The memo went out on a Thursday morning.
Subject: Internal Restructuring – Brandfair Advertising
From: Regional Director
One line made my heart stop.
“Effective immediately, Mr. Bako has been reassigned to the training division in Abuja.”
It didn’t say demoted. But everyone knew.
There were murmurs around the office, eyes darting to me, quickly looking away. No one said it out loud, but it was clear I had survived the system. And left a crack in the ceiling.
By afternoon, I was called into the director’s office.
“Your boldness got our attention,” she said. “We’re creating a new Innovation Strategy Unit. And I’d like you to lead it.”
Just like that.
No begging. No extra pitch decks. No fighting for a seat. It was mine.
I said yes, calmly. But inside, a younger version of me, the one who stayed late and kept quiet, was screaming in joy.
That weekend, Obi took me to a small art café in Ikoyi. As we sipped coffee, he raised a brow.
“So. Boss lady now?”
“Something like that.”
He grinned. “I hope you remember me when you start building that empire.”
I looked at him.
“You’re part of it.”
For the first time, I could breathe. Not because I had arrived, but because I had taken the long road and refused to shrink.
The truth is, the glass ceiling never disappears. It just moves higher.
But now I know how to climb. And more importantly, how to lift others as I do.
Because power is best used not for revenge but for redirection.
My name is Chiamaka.
And this is just the beginning.