Chapter 8
829 Words
A New Power Move
Ben sat in his Lagos office, the familiar skyline cloaked in twilight hues of orange and purple. The hum of the city below seemed distant, almost surreal. His marriage to Diana had elevated his public image—calm, refined, and untouchable. But behind closed doors, Ben was working harder than ever.
He leaned forward at his desk, fingers steepled, eyes focused on the Vinx Wristwatch prototype lying in front of him. Sleek. Sophisticated. The very embodiment of timeless ambition. This wasn’t just a business move; this was personal. A project that would bear his name and no one else’s.
His phone buzzed. Tomiwa.
“We’re ready,” Tomiwa’s voice came through, clipped and confident.
Ben nodded, though Tomiwa couldn’t see him. “Let’s keep this between us. Not even Collins should know the full scope.”
“Understood.”
Ben ended the call. The launch was set for four weeks. They’d already secured a key showroom space in Lekki and a soft partnership in Gambia through Diana’s family connections. But Ben knew success painted a target on his back.
Shadrach’s name had surfaced again in hushed whispers. Something was coming. And Frank? Ben couldn’t shake the suspicion that his father’s most loyal aide was hiding something.
Frank’s Secret Betrayal
Frank sat in the corner booth of a shadowy bar off Obalende. His glass of whiskey remained untouched. Across from him sat a lean man in a tailored suit, his face hidden in the dim lighting, the smell of smoke hanging in the air.
“You’re too slow,” the man said, his voice clipped with irritation. “We need Laz’s plans. All of them. Not just whispers and speculation.”
Frank’s hand trembled slightly. “Ben is the bottleneck. Chief Laz trusts him with everything and barely says a word to the rest of us.”
The man leaned forward, his ring catching the faint light. “Then find a way to get closer. Or create a crack.”
Frank clenched his fists. He had always played both sides, but this time, the stakes were deadly. The man wasn’t just a client—he was a power broker with ties to foreign cartels. If Frank failed him, there’d be no second chances.
“I’ll get it done,” Frank said, forcing calm into his voice.
“You better. Next time we talk, you bring results—or blood.”
Collins’ Reckless Gamble
Somewhere in a dimly lit underground casino near Victoria Island, Collins slammed down a handful of chips. His laughter echoed through the smoke-filled room as he leaned back in his seat, whiskey glass dangling from his fingers.
Across from him, Hande, the Turkish-Nigerian drug lord with a quiet menace in his gaze, smiled thinly.
“You play like a man who’s already lost,” Hande said.
Collins grinned, eyes glazed. “That’s the fun part. When you stop caring, you stop losing.”
But Hande knew Collins wasn’t fearless—he was desperate, in over his head with debts he couldn’t repay and rumors circulating that Ben was cutting him out of future plans.
Hande leaned in. “You’ve bought time with charm, Collins. But I don’t run on charm. I run on returns. I want my money. Or something more valuable.”
Collins straightened a bit, the implication sharp and chilling. “You’ll have it. I’m working on something.”
“You have seventy-two hours,” Hande said, voice low. “After that, we talk consequences.”
Collins tried to smirk, but it faltered. He was dangerously close to the edge—and this time, his last name couldn’t save him.
Jane’s Next Move
From the shadows of her glass-walled office, Jane watched Ben through the tinted panel. He was too quiet. Too methodical. And that worried her.
She closed her laptop, then reopened it, flipping through her hidden folder titled “Ben Exposed.” Videos. Emails. The photos from the night he slipped up.
But something didn’t add up. He should’ve cracked by now. Should’ve begged. Instead, he was pulling away, surrounding himself with people like Tomiwa.
She grabbed her phone. A message from Alex blinked on her screen.
“He’s planning something. Get ahead of him.”
She responded quickly: “Already watching. Give me 48 hours.”
If Ben thought he could wriggle free, he had underestimated her. She’d broken stronger men before. And Alex… Alex had given her just the insurance she needed.
But still, a small sliver of doubt crept in. What if Ben wasn’t the only one hiding cards?
Final Thoughts
Ben paced in his study later that night. The house was quiet. Diana was asleep upstairs, and the staff had retreated to their quarters.
He turned the prototype wristwatch in his hand, the cold steel reflecting his grim expression.
Everything was in motion—Jane, Frank, Collins, and the shadows behind them. But this time, Ben wouldn’t wait to be cornered.
He would strike first.
- Writer
