Chapter 5 The Trap Tightens

Ben's Calculated Silence

Ben adjusted his tie in the mirror of his penthouse suite, the crisp charcoal suit hugging his frame like armor. But inside, his mind swirled. Jane was growing bolder. Her texts, her smirks, her confidence-it was all a game to her. She thought she had won.

But Ben Laz wasn't anyone's pawn. Not anymore.

He stepped out of the elevator and into his office hallway, where Jane waited like a predator in heels. Her form-fitting dress was deliberate-strategically designed to unnerve. She leaned on the reception desk, her fingers gliding over the surface as if caressing a lover's skin. Her eyes found him immediately.

"Good morning, boss," she purred, a touch too intimate.

Ben paused, expression unreadable. "Jane."

She moved to intercept him, heels clicking with authority. Her perfume clung to the air-a heady, musky scent that he recognized from that night. The one she used to trap him.

"Have you thought about my request?" she asked, voice low, sultry.

Request. That word grated. She was extorting him. She'd watched the security footage of his late-night lapse-caught him on camera in his office, touching himself after a particularly stressful night and a drink too many. She hadn't said a word then. But days later, she had walked into his office with a USB and a proposition.

Either he gave her what she wanted-or the footage leaked. She hadn't even had to say it. It was in her eyes, in her breathless whisper: You're mine now.

"I have a meeting now," Ben replied smoothly. "We'll talk later."

Jane's lips twitched into a knowing smirk. "Don't take too long. Or someone else might get a copy."

Ben tilted his head slightly. "I'd be careful if I were you."

Her brow arched.

He stepped closer, his voice a whisper. "The higher you climb, Jane, the harder you fall."

He walked past her, calm, cold, calculated. His heart beat steadily, but his jaw clenched when her giggle followed him into the boardroom.

She thought she had the upper hand.

She didn't know who she was playing with.

Frank's Double Life Becomes Riskier

In Chief Laz's expansive office, floor-to-ceiling windows cast a golden glow across the room. Frank sat quietly, his notepad open, pen poised. Laz's words were rapid-fire, but Frank had learned to take only what mattered.

"Dubai is volatile, but if we strike while the market is distracted, we can reroute offshore dividends through our partner bank in Melbourne," Laz explained, rubbing his temples. "No trails, no flags."

Frank nodded. "I understand."

"I mean it, Frank." Laz leaned in. "Not a word to anyone-not Shadrach, not even Ben or Collins."

Frank kept his expression neutral. "Of course, sir."

His phone vibrated again in his jacket. He ignored it.

Laz stood, walking to the liquor cabinet and pouring himself a small glass of Glenfiddich. "You're the only one I trust with this."

The words stung. Trust. Laz trusted him-and that made the guilt sharper.

When the meeting ended, Frank stepped outside, exhaling. He pulled out his phone.

Unknown Number: "Update?"

Frank's fingers hovered over the screen. His handler was growing impatient. He typed slowly.

Frank: "Laz is routing funds through Melbourne. Wants it kept quiet. Even from his sons."

Three dots. Then:

Unknown Number: "Good. Get me names of partner banks. I want full access."

Frank's mouth went dry. That wasn't part of the deal. Full access meant crossing a line-one he wasn't sure he could uncross.

Frank: "That's risky. He's watching the numbers closely."

Unknown Number: "Do it. Or you'll wish you had."

Frank clenched his jaw. He deleted the thread, wiped the logs, and slid the phone back in his pocket. He was in too deep. But if he got caught...

He looked back at Laz's door.

He was betraying the only man who had ever given him a shot.

And now, the noose was tightening.

Collins Walks on Thin Ice

Collins Laz rolled out of bed, groaning as sunlight pierced through half-drawn blinds. The sheets were tangled. The room smelled of sweat, perfume, and expensive regret.

Two women were still asleep-one blonde, one redhead. He didn't remember their names.

His head pounded from last night's champagne-fueled chaos. He reached for the bottle of water by the bed and took a long sip, then groaned again as his phone vibrated.

He glanced at the screen. Hande.

He ignored it. Two seconds later, it rang again.

"Goddammit," Collins muttered, answering. "Yeah?"

"Your time is up," came the cold voice.

Collins swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "Relax. I told you-it's in motion."

"Not fast enough." The voice was sharp, clipped. "If I don't see movement today, I start collecting in other ways. Understand?"

"Don't threaten me, Hande."

"I don't threaten, Collins. I collect. You've got until tonight."

The call ended.

Collins stared at the wall. Hande wasn't a small-time thug. He was dangerous. The kind of man who didn't leave bruises-just disappearances.

He dragged himself to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face. His reflection stared back at him-bloodshot eyes, stubble, and the weight of too many bad decisions.

He needed money. Fast.

His trust fund was frozen temporarily-Ben's doing. The company was on lockdown. And his last investor had pulled out after learning about the club brawl in VI.

Then, an idea.

He picked up his phone and scrolled through his contacts. There was someone who owed him a favor. An old flame-daughter of a powerful senator.

He dialed.

"Melody," he said smoothly when she picked up. "How about lunch? Something private."

It was a long shot.

But Collins had survived worse.

And he always had a card up his sleeve.

Ben's Secret Weapon

Back in his private office, Ben sat across from Tomiwa, his right-hand man. The security expert leaned forward, sliding a folder across the table.

"What's this?" Ben asked.

"Jane's history," Tomiwa said. "I pulled it quietly. You were right. She's been involved in similar incidents-subtle blackmail, seduction tactics. But never caught."

Ben opened the file. Photos. Messages. Financial records. One caught his eye-a transfer from a nightclub owner in Port Harcourt.

"She threatened him too?"

"Got a percentage of his club in the end," Tomiwa confirmed. "She's calculated."

Ben nodded slowly. "Good. Keep digging. I want leverage."

Tomiwa hesitated. "You sure you don't want to report her?"

Ben's jaw tightened. "Not yet. She thinks she's manipulating me. Let her keep thinking it."

"And the footage?"

"I'll find it," Ben said coldly. "And when I do-she's done."

He stood, walking to the window, watching the city stretch beneath him.

The game had begun.

But only one of them would walk away clean.