The early morning haze settled over the city like a silk sheet, casting Nairobi in a shade of gold and steel. Birds chirped faintly beyond the hum of matatus and honking from impatient Uber drivers. The city was awake, but Damon wasn't asleep to begin with.
He stood on the balcony of his penthouse, shirtless, arms crossed over his chest, eyes locked on the street far below. A black mug of coffee sat untouched beside him, steam rising into the crisp air. Inside, his phone vibrated softly, over and over again.
He finally turned, picked it up.
Tasha had sent three screenshots.
1. A crypto influencer named FlexMoney254 with over a million followers had just posted a new promotional video—praising L&D Ventures as "the most trustworthy digital asset management platform in Africa."
2. A blurry image of Lena in a white power suit stepping out of a black Escalade next to a man whose face Damon recognized immediately—Brandon.
3. An internal email forwarded anonymously from within Talon Digital. Subject: "Phase Two Begins – Prepare for Asset Transfer". Sender: Brandon@EmpireLuxGlobal.com.
Damon stared at the last screenshot, eyes burning.
Phase Two.
Asset Transfer.
That meant Lena wasn't just using his name. She was coming for the company itself. For Talon. For his legacy.
He walked inside, shirt forgotten, pacing barefoot over the marble floor. His living room looked like a war zone—papers everywhere, open laptops, digital boards with flowcharts, red lines connecting names, dates, amounts, IP addresses.
Jasmine sat on the leather couch, her eyes bloodshot from reading reports all night. She'd been quiet, calm, but the fire in her was starting to burn again.
"I think I found her weak link," she said without looking up.
Damon stopped. "Who?"
Jasmine turned the laptop. On the screen was a LinkedIn profile.
Sasha K. Mwende – Crypto Brand Strategist at L&D Ventures.
"She's Lena's new social media lead. Used to work at Empire Lux, just like Brandon. But guess what? Her personal blog has all these motivational posts about transparency, justice, and digital equality. I think she's in over her head."
"You're suggesting we flip her?"
"I'm suggesting we expose her to the truth—and use her conscience to our advantage."
Damon exhaled. "Do it. But carefully."
Jasmine nodded. Then stood up, stretched, and walked to the kitchen.
"You need food," she muttered, pulling out eggs and bread.
He watched her. Even in her messy bun, oversized hoodie, and no makeup, she radiated a power that no billionaire ex could ever replicate. She was real. Grounded. And she was here.
For him.
"Why are you still helping me?" Damon asked, softly.
Jasmine cracked an egg. "Because I'm not finished with you yet. And because I want to see Lena fall with my own two eyes."
They shared a look.
It was more than just romantic now.
It was war.
---
Across town, Lena lounged in a private sky lounge at The Concord Hotel, sipping a mimosa while flipping through a presentation on her iPad. Brandon sat opposite her, freshly shaved, looking every bit the tech-savvy prince his family's empire had raised him to be.
"Damon's already responding," Lena said without looking up. "Leaking small things to the media, digging for insiders."
Brandon chuckled. "Let him. It'll make the final move sweeter."
"You're sure the account transfers are secure?"
"Completely," Brandon said. "Phase Two is bulletproof. By next week, Talon Digital will be ours. His face is still on the cover, but the power? That's shifting. Quietly."
Lena finally looked up. "And Jasmine?"
Brandon smirked. "We'll get to her. Let her feel useful for now."
But Lena's smile faltered slightly. There was something about Jasmine that always bothered her. Not her beauty—though she had it. Not her intelligence—though it was sharp. It was her presence. The way she made Damon different. Human. Real.
It was the kind of power that no money could buy.
And that made her dangerous.
---
By noon, Jasmine was deep in a digital call with Sasha, the crypto brand strategist.
They started off light—talking about Nairobi's digital space, the challenges of young women in tech, the rise of NFT influencers.
Then Jasmine dropped the real question. "Sasha… you ever feel like you're working for the wrong team?"
There was a long pause on the line.
"I don't know what you mean," Sasha said too quickly.
"You're smart. You know what Lena and Brandon are doing. You've seen the shell accounts. The fake testimonials. You've heard the rumors."
More silence.
"I took this job to make something of myself," Sasha finally whispered. "I come from nothing. Empire Lux promised me stability. Lena promised freedom."
"But she's not giving you freedom," Jasmine said softly. "She's using your voice to build a lie. And if this ship sinks, you'll be the face of it. Not her. You."
Jasmine could hear the softest of breaths on the other end.
"I need to think," Sasha said.
"You have 48 hours," Jasmine replied. "After that, the media gets everything."
Click.
Jasmine sat back, heart thudding.
Damon walked in from the next room, phone pressed to his ear. "Victor's got a guy inside Empire Lux's legal team. Turns out Brandon's trying to rush Damon's removal from Talon's board by falsifying documents."
"And?"
"They need two-thirds of the board. Right now they only have five out of nine."
Jasmine arched a brow. "So we protect the remaining four?"
"No. We recruit two more and flip one of theirs."
"How?"
"By reminding them that if Talon falls, they lose millions in equity."
Jasmine grinned. "Good. This is getting fun."
---
That night, Damon attended the Talon Board's annual dinner—held at the private residence of one of the directors, a quiet old-money magnate named Mr. Githinji.
The estate sat on a hidden hill in Karen, surrounded by acres of manicured gardens and armed security. Wealth spoke in whispers here—not flashy displays.
Inside the ballroom, board members mingled in silk suits and embroidered gowns, holding wine glasses, talking mergers and media.
Damon walked in alone.
Commanding.
Untouchable.
He shook hands, exchanged smiles, said nothing of war or betrayal.
But every step he took was calculated. Every nod timed.
He found two board members—Mrs. Mburu, a media mogul, and Isaac Malaba, a software genius turned investor.
He didn't speak in threats.
He spoke in visions.
"I'm not here to protect Talon just because it's mine," Damon told them. "I'm here because it still stands for something. Lena wants to turn it into a shell, another faceless crypto factory. But we built it to create. To influence. To impact."
"Then prove it," Mrs. Mburu said. "Prove that this isn't just personal."
Damon pulled out a small black flash drive.
"Here's proof that Brandon is manipulating our shareholder meetings using dummy votes. Legal will want this."
Malaba narrowed his eyes. "You sure this is real?"
Damon smiled. "Absolutely."
The board meeting would be in five days.
That's when everything would break.
And only the strongest would be left standing.
---
By the time Damon returned home, Jasmine was asleep on the couch, laptop open, soft music playing through her headphones.
He stood there for a moment, watching her.
And for a second, everything felt okay.
Like maybe he could win this.
Maybe he could still have her.
Maybe he could rebuild.
But just as he moved to cover her with a blanket, his phone buzzed again.
This time, the message was short.
Unknown Number: "Check your email. Something's coming."
He rushed to his desk, logged in.
An email had just arrived.
Subject: "The Girl You Love Has a Secret."
Attachment: A video.
He clicked it.
And froze.
It was Jasmine.
Meeting in secret with Lena.
Two days ago.
Laughing.
Shaking hands.
And whispering something that froze his blood.
"I'll get him to trust me. Then I'll break him."
---