Chapter 9 The Eyes In The Wall (Mr.Wu & Mr. Rei)
Behind the sealed doors of a penthouse, few dared to acknowledge, the air was iron-thick with secrecy.
Walls of obsidian glass swallowed sound. No cameras. No records. This suite didn’t exist on any blueprint. What happened here operated outside law, memory, and mercy.
Mr. Wu and Mr. Rei sat like marble relics weathered but unmoved. Across from them stood the only man permitted to break the silence with truth.
Commander Thorne, head of the Shadow Division, placed a matte-black biometric case on the table. It hissed open, revealing a blood-red folder marked with a single glyph: ΔV.
He didn’t waste words.
Inside: photographs. Wiretaps. Surveillance from sources neither government nor criminal could trace.
The first image he slid forward said everything:
Rei’s eldest son and Wu’s middle son side by side shaking hands with a warlord known only as The Locust. A ghost from failed states, his face never caught in full. But the hand was enough: ring, scar, gesture all unmistakable.
“They’re working with him,” Thorne said. “Unclear on full scope, but the partnership’s active. Supply chains. Transport corridors. Something big. Code-named Cradle. Intel’s incomplete—we’re still trying to decipher the real objective.”
He paused, then dropped a map: shipping routes looping through East Africa, Southeast Asia, and former Soviet black zones. Redacted manifests. Deep-sea delivery nodes. Mining excavation overlays.
“And they’re not just flirting with gray markets anymore. This is black-grade, Tier-1 illegal. Funded through buried shell corps under your House umbrellas.”
Mr. Rei's jaw tightened. No surprise. Just corrosion deepening.
Then came the decay in the ranks.
“Your wives,” Thorne continued, flipping the next page, “are conducting soft sabotage. Lady Aiko and Lady Mirelle are bleeding influence into separate factions. Charity boards. Social alliances. One’s funneling intel to a rival House. The other’s bribing genealogists to rewrite bloodline records.”
Wu let out a long breath like something had cracked in his chest.
Not shock. Just grief in slow motion.
“And the next tier down?” Thorne said. “Rot spreads fast.”
He tapped again.
“Your daughter-in-law, Mr. Rei photographed with a known black-market fixer. He runs illicit group homes that double as underground laundering fronts. She's met with him four times. Purpose unknown.”
Then another turn of the blade.
“Mr. Wu your granddaughter. Pregnant by a bartender. Quiet abortion. Covered by digital silence and hush payments routed through a subsidiary in Lisbon. But the trail’s there.”
He dropped the final photo like a verdict.
A young woman screaming. Phone in midair. A servant bloodied on the marble floor behind her. The image was frozen mid-violence, mid-collapse.
“The staff union’s already mobilizing,” Thorne said quietly. “This video is viral in private darknet forums. House of Charuize is trending for all the wrong reasons.”
Then he leaned in slightly, voice sharpening.
“Aalam and Cadeyrn are doing everything they can to keep the family business upright. Presidents. Vice Presidents. Paper lions on paper thrones.”
He clicked to a security feed: Cadeyrn pacing the executive floor. Aalam was seated in the war room, tie loosened, eyes sunken.
“They’ve raised standards. Rebuilt strategy. But the corporate headquarters has become as cutthroat as the family estate. Every department’s battlefield. Titles matter more than competence. Superiority over service. It’s not a business anymore it’s a throne room with desks.”