“It was an offshore account. I don't remember the details.” Darnell repliedBenjamin’s gaze sharpened. “Do you have the email associated with that account?” he asked.Darnell nodded slowly. “Yes… I do.”Benjamin tapped his earbud, speaking calmly through the comms. “Cipherella, anything to be done?”Through the earpiece, Cipherella’s voice came clear and precise. “Yes, Master. I can access the emails linked to the account, check all correspondence, and even request statements directly from the bank if needed. Everything can be verified and traced back to him.”Benjamin’s eyes locked on Darnell. “Good,”Benjamin’s voice was quiet but hard. “Give me the logins — email, account numbers, anything tied to that offshore transfer. Now.”Darnell’s hand shook as he fumbled through his pockets. He muttered as he found a small, worn notebook and pushed it toward Benjamin. “There — usernames, some passwords… there’s an email he used: vaultcust@— I can’t remember the whole domain, but it’s in ther

Darnell’s eyes darted around the room. For a long moment he said nothing, counting on fear to buy him silence. Then, beaten and in pain, he began to speak—slowly, haltingly, as if each name peeled a layer off him.“It wasn’t just one place,” he said at last. “There were men who liked profit more than question. A few ministers—small ones, not the public faces—who took payments to look the other way. A customs official in Port Qadir, Fahad Qari, who helped clear shipments. A registrar at the land office who put properties in nominees—Omar Nadir. A judge who delayed cases when asked—Judge Basim Haroun. A shipping magnate—Rafik Sayeed—who let containers disappear for a fee.”He swallowed, the words tasting like ash. “And businessmen—people with legitimate fronts. Galleria Group’s director, Marwan Al-Issa, washed invoices sometimes; Crescent Commodities handled fake paperwork.”Abdelkarim’s jaw tightened. Benjamin's face stayed expressionless, but Benjamin watched each name, measuring weig

Darnell’s eyes darted around the room. For a long moment he said nothing, counting on fear to buy him silence. Then, beaten and in pain, he began to speak—slowly, haltingly, as if each name peeled a layer off him.“It wasn’t just one place,” he said at last. “There were men who liked profit more than question. A few ministers—small ones, not the public faces—who took payments to look the other way. A customs official in Port Qadir, Fahad Qari, who helped clear shipments. A registrar at the land office who put properties in nominees—Omar Nadir. A judge who delayed cases when asked—Judge Basim Haroun. A shipping magnate—Rafik Sayeed—who let containers disappear for a fee.”He swallowed, the words tasting like ash. “And businessmen—people with legitimate fronts. Galleria Group’s director, Marwan Al-Issa, washed invoices sometimes; Crescent Commodities handled fake paperwork.”Abdelkarim’s jaw tightened. Benjamin's face stayed expressionless, but Benjamin watched each name, measuring weig

Benjamin gave a small nod as he settled into his seat. The pilot looked back at him through the headset.“How many hours until we reach Singapore?” Benjamin asked quietly.The man checked the flight display and replied, “From here in Syria, it will take about nine and a half to ten hours, Master. We’ll make one short refuel stop on the way. Since it’s half past eight in the morning here, we should arrive around 5:30 to 6:00 p.m. Syria time, which will be about 10:30 to 11:00 p.m. in Singapore.”Benjamin nodded once more, fastening his seatbelt as the helicopter began to lift off the ground.It was around 1 p.m. in an underground base in Singapore. The place was quiet except for the low hum of computers. Several screens glowed softly, showing maps, codes, and paused feeds.Inside, a small group sat around on chairs and couches, trying to relax. Among them were Helen Anderson, once a police officer but now part of Benjamin’s team; the two animators, who handled system visuals and decoys

Meanwhile in Syria, the atmosphere was on fire.Everywhere — from the news channels to the underground circles — everyone was talking about the same thing.A young man named Abdelkarim had killed Darnell…and claimed the entire empire for himself.Videos began to spread quickly. In some clips, Abdelkarim was standing with blood on his clothes. In others, there were leaked voice clips of Darnell admitting his illegal activities. The whole country went wild — people discussed it on the streets, in bars, in offices, online… it had become the number one topic in Syria.What shocked everyone even more was the fact that this young guy was suddenly getting support from some top officials. People wondered how.But the truth was simple:Abdelkarim had used wisdom.He told those top officials that he knew every detail of their shady business because he had learned it all from Darnell. He warned them that if they didn’t cooperate with him, he would expose them too.They had no choice.Anyone who