Tariq stumbled from his office, with his phone still clutched in his trembling hand. The silence of the hallway was a stark contrast to the digital firing squad he’d just escaped. His mind reeled, it was a whirlwind of accusations, threats, and now, the chilling pronouncement from Yohan Johnson. “Serious trouble concerning your ownership of Diamond Bank.” The words echoed, each syllable was a hammer blow against his fragile composure. He owned 70% of that bank! It was his anchor, his last bastion of financial stability in a world that was rapidly turning to quicksand.His legs felt like lead, but he forced himself forward, driven by a primal need to understand. He navigated the familiar halls of his penthouse apartment, with the opulent decor now feeling like a hollow mockery of his crumbling empire. He reached for his car keys, his hand shaking as he fumbled with them. Driving himself was out of the question; his vision was still swimming, and his thoughts were a chaotic jumble

“Now,” Tariq said, his voice was a low growl, “explain. What is this ‘serious trouble’ concerning Diamond Bank? And what part does he play in it?” He jabbed a finger in Christopher Richmond’s direction.Yohan leaned forward, his elbows resting on his desk. His voice dropped, becoming hushed, almost conspiratorial. “Mr. Khyber, I regret to inform you that I am fully aware of the… calamity that has befallen the Khyber family, and indeed, the entire Khyber franchise.”Tariq flinched as the word “calamity” hung in the air, a stark reminder of his public humiliation and financial ruin. “And what does that have to do with Diamond Bank? I own 70% of this institution, Yohan. It is sound. It is… it was my last stable asset.”Yohan’s expression was grim. “Precisely. That’s the core of the issue, Mr. Khyber. With the current calamity in the Khyber family and the collapse of the Khyber franchise, your financial position is… precarious. To say the least. And because of this, there is someone who i

“And finally, fifth,” Yohan concluded, his voice was now almost pleading, his eyes were filled with a desperate pragmatism.“It’s Your Only Way Out of Utter Destitution! For God’s sake, Tariq! You are broke! The Khyber family is down to bare bones! Do you understand what that means? It means no more lavish parties, no more private jets, no more exclusive club memberships! It means your children, your family, will go hungry! This money from the sale of Diamond Bank, it’s not about power anymore, it’s about survival! It’s about putting food on your family’s table! It’s about avoiding the ultimate humiliation of being utterly penniless!”The words hung in the air, raw and unforgiving. Yohan’s chest heaved with the force of his outburst. He had said it. He had finally said what no one dared to say. Tariq Khyber, the once-mighty financial titan, was broke.Tariq’s mind reeled. The idea of selling Diamond Bank wasn’t just about losing an asset; it was about surrendering his very essence, h

Just then, his private line, a secure phone only for the most important calls, rang. Tariq stared at it, his heart was pounding with a morbid dread. Who could it be now? Another messenger of doom?He snatched the receiver, his voice was curt. “What is it?!”A hushed, somber voice on the other end, the head of medical staff at the exclusive hospital where his brother was being treated, spoke. “Mr. Khyber… I regret to inform you… it’s about your brother, Farouq.”Tariq froze. His blood ran cold. Farouq. His younger brother. His confidant. The only person he truly trusted, the one who had stood by him through every storm, every challenge. The quiet, brilliant mind who had helped him navigate the complexities of the Khyber franchise.“What about him?” Tariq demanded, his voice was suddenly weak, it was a premonition of unimaginable horror washing over him.The voice on the other end was filled with profound regret. “Mr. Khyber… I’m so sorry. Despite our best efforts… Mr. Farouq Khyber…

Yusuf straightened, his eyes were still fixed on the robed figure. “It seems everything was too difficult for him to handle,” he responded, his voice was carefully neutral, echoing the man’s own lack of sentiment. He felt a pang of something akin to guilt, a phantom ache for the brother he had just lost, but he pushed it down. This was not the time for sentimentality.The robed man finally turned, slowly, deliberately. His face was sharp, intelligent, with eyes that seemed to miss nothing. A faint, knowing smile played on his lips. “You know,” he began, his gaze piercing, “a large part of this victory goes to you. Another way of putting it is that you, Yusuf, played a part in the total ruin of your family.”The words, though true, were delivered with a lightheartedness that was both chilling and disarming. Yusuf felt a blush creep up his neck. Even though his efforts were, in his mind, for the greater good—a necessary dismantling to rebuild anew—the direct accusation, even deliv