The car slowed as we approached the main estate, and suddenly the ocean breeze felt heavier. It was like it carried expectations instead of salt. Through the tinted window, I caught my first glimpse of the place Sophia had referred to as “the real Black compound.”

This wasn't just a compound. It was a palace.

The estate rose from the cliffside like it had been carved out of light and old money. White stone walls, clean-cut terraces, endless balconies draped in bougainvillea, and glass ...