Chapter 7 - The Gathering Storm
The two weeks of Levi’s suspension passed with a strange, deceptive calm.
Without Levi’s abrasive presence, the compound felt quieter, almost peaceful. But Diamond was no fool. He knew that in the underground world, silence was rarely a sign of peace; it was usually the calm before a devastating strike.
Diamond had secretly hired an independent security audit team from outside the city to review the estate’s network logs and financial transactions over the past twenty four months.
It was two AM on a Tuesday when the preliminary report arrived on his secure tablet.
Diamond sat at his desk, his face illuminated by the stark blue light of the screen. As his eyes scanned the encrypted transaction ledgers, a cold, icy clarity settled into his bones.
Caprice walked in, carrying a tray with warm tea. She noticed his expression instantly—the rigid jaw, the hollow, dangerous look in his eyes.
"What is it?" she asked, setting the tray down.
"The sniper two years ago," Diamond said, his voice devoid of all emotion. "It wasn't a rival family from the South Side."
Caprice stopped. "Who was it?"
"It was Levi," Diamond said smoothly, pointing a finger at the screen. "He opened an offshore account in the Cayman Islands six weeks before the attack. Two million dollars was wired to a shell company owned by a hitman named Vance. And for the last two years, Levi has been systematically siphoning funds from my accounts while keeping me isolated in this room."
Caprice’s hand flew to her mouth. "He wanted you paralyzed... so he could take over the business without killing you outright and starting a gang war."
"He wanted me as a helpless figurehead," Diamond corrected, a dark, terrifying smile spreading across his face. "A tiger in a cage while he ran the jungle."
Suddenly, the lights inside the study flickered and died.
The entire estate was instantly plunged into pitch blackness.
A split second later, the loud, mechanical thrum of the compound’s secondary generators failed to kick in. The familiar hum of the air conditioning died.
"Diamond—" Caprice gasped in the dark.
"Stay down!" Diamond commanded instantly.
He reached into his desk drawer, his hand closing around the cool, heavy steel of a custom 9mm handgun. He racked the slide with a sharp, practiced clack that echoed through the pitch-black study.
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Outside, the perimeter alarms were dead silent. The power grid to the entire compound had been manually severed from the internal control room—a room only three people had access codes for.
"They cut the main power and the backup bypass," Diamond whispered, pulling Caprice down behind his broad mahogany desk. "Levi isn't coming back to apologize. He's coming to finish what he started two years ago."
