Chapter 51: Sandile’s Countermove

 

News travels fast in Johannesburg’s business circles, and even faster in Nkosi Construction. By the following morning, whispers of Sandile being served were already circling like vultures around fresh prey. I didn’t need to be in the office to know he was livid.

Through a trusted contact, I learned he had wasted no time summoning his lawyer, Mr. Ntuli, to his private office. I could almost picture the scene:

Sandile sat behind his polished mahogany desk, jaw tight, his fingers drumming against the surface. Mr. Ntuli, a sharp, calculated man with a voice as smooth as it was dangerous, flipped through the divorce papers slowly, as though weighing every word.

Sandile (slamming his hand on the desk): “This is outrageous, Ntuli! Divorce? Asset division? She thinks she can take what’s mine?”

Mr. Ntuli (calmly): “Not thinks, Mr. Nkosi. Claims. And the courts will examine those claims seriously. She has evidence both of her contributions to Nkosi Construction and of your… extracurricular activities.”

Sandile’s eyes must have burned with fury. I could imagine the vein throbbing on his temple.

Sandile: “Nkosi Construction exists because of me. My name, my vision, my leadership. Nomusa was just… assisting. She has no real claim.”

Mr. Ntuli : “With respect, that argument will not hold in court. There are records contracts she signed, emails she authored, testimonies that point to her as more than an ‘assistant.’ And the infidelity evidence… that complicates your position.”

The silence that followed must have been suffocating, thick with Sandile’s rage.

Sandile: “Then we discredit her. We paint her as unstable, bitter, incapable of running a company. If she wants war, she’ll regret it.”

Mr. Ntuli: “Now that is something we can explore. Character attacks, financial audits, even questioning her competence. But tread carefully judges do not respond well to theatrics. We must strike with precision, not brute force.”

I could see Sandile leaning back in his chair, calculating, his pride refusing to let him imagine defeat.

Sandile (coldly): “Make her feel the weight of this. Draft the response. I don’t care what it costs Nomusa will learn she can’t fight me.”

Even from afar, I could feel the storm he was preparing. This wasn’t just about divorce anymore it was about war. Sandile was a man who thrived on control, and now that control was slipping, he would lash out with everything he had.

But unlike before, I wasn’t afraid.

Nomusa (thinking): Let him plot. Let Ntuli sharpen his knives. They forget one thing I know every brick in Nkosi Construction, because I laid them myself. And when they strike, I’ll be ready.