North East was one of the largest branches of Christ Divine Church.
The region housed seven pastors, thirty ministers, and nearly eighty deacons and deaconesses.
Pastor Burke oversaw the region, reporting directly to the Assistant General Overseer.
Smaller branches and zones often gathered there for major programs, as North East worked closely with headquarters since it was a region.
The choir was the most distinguished department, but morale had been strained.
Their choirmaster, Alex Warren, had been struggling with irregular attendance from his top voices.
Many choir members in leadership positions now missed midweek services and Saturday rehearsals due to work.
For the first time in weeks, Saturday rehearsal was full.
Alex seized the moment after they finished practicing Sunday's songs.
Gregory Fisher and Fred Thompson served as his deputies.
They had grown through the choir from their teenage years, known for their exceptional voices but since both men had been promoted at work, their commitment had dwindled.
Alex stood before them, voice steady but charged.
"Fred Thompson! For three weeks you missed rehearsals and nonchalantly sat among the congregation with no sense of obligation! Gregory! You did the same for two weeks and now, it feels like I no longer have assistants!I remember those days you used to work with me at the warehouse, you were working and schooling but still you showed up even when no one called you! Where is that zeal? That vision you used to have? Has the world taken them away?".
Fred smirked and rose. "It was even by God's grace I came today. I work hand-in-hand with the chairman of our corporation. We're pushing to hit targets. You don't understand how demanding that is. You're just a real estate agent. Your job isn't that serious. That's why you think we aren't putting in effort. If you had my responsibilities, you'd do the same."
Alex's eyes hardened. "My job isn't serious? How dare you speak to me like that?"
Fred folded his arms. "Stop being hypersensitive. You want to compare the work of a mere realtor who survives on commissions to a regional manager?".
"Fred, stop." Martha hurried to him, voice shaking, tugging gently at his arm. "Please."
Alex faced Fred squarely. "You don't deserve a woman like Sister Martha. Pride has consumed you because you have one of the best voices in Northeast? You think God can't raise better?"
Fred scoffed. "Alex Warren, stop trying to be me. Get married and get a life."
Gregory stood. "I remember when you both were inseparable. Ever since Alex became choirmaster, the friendship died."
Fred pointed at Alex. "He became pompous the moment they gave him a title."
Alex answered, hurt showing. "What about you? You ignore my calls, leave my messages on read on Whatsapp; you don't join our prayer meetings."
Fred shrugged. "I'm busy. Unlike you, I don't survive only when I sell a house."
The room erupted.
Voices rose, members murmured, tension thickened.
Then, quietly, Martha walked to the grand piano.
She began to play.
"I Have Decided to Follow Jesus."
Silence fell.
With tears in her eyes, she spoke softly but firmly. "We used to sing this song back then when we give our lives to Christ. We promised Jesus that he will be lord over us but what is happening now? We have become lord over ourselves. We no longer allow him control the way we react. We allow our emotions, our pride, our negativity. We are slowly removing him as lord and becoming lord over ourselves and now we react anyhow we want because he is no longer lord but our emotions is now Lord over our lives. Whoever you are lord to, you control them. What controls you? Is it the lord Jesus you vowed to follow or your emotions?".
She turned to Fred. ""Even if you get promoted to the position of regional manager or general manager, if you don't have Jesus as Lord, it is nothing! Your life can be taken away against your will if you don't have Jesus as Lord! Why look down on people for things that Jesus can take away from you?".
She turned to Alex. "Remember how you started. Humble. Broken for God. Do not lose it."
Then she looked at the choir. "We are ministers! If we keep walking in flesh, how will we sing in the spirit and touch souls for the purpose of the kingdom?".
Stillness followed.
Fred lowered his gaze. "I am sorry, Alex."
Alex's voice cracked. "I am sorry too."
They embraced.
Gradually, the choir dispersed.
Later, Martha exited the pastor's office and nearly collided with Alex in the hallway.
He exhaled, uneasy.
"Thank you for today, Martha."
"It was Jesus, not me."
His expression softened thoughtfully. "Did you tell Fred our secret?"
"No. Not at all."
He searched her face. "It hasn't changed."
She nodded, then walked past him quietly.
Martha slid into the passenger seat beside Fred.
He studied her with narrowed eyes.
"Why does he always look at you like that?" he asked quietly.
She frowned. "Is that why you attacked him during the meeting? Because of your personal feelings toward him?"
"You almost dated him when we broke up. How do you expect me to like him?"
"You dated Gabriella," she replied calmly.
"Alex and I only got closer. That was all."
Fred scoffed. "Closer? He told Pastor Burke he wanted to marry you and even collected his blessing."
"So your friendship with him died because of a woman?" she asked. "That isn't right."
"Alex still likes you," Fred said firmly. "I can't be friends with a man who still wants my woman."
"You should be more worried about who your woman wants," she murmured.
Fred looked away, then started the engine. "My mother's birthday is this Saturday. She says you must come."
Martha's eyes widened. "Me? Why?"
"She wants me settled down soon."
Martha exhaled nervously. "And if she doesn't like me?"
"She will," he replied, though his tone wasn't entirely confident.
He drove her home.
After she stepped out, he pulled away.
Martha turned toward her gate and paused... her neighbor, Mrs. Whitmore, was waiting with a warm smile.
"My husband and I are attending a weekend retreat," she said. "We'd love for you to join us. We leave Friday and return Sunday evening. After you told me about losing your parents, I've been thinking… you deserve peaceful memories and good company."
Tears gathered in Martha's eyes. "Why are you being so kind to me?"
Mrs. Whitmore touched her arm gently.
"Because you still need love... and I want to be part of giving you that."
Martha embraced her.
Mrs. Whitmore wasn't just a neighbor... she was a rare kind of friend.
***
The accounting department was unusually quiet.
News traveled fast.
Gabriella's suspension email had barely landed before chairs stopped moving and whispers spread like chilled air.
Martha stood in front of her desk, files pressed against her chest.
She drew a breath, steady but firm.
"Everyone," she said, her voice calm.
"Please listen."
Heads lifted.
Even Lizzy paused mid-keystroke.
"We all heard what happened upstairs,"
Martha continued. "Gabriella's report revealed backlogs in the Hillsdale branch reconciliation, delays in audit documentation, and overstated vendor balances. And now, Dave Benson has submitted proof of altered operational cost figures attached to that report."
Someone swallowed hard.
Another adjusted their glasses.
Martha placed the files down and looked around the room, her voice controlled but resolute.
"We fix all of it. Properly. Quietly. And fast."
She pointed slightly with the documents.
"Team one... Sylvia, Ria and Tom, review every reconciliation item from Hillsdale for the last two quarters. No assumptions.Team two...Nana, Rico and Lizzy, pull every vendor file and supporting invoice. Cross-check without skipping a single line. Team three...Victor, Fabian, Loveth, Diana, Stefan, Neb, rebuild the cost ledger from scratch and compare it with what was submitted."
Lizzy folded her arms.
"And who authorized you to run this?" she asked coldly.
Martha didn't raise her voice. "As you already know, the chairman asked for stability in this department and this work needs to start now."
Lizzy's eyes twitched, but she said nothing.
"This department's credibility is on the line," Martha added quietly. "We do not allow one incident to stain everyone's name. Four-o'clock... progress updates. No delays."
A brief pause.
Then a quiet hum of movement returned as people started pulling files.
Martha sat slowly, opened the first corrupted spreadsheet, and pressed her fingers against her temple before exhaling.
She had stepped into a storm she never asked for...but she would not drown in it.
Lizzy waited until the department settled into the rhythm of shuffling files and tapping keyboards.
Then she slipped away, heels muted against the carpet as she walked toward the office at the end of the hall... Gabriella's office.
The door was half-open.
The room felt colder without its owner; chairs too still, air too stiff, the faint scent of Gabriella's perfume lingering like a memory refusing to leave.
Lizzy closed the door softly behind her.
Her eyes moved across the desk...neat, organized, untouched.
A framed photo of the accounting team at last year's retreat sat by the monitor.
Gabriella stood in the center, confident, smiling.
Lizzy stood beside her in the picture, pride bright in her face.
Her jaw tightened.
"This should not have happened," she whispered, voice trembling despite her attempt at composure. "You didn't deserve this."
She traced a finger along the back of Gabriella's chair, then gripped it suddenly.
"Martha shouldn't be sitting in your seat. Not like this. Not because they pushed you out."
Her breath hitched...part anger, part helplessness she refused to acknowledge.
But ambition was a quiet serpent, and even as the grief pricked, something else pulsed beneath: This seat is vacant now.
She shut her eyes, shaking the thought away... or pretending to.
A knock startled her.
She wiped her eyes quickly, composing herself before opening the door.
Martha stood there.
Lizzy's face hardened instantly.
"Yes?" she asked, voice sharp, shield back in place.
"Update meeting at four," Martha said softly.
"I wanted to make sure you saw the notice."
"I saw it." Lizzy's tone was clipped. "You don't have to monitor me."
She walked past Martha without another word, her perfume trailing behind like frost.
Martha inhaled slowly, a quiet ache tightening in her chest.
She closed the office door again and relaxed on it, catching her breath.
All this was for the man she loved.
***
Across the hall, Dave Benson leaned against the glass railing, watching Martha return to her desk.
He didn't blink, even when someone greeted him as they passed.
Interesting, he thought.
She was not collapsing under pressure.
Not trembling.
Not running.
She was working.
Carefully, methodically, as though she had always belonged in the center of all this chaos.
Dave tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing.
The fluorescent light cast a faint reflection of him on the glass... a strange double: the polished manager and the restless shadow beneath.
"She thinks she can hold this department together," he murmured, almost amused. "Courageous."
A smile, thin and unreadable, touched his lips.
"But storms aren't beaten by bravery alone."
He tapped his finger against the railing...
once, twice, rhythm steady, calculating...then walked away, leaving nothing behind except a faint chill in the air and the ghost of a plan forming quietly in the corners of his mind.
Martha didn't look up.
She didn't see him.
She didn't know she was being watched.