The elevator ride down was quiet.
Not awkward quiet — more like the kind where both people were lost in thought, letting the weight of the day settle in their bones.
Jason hadn't said a word since they left his office. His gaze was distant, jaw set like he was still standing in front of that desk, staring out the window, running through every possibility in his head.
Steven glanced at him but didn't speak. He knew better than to push.
The car was already waiting when they stepped out into the private underground garage. Steven handed Jason the keys without a word and moved to the passenger seat this time.
Jason raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"
"You've been gone ten years," Steven said, buckling up. "Let's see if you still remember how to drive."
Jason gave a low chuckle, stepped in, and started the ignition.
The engine purred to life.
They pulled out of the lot and merged onto the main road, weaving through evening traffic as the city buzzed around them. The buildings of central Accra gleamed in the golden hour light — tall, modern, busy. It didn't take long before the roads grew quieter, neighborhoods calmer.
Eventually they arrived at a gated compound tucked away just outside Airport Residential Area. The guards at the front didn't even ask questions. One nod from Steven was all it took for the steel gate to slide open.
The house was modest by Orion Surveillance's standards — a low-profile, modern two-storey home with a wide front porch, shaded windows, and a small garden already lit by motion-sensitive lights.
Jason parked the car and stepped out, stretching slightly as the breeze picked up.
"This place belongs to the company?" he asked, pulling his bag from the backseat.
Steven nodded. "Technically. Safehouse. Quiet, clean, not on any public registry. Just for short-term stays like this."
Jason followed him inside, flicking on the lights as they walked in. The interior was calm — beige walls, soft lighting, and the scent of freshly cleaned linen in the air. The kitchen, dining space, and living room blended into one open-plan layout, with stairs leading up to the bedrooms.
Jason slumped onto one of the couches and let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
It had been a long day.
Steven set both their bags down, then headed toward the fridge.
"Want anything?" he called out.
"Just water," Jason replied. "And maybe something to knock me out cold for the next twelve hours."
Steven chuckled under his breath, handing him a cold bottle before sitting across from him.
"So," he said, cracking open his own drink. "First impression?"
Jason sipped the water, then leaned his head back against the couch.
"I don't know," he admitted. "The building's impressive. Everyone we met seemed competent. I'm still wrapping my head around the fact that I apparently own all of it."
"And that's just one branch," Steven said with a smile. "The West African division. You haven't even seen the bigger picture yet."
"Lets not forget about the rest of the conglomerate"
Jason exhaled slowly.
"Feels like I came back to a life I didn't build. Just inherited it like a hand-me-down jacket."
Steven gave him a look. "Maybe. But it fits, doesn't it?"
Jason didn't answer right away.
"I'm not sure yet," he said finally. "But I guess I'll find out."
Steven nodded, finishing the last sip of his drink. Then he reached for the black tablet tucked into the side of his bag, tapped the screen, and passed it to Jason.
"What's this?"
"Orientation," Steven replied simply. "Since you now technically outrank every single executive on the continent, I figured it's time you saw the bigger picture."
Jason's eyes narrowed as the screen lit up, displaying a sleek interface with the company's logo at the top — Orion Holdings Global. A map pulsed into view, glowing with activity points scattered across continents.
Underneath the main logo were seven smaller symbols. Jason tapped one.
"Orion Surveillance… that's the one I've seen so far."
He tapped another.
"Orion Infrastructure Development?"
"Helps build roads, secure water access, even deploy solar grids in rural areas," Steven said. "Primarily in places where governments are slow, and people can't wait."
Another.
"Orion Medical?"
"Cutting-edge diagnostics, mobile clinics, discreet research partnerships. You fund several labs doing everything from genetic disease mapping to vaccine development."
Jason blinked. "You mean I fund healthcare?"
"You fund impact," Steven said, matter-of-factly. "We don't do charity. We do sustainability."
He kept scrolling. One tab revealed a joint venture with global AI ethics boards. Another detailed discreet disaster relief and food logistics across parts of Asia. There was even one division—Orion Education Access—building remote learning platforms in under-connected regions.
Jason just stared, silent.
Steven leaned forward, voice steady. "It's not just cameras and firewalls anymore, Jason. It started with surveillance. But what you inherited… is a machine. One that touches lives everywhere. Quietly. Efficiently. Without asking for applause."
Jason ran a hand through his hair.
"How the hell did I end up as the owner of all this?"
"You earned it," Steven replied. "You just don't remember most of it yet."
Jason set the tablet down, eyes distant again. His voice was quieter this time.
"I just wanted to get through school… maybe pass my exams. Not build an empire."
Steven shrugged lightly. "Empires don't care if you're ready. They just wait for someone capable."
Jason let that settle in the air. Then, with a sigh, he pushed himself off the couch and stretched.
"I need a shower," he muttered.
"There's one upstairs," Steven said, standing. "First door on the left. Your room's opposite. I already brought your bags up."
Jason paused halfway toward the stairs. "Hey Steven?"
"Yeah?"
"…Thanks. For not dumping all this on me at once."
Steven gave him a small smile. "You're welcome. But don't get too comfortable. Tomorrow's logistics, comms, and maybe a peek into our drone coordination center."
Jason groaned as he made his way upstairs. "I didn't even get a vacation."
"No," Steven said, picking up their empty bottles. "You got something better. Purpose."
———————————— b
The smell of eggs and onions was the first thing to pull Jason from sleep.
For a moment, he lay in bed, blinking against the early light spilling in from the half-drawn blinds. The mattress beneath him was firmer than what he was used to at home, but not uncomfortable. His eyes adjusted to the unfamiliar room — beige walls, a wardrobe on the far end, his bag tossed carelessly on a chair.
Then the clatter of a pan snapped him fully awake.
He rubbed his eyes, stretched, and slowly dragged himself out of bed.
The hall outside was quiet, save for the occasional shuffle of feet or the muted sound of a cupboard opening. As Jason descended the stairs barefoot, the scent of breakfast grew stronger — garlic, pepper, frying plantains.
He turned the corner into the kitchen.
His mom was already at the stove, her hair wrapped in a simple scarf, still in her loose T-shirt and shorts. A pot of oats simmered gently beside a tray of golden-brown plantain slices. Steven stood off to the side, pouring water into a flask with military precision.
"Morning," Jason mumbled, running a hand through his bedhead.
"Hey," his mom said without looking, reaching for a spatula. "You slept deep, huh? I checked in at seven. You didn't even flinch."
"I needed it," Jason said, stifling a yawn. "I think my soul's still catching up."
"Good," Steven added, placing three plates on the table. "You've got a long day ahead."
Jason slid into a chair, resting his arms on the cool surface. "Let's not talk about that yet. Let me pretend I'm a normal kid eating breakfast with his mom."
His mom chuckled, grabbing a ladle. "Normal kids don't have men in suits following them around and unlocking gated compounds."
Jason gave Steven a look. "Why are you always overdressed?"
"Brand consistency," Steven said, deadpan.
Jason laughed. "You're not a brand. You're a person."
"I'm whatever your mother needs me to be," Steven replied smoothly, earning a raised eyebrow from her.
Jason blinked. "That sounded suspicious."
"It was," she said, handing Jason a plate.
He gave her a grin. "Thanks, Ma."
As they all sat down — Jason with his plantains and egg stew, his mom with oats and milk, and Steven sipping black coffee like it was a life force — the silence was surprisingly… peaceful. Familiar, even.
For a while, they just ate.
Then Jason broke it.
"I almost waited for you before I started eating last night," he said, turning to his mom. "But Uncle Steven waved the rice under my nose and my soul left my body."
She snorted. "So you gave in to temptation?"
"I fought hard for about five seconds."
Steven didn't say anything, but the smug expression on his face spoke volumes.
Jason sipped his water. "By the way, what time are we heading out?"
"Ten," Steven said. "The drone coordination center and the rural infrastructure team are expecting us by eleven."
His mom perked up. "Is that in the same place as yesterday?"
"No," Steven replied. "Separate facility, a few minutes outside city center. Less showy, more boots-on-the-ground."
Jason glanced at his mom. "You working today?"
She shook her head. "Remote meetings in the afternoon. I'll be here."
He nodded, then finished the last bite of his food and leaned back, satisfied.
It was quiet again. But this time, it wasn't heavy. Just… calm. Like the eye of a storm.
Jason looked at Steven.
"You still haven't told me the plan for lunch."
Steven raised an eyebrow. "Are you giving executive orders now?"
"I'm giving teenager orders. They're stronger."
His mom rolled her eyes.
"Just be back in one piece," she said, rising from the table. "That's all I ask."
Jason gave a mock salute. "Yes, ma'am."
The sun had climbed higher by the time they left the compound.
The air was already warming up, and the scent of morning dew was fading under the hum of city life. Jason stepped into the passenger side this time, slumping into the seat as Steven started the engine.
"I should've had a second plate," Jason muttered, rubbing his stomach.
Steven glanced over. "You had two."
"Okay, third."
"You'd be asleep by now if you did."
Jason smirked, watching the buildings roll by as they left the residential area. The roads grew busier, but Steven cut through the traffic with practiced ease, eyes fixed ahead, one hand casually resting on the wheel.
"Where exactly are we going?" Jason asked after a few minutes.
"Agbogba," Steven said. "Not far. That's where the drone coordination center is. After that, we'll swing by the rural infrastructure support wing in Madina."
Jason tilted his head. "Sounds like two completely different departments."
"They are," Steven said. "But both fall under Orion's West African operational arm. Surveillance isn't just cameras and hackers in dark rooms — it's data gathering, logistics, and boots on the ground. The rural ops are our eyes and ears in the field. They help reinforce grid security, assist with installations, and sometimes even handle community outreach."
Jason raised an eyebrow. "Orion does outreach?"
Steven smiled faintly. "Not everything is about secrets and shadows. We build trust by showing up in places others overlook."
Jason leaned back in his seat, watching a trotro overtake them aggressively.
"So let me get this straight. The same company that negotiates billion-euro contracts with Europe also… helps connect solar panels in villages?"
Steven nodded. "And deploys medical drones, assists with school surveillance systems, provides encrypted communication lines for NGOs… That's the thing about Orion: people see us as high-level security. But the real power is in infrastructure. Data is just the surface. We protect the flow of it — and sometimes, we create it from scratch."
Jason was quiet for a second. "You talk like you built the place."
"I was there when it was being built," Steven said. "I know every wire, every fiber cable, every local partnership. I've seen this branch grow from a single rented office to this."
Jason let that sink in as the car slowed.
A low, sprawling building came into view, guarded by a single checkpoint and surrounded by manicured hedges. It didn't scream military or tech, but it didn't look normal either.
The guard at the gate recognized the car immediately and waved them through without hesitation.
Jason stepped out, taking in the sleek exterior. It wasn't glass and steel like the HQ — this was more subtle. Practical. Built for function, not flash.
Inside, the facility was already awake.
Rows of large monitors lined the walls of the main operations room, each showing drone feeds from different parts of Ghana — highways, forested areas, small towns, rivers. Operators sat at workstations with headsets on, switching views, typing rapidly, coordinating.
One of them — a young woman in an Orion polo — looked up as Steven and Jason entered.
"Welcome, sir," she said with a quick smile, standing to greet them. "I'm Dina, shift lead."
Steven gave her a polite nod. "Morning. Just here to show the young boss around."
Jason flinched slightly at the title, but nodded. "Hey."
Dina stepped aside, gesturing toward the wide overhead screens.
"These are live feeds," she explained. "Mostly security drones monitoring installations. Some are environmental, others are testing new tracking protocols. We also run delivery support — medicine drops, data packets to remote servers."
Jason's gaze locked onto a drone feed hovering over what looked like a remote clinic. A nurse stepped out, collected a small white box, then waved at the drone as it rose again and sped off.
"That's not just surveillance," he said softly. "That's… logistics. Care."
Dina nodded. "Exactly. People associate 'surveillance' with control. But sometimes, it just means seeing where help is needed — and getting there first."
Jason turned to Steven, eyes a little sharper now. "This wasn't what I expected."
Steven said nothing. He didn't need to.
They moved next to the coordination map — a massive table with small lights indicating current drone positions across the country. Jason ran a hand across the transparent surface, absorbing the scale of it all.
"Can we visit one of the rural teams?" he asked.
Steven looked at his watch. "We've got time."
The car ride to Madina was quieter, but this time it wasn't from tension — it was reflection.
Jason stared out the window as they left the city proper and dipped into less polished roads, where buildings thinned out and open space stretched wider. Traffic faded. The houses were smaller. The signboards got older, some of them half-peeled or sun-bleached. And yet, everything felt more alive.
Kids chased each other barefoot across dusty paths. A woman balanced a tray of fried yam on her head like it was weightless. The scent of charcoal fires and waakye filled the air.
"This the part where I say I've missed this?" Jason muttered.
Steven didn't look away from the road. "No one ever really leaves Ghana. Not for long."
Eventually, they pulled into a small clearing behind what looked like an unfinished school building. But closer inspection revealed a set of solar panels arranged in rows, some battered, others freshly installed. Cables ran from them into a white prefab container with the Orion logo on its side. A short, wiry man in boots and a reflective vest walked out to meet them.
"Steven?" he called, squinting through the sun.
Steven stepped out and waved. "Akwasi, it's been too long."
The man smiled wide. "If I knew you were coming, I'd have brought pito."
Jason trailed behind, feeling the crunch of dry dirt beneath his sneakers.
Akwasi gave Jason a curious glance, then offered a hand. "This the new assistant?"
"Close enough," Steven said before Jason could answer.
Jason shook his hand. "Nice to meet you."
They were led around the back, where a team of four was assembling a new antenna rig. Another group nearby was speaking with a few local elders seated under a tree, showing them how to use a tablet device.
"We rotate through districts every three weeks," Akwasi explained. "Installations, maintenance, sometimes just troubleshooting. We also teach locals how to report outages or suspicious activity via the app. That antenna?" —he pointed— "Connects the village to our secure server in Accra."
Jason raised his brows. "So Orion doesn't just set things up — it sticks around."
"We're not here to play NGO," Akwasi said. "We build systems, sure. But systems fail if no one's trained to maintain them. You want to protect a network? You make the community part of it."
Steven nudged Jason with his elbow. "Sound familiar?"
Jason looked at the scene again — workers sweating under the heat, but focused; locals watching curiously, some even helping.
He nodded slowly. "Yeah. It does."
—
They didn't stay long.
Akwasi offered them groundnuts and FanYogo before they left, and Jason didn't have the heart to say no. The man's energy was infectious. And as they drove off, Jason glanced back once — the antenna now standing tall, the solar panels gleaming in the afternoon sun.
It wasn't flashy. Wasn't something that would ever make headlines.
But it mattered.
That stuck with him.
⸻
Back in the car, Jason leaned his head against the window, the pink glow of evening already beginning to tint the sky.
"Steven," he said after a while, voice quiet. "Thanks for showing me that."
Steven didn't say anything at first.
Then, softly, "You needed to see it. Not the boardrooms. The people."
Jason nodded.
And for the first time since he'd woken up in that bed days ago, he didn't feel like this life had been thrown at him.
He felt like maybe — just maybe — it had been waiting for him