Ochieng walked out of The Celestial Lounge with his mind racing. The city lights shimmered like broken glass beneath the night sky, but all he could see was the storm brewing ahead. Brian had made his move, and Rolex—the ghost from his past—had resurfaced.
He slid into his car, gripping the steering wheel. His empire was built on power, secrets, and absolute control. He wasn't about to let anyone shake it.
His phone buzzed. It was Derick.
"We have a problem," Derick said, his voice tight.
Ochieng exhaled. "Tell me."
"Someone hit our offshore accounts. A billion dollars. Gone."
A deadly silence settled in the car.
"Who?" Ochieng's voice was ice.
Derick hesitated. "I don't have a name yet. But the transaction was traced back to Geneva."
Ochieng's mind worked fast. Rolex had been known to play the long game. If he was behind this, then he wasn't just here for revenge—he was here to destroy everything Ochieng had built.
"Find out who did it," Ochieng ordered. "And get Shalom on the line. We need to lock down our assets before we bleed out."
Derick didn't argue. "I'm on it."
Ochieng hung up, his fingers tightening around his phone. His enemies had drawn first blood. Now, it was his turn.
---
Somewhere in Geneva
Rolex leaned back in his leather chair, a glass of aged bourbon in hand. Across from him, Brian sat with a smirk that barely concealed his arrogance.
"It's done," Brian said. "Ochieng's empire just took its first hit."
Rolex swirled his drink. "Good. But this is just the beginning."
Brian raised an eyebrow. "What's next?"
Rolex's smile was slow, predatory. "We take everything he has. His money, his power… and his pride."
Brian chuckled. "And then?"
Rolex leaned forward, his voice a whisper laced with poison.
"Then we bury him."