Chapter 138

Chapter 138
Marcus's POV

I stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows of the manor's study, my fingertips tapping rhythmically against the frame, my gaze piercing through the night and settling on the lights of the eastern district belonging to the Sullivan family.

The latest intelligence reports Felix had just delivered lay spread across the mahogany desk behind me—Gabriel's territory map was contracting at a visible pace, like a sheet of paper being slowly torn apart, disappearing piece by piece, impossible to reverse.

"Sir, latest update." Felix pushed through the door, tablet in hand, the screen flickering with the green glow of encrypted communications. "The Sullivan family's internal conflict has escalated again. Last night at the dockside warehouse, Quincy and Aiden's people engaged in armed confrontation. Both sides took casualties."

I turned from the window and took the tablet from him, carefully examining the surveillance screenshots. In the footage, Quincy stood before a pile of smashed crates, his expression dark, while Aiden's men aimed guns directly at his head. This "infighting" was even more intense than I'd anticipated, more real than any scenario I'd imagined.

"What about Douglas?" I asked casually, my tone carrying a hint of disdain, as if he were nothing more than background noise at the edge of my vision.

"He's frozen three more accounts, including your backup funds in the Celos Islands." Felix's voice held concern, clearly troubled by the sharp decline in account balances. "Finance estimates that if this continues—"

"Nothing but parlor tricks." I cut him off, tossing the tablet back onto the desk with a sharp clack. "Douglas thinks freezing a few accounts will shake the Donovan family? He's dreaming. I've got over a dozen backup channels at Alvin Bank alone. These losses don't even scratch the surface."

I picked up my whiskey glass, the amber liquid swirling inside, reflecting the cold gleam in my eyes. Douglas was accustomed to threatening people with financial games, never understanding that real power wasn't numbers in ledgers—it was about who could make their enemy's blood pool on the floor.

"What about Quincy?" I shifted to the truly important topic, my interest sharpening abruptly. "Did he receive the 'gesture of goodwill' I sent?"

Felix nodded and extracted a handwritten note from his briefcase—Quincy's response delivered through an intermediary, the handwriting messy yet cautious:

"Your terms are tempting, but I need confirmation on two things. First, when this is done, I want complete control of Sullivan's eastern district docks. Second, you need to guarantee you won't treat me like you've treated other traitors. I don't want to become the next 'accidental death' case."

Reading through the message, I couldn't help the smile that curved my lips—now that was right. People with greed, people with weaknesses, those were worth working with. If Quincy had agreed immediately, I would have suspected Gabriel of setting a trap. Now that he was making demands, negotiating, seeking guarantees—this was what a genuinely wavering traitor looked like.

"Tell him," I began slowly, my voice carrying the ease of someone in complete control, "whatever he wants, I'll give it to him. The eastern district docks? Done. Security guarantees? I'll put it in writing under the Donovan family name."

I paused, my gaze sharp as a blade. "As long as he cooperates with me—" Another deliberate pause. "Kill Gabriel."

Felix hesitated briefly. "Sir, what if this is a trap—"

"It's not." My response was absolute, brooking no doubt. "I've seen too many traitors. Quincy's behavior fits the pattern perfectly. After Gabriel's breakdown, he and Aiden have been fighting increasingly viciously over the remaining power. He needs external support to consolidate his position, and I'm perfectly positioned to provide that opportunity."

I walked back to the desk and spread out the city's power distribution map, taking a red pen and drawing a large X across Sullivan territory. "Once I take Gabriel's territory, Douglas's little games won't mean a damn thing. By then, I'll directly swallow his financial network and take back every frozen account with interest."

I looked up, my eyes glittering with cold calculation. "Douglas is just my next target. He thinks hiding behind numbers keeps him safe? Once I deal with Gabriel, the first thing I'll do is show him that in this city, the real rules aren't financial games—they're about whose fist hits harder."

Felix nodded and withdrew, leaving me alone in the study, glass in hand, staring at that map. Quincy's wavering, Gabriel's collapse, Douglas's provocations—everything was unfolding exactly as I'd envisioned. All I needed to do was wait a little longer, wait for Quincy to fully turn to my side, wait for Gabriel's power to completely disintegrate—

And when that moment came, the entire city's underground order would be rewritten with the Donovan name.

I took a slow sip of whiskey, the liquid burning down my throat, hot and intoxicating like the victory almost within reach.

---

Gabriel's POV

I leaned back in the leather sofa of the manor study, my fingers tapping absently against the armrest, my gaze locked on the massive electronic screen mounted on the wall—real-time intelligence data scrolling like a waterfall, each line proving that Marcus was walking step by step into the trap I'd set, every move carefully calculated.

"How's the situation?" I asked, my voice as calm as if discussing the weather, revealing none of the satisfaction from watching pieces fall into their predetermined positions.

Quincy stood before the screen, tablet in hand, his expression grave. "Douglas has basically taken control and cut off Marcus's core economic sources. His three main accounts in the Celos Islands, two money-laundering channels, and his backup fund pool—all frozen. Finance estimates Marcus only has enough liquid capital to maintain normal operations for two months."

"Two months?" I raised an eyebrow, genuinely satisfied. "Faster than I anticipated. Douglas is truly putting his heart into this."

"He has no choice." Aiden entered from the doorway, his face still bearing the bruise from last night's "infighting"—deliberately inflicted by his own men to make the surveillance footage more convincing. "You're holding his daughter's family's whereabouts. If he dares play both sides, he knows exactly what the consequences will be."

I nodded, my gaze returning to the highlighted intelligence on screen. "What about Marcus's retaliation against Douglas?"

"Practically nonexistent." Quincy pulled up another file, his tone coolly analytical. "Based on his reaction, he's completely dismissing Douglas's financial blockade, still convinced he has enough backup funds to weather this."

A cold smile curved my lips. "Arrogance. That's Marcus's greatest weakness—he's too accustomed to solving problems with violence, never understanding that financial warfare is often more lethal than bullets. By the time he realizes what's happening, it'll be too late."

I stood and walked to the screen, my finger pointing at Marcus's territory map. "We can proceed to the next phase. Quincy, it's time to make Marcus completely believe you."

Quincy's eyes sharpened slightly, focused like a soldier awaiting orders.

"Right now, Marcus sees you as someone he can 'cautiously trust,'" I said slowly. "He thinks you're greedy, that you have weaknesses, but he's still not certain whether you're truly willing to betray your own people for profit. So—" I turned to Aiden. "You need to give him an answer."

Aiden immediately grasped my meaning, his expression growing solemn. "You mean, let me..."

"Yes." I interrupted him, needing no further explanation. "You need to suffer a 'devastating blow' right under Marcus's nose, and this time it must be delivered by Quincy's own hand."

The room fell into brief silence, broken only by the soft sound of data scrolling across the electronic screen. Aiden took a deep breath and slowly nodded. "Understood. How far do I need to take it?"

"Convincing enough." My voice remained calm, as if we were discussing an ordinary business negotiation. "Marcus has eyes watching both of you constantly. He needs to see real casualties, real losses, before he'll believe Quincy has completely turned to his side. So this 'infighting' can't be small-scale anymore."

"Aiden, you're going to lose two major warehouses in the southern district. At least ten of your men will 'defect' to Quincy's side. There'll be a 'mysterious loss' from your personal account. The numbers need to be significant enough to make Marcus believe that Quincy, in his eagerness to prove his loyalty to him, is willing to strike at the Sullivan family's core interests."

Aiden's expression darkened, but he didn't argue. He fully understood—if this performance wasn't convincing enough, Marcus wouldn't take the bait, and months of careful planning would be wasted.

He nodded. "No problem."

I turned to Quincy. "You need to play your part too. When Marcus's people bring their 'gesture of goodwill,' you need to appear even greedier—don't just ask for the eastern district docks, make more demands. Ask him to help you eliminate a few 'disobedient' Sullivan veterans, or request weapons support. The more you demand, the more he'll believe you're genuinely tempted."

Quincy's mouth curved into a sardonic smile. "Don't worry. I'll make him think I'm exactly the kind of traitor who'd sell out anything for power."

"Good." I settled back into the sofa and picked up my coffee, taking a measured sip. "Once this performance is complete, we'll move to the final phase. This 'infighting' that's been going on for weeks is finally reaching its climax."

I raised my eyes, my gaze sweeping across Quincy and Aiden, my voice carrying a cold edge of lethal intent. "When Marcus completely believes in your 'betrayal,' when he thinks he's about to swallow the Sullivan family whole—"

I paused, my lips curving into a cruel smile. "That's when his complete destruction begins."

Quincy and Aiden exchanged a glance and nodded in unison. They understood—every step from here on was critical, any mistake could alert Marcus to the deception. But they also knew that if this performance was executed properly, Marcus would fly straight into the flames we'd prepared for him, like a moth inevitably drawn to fire.

"Go prepare," I said, waving them away. "Remember, this 'infighting' needs to be bloody enough, realistic enough, to make Marcus completely drop his guard. I want him to think the Sullivan family is on the verge of collapse, and that he's the one who can kick over this entire structure with a single blow."

The two men left the study, and the room fell silent once more. I sat alone on the sofa, my gaze resting on Marcus's territory map displayed on screen—those areas he'd colored red would soon revert to Sullivan blue.

And Marcus himself would become the final piece to be captured in this chess game, removed from the board entirely.