Mwamba Resort had stood proudly on the coastal cliffs for over two decades. Its lush gardens, ocean breeze, and loyal clientele had kept it alive, but underneath its beauty lay a rot no one dared confront.

  For years, the General Manager ruled from a distant throne — absent in leadership, careless in maintenance. Plumbing decayed, paint peeled, and gardens wilted. Worse still, the finance department, hand-in-glove with senior managers, dipped fingers freely into company coffers.

  Service charge, the lifeline for the junior staff, was a joke. Though guests poured millions into the resort monthly, each employee barely took home 7,000 Ksh, while records suggested they should have been earning 40,000 Ksh or more. Silent suffering became a culture. Complaints were met with threats or mockery.

  The owners, living abroad, were fed reports painted in gold: “All is well. Business is thriving.” They remained aloof — until a friend tipped them off during a private stay: “Your resort is rotting from within.”

  Acting swiftly, they replaced the old GM with a firebrand new manager — Mr. Omondi. From the first day, the winds of Mwamba began to change.

  Staff were shocked: within three months, service charge skyrocketed to over 30,000 Ksh. Not a coincidence — but a brutal audit, strict cost controls, client-centered renovations, and ruthless closure of all theft tunnels. New structures sprouted, ambitious expansion plans rolled out, and travel agents who had abandoned Mwamba returned with renewed contracts.

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  The owners, overwhelmed with gratitude, made an offer: “Become our Director. We want you steering the ship permanently.”

  But Omondi, wise and seasoned, sensed danger. He knew the board — especially the sitting Director — had benefitted richly from the old chaos. He quickly emailed the owners: “Please, delay announcing my promotion officially. I smell sabotage brewing.”

  Unfortunately, by the time the email reached them, the announcement had already gone public.

  The sitting Director, feeling his throne shaken, unleashed hell. Secret alliances were formed with every former thief Omondi had cast into the cold. Meetings in dark corridors, fake complaints, small sabotages — the full machinery of corporate warfare was deployed against him.

  And under relentless, dirty pressure, Omondi resigned.

  The owners were devastated — but it was too late. The rot returned immediately.

  Within a month of his departure, missing funds started surfacing. Service charges for staff plummeted. Maintenance works halted. Guests began complaining again.

  And for the first time, junior staff who had once whispered criticisms now wept openly:“We didn’t know how much he had saved us.”“If only Omondi could come back…”

  But the damage was done.

  Mwamba Resort stood at a crossroads — a living proof that leadership could either rot or revive an empire — and that when good men walk away, the wolves come back with blood in their teeth.