen.
Before that, she would sit on a golden stool.
Before that, she would walk the land of her ancestors.
And Damien would watch her.
And he would know.
This was where she belonged.
This was where they belonged.
Not in the city. Not in the penthouse. Not in the war.
Here.
In Ghana.
On the throne.
But that was later.
Much later.
Right now, they were just visiting.
Right now, they were just learning.
Right now, they were just beginning to understand.
---
The one hundred forty-fifth week, Damien and Christabel flew to Ghana.
To see the estate.
To meet the King.
To walk the land of their ancestors.
They didn't know that the journey would change everything.
They didn't know that the cracks were already forming.
They didn't know that the scandal was already waiting.
---
The plane landed at dawn.
Not a commercial flight. A private jet.
The tarmac was crowded.
Elders. Dignitaries. Reporters.
The Asantehene was there. The King.
The President of Ghana was there.
They stood side by side.
Waiting.
Damien stepped off the plane.
Christabel followed.
Lena was asleep in her arms.
The King stepped forward.
"Welcome home."
---
The ceremony was held in the palace.
Not a building. A compound.
Gold. Kente cloth. Drums.
Hundreds of people.
Christabel held Lena's hand.
Lena's eyes were wide.
"Mama, where are we?"
"We're home, baby."
"This is home?"
"One of them."
---
The King spoke.
Not in English. In Twi.
A translator stood beside him.
"Today, we welcome our children home. Children of the soil. Children of the ancestors. Children who have made us proud."
The crowd cheered.
"Damien and Christabel Moreau have shown the world that Ghanaians can rise to any height. That Ghanaians can lead. That Ghanaians can win."
He paused.
"Today, we honor them."
---
The Golden Stool was brought forward.
Not the real one. That one was sacred. Never touched. Never sat upon.
A replica. For ceremony. For honor. For them.
The King lifted it.
"This stool represents authority. Represents leadership. Represents the weight of a people."
He placed it in front of Damien.
"Kneel."
Damien knelt.
"You are no longer just a man. You are a leader. You are a king."
He placed a crown on Damien's head.
Not gold. Kente cloth. Woven. Sacred.
"Rise, King Damien."
---
The crowd cheered.
Christabel watched.
Her eyes were wet.
The King turned to her.
"Kneel."
She knelt.
"You are no longer just a woman. You are a leader. You are a queen."
He placed a crown on her head.
Kente cloth. Woven. Sacred.
"Rise, Queen Christabel."
---
The crowd erupted.
Drums. Dancing. Singing.
Lena clapped her hands.
"Mama is a queen!"
Christabel laughed.
"I'm just Mama."
"You're a queen!"
"Same thing."
"Different intention."
---
The estate was in Atwima Nwabiagya.
Not a house. A compound.
Hundreds of acres. Fields. Forests. Villages.
The King walked with them.
"This is yours now. The land. The people. The responsibility."
Damien looked at the horizon.
"We don't deserve this."
"You don't deserve anything. You earn it."
"Same thing."
"Different intention."
---
The President stepped forward.
"There's more."
"More?"
"The government has decided to gift you half of Accra."
Damien stared at him.
"Half of Accra?"
"Half of Accra. The land. The buildings. The businesses. Yours to develop. Yours to protect. Yours to lead."
"That's—"
"That's what you deserve."
---
Christabel was quiet.
Her hands were shaking.
Damien took her hand.
"What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking about the future."
"What about it?"
"One day, we could live here. Permanently. After everything."
"After what?"
"After the wars. After the scandals. After the world tries to break us."
He was quiet for a moment.
"You want to come back."
"I want to come home."
---
He pulled her into his arms.
"Then we'll come back."
"When?"
"Someday."
"Promise?"
He kissed her forehead.
"Promise."
---
That night, they sat on the terrace.
The stars were bright.
The air was warm.
Lena was asleep inside.
"This is where we belong," Christabel said.
"One day."
"One day."
"The world won't let us go easily."
"The world doesn't own us."
He looked at her.
"No. You own the world."
She smiled.
First Line of Chapter 191 (Teaser):
"The one hundred forty-sixth week, Damien and Christabel returned to America. To the penthouse. To the war. To the scandal that was already waiting. They didn't know that the worst was yet to come. They didn't know that the person who would destroy them was closer than they thought."