
The first rays of dawn slipped through the wide glass panels of the Sekwiga residence, spilling golden light across marble floors and quiet, expensive silence.
The house smelled faintly of cinnamon and black coffee, Derick’s morning ritual. He moved through the kitchen with the ease of habit, every gesture calm and deliberate, like someone who had long since learned to find peace in routine. Petrina’s voice drifted faintly from the upstairs hallway, sharp and hurried, half swallowed by the clack of heels against marble. “Derick! Did you iron my navy suit or the gray one?” Derick smiled faintly to himself as he stirred his coffee. “The navy. You said you had that investor breakfast.” A pause. Then her voice again, less sharp now, just distracted. “Right. Thanks.” He placed two plates on the breakfast table, scrambled eggs, toast, and a little fruit. She’d probably only touch the coffee, but he kept doing it anyway. Seven years of marriage had turned his quiet gestures into habit. Maybe love had become a kind of service, one-sided, gentle, and invisible. Petrina appeared a few minutes later, dressed in a navy suit. She was striking in a way that seemed almost deliberate, every detail precise, her posture confident, her hair pulled back in a sleek twist. Derick watched her from behind his mug, that quiet smile still on his lips. “You’ve got a big day,” he said softly. “Always,” she murmured unenthusiastically, sitting and glancing at her phone. “Brian’s coming to the office today, and we’ll be discussing the presentation deck early. I want to make sure I have everything ready before the meeting.” Derick’s brow twitched slightly, though he didn’t look up. “Brian?” “Mhm.” She didn’t notice his tone, she actually never noticed anything about him nowadays, but Derrick didn’t care. “Brian Stone. He used to work with Reed Innovations years ago, before me, actually. He travelled out of the country and now he’s back and wants to invest in Reed. And he has a lot of powerful points.” She sipped from her mug. “My dad says he’s brilliant with international contracts.” Derick sipped his coffee slowly. “Oh.” Petrina finally looked up then, misinterpreting the quiet in his voice as mild disinterest. “You probably don’t remember him. He’s been out of the country a while. But he’s really competent and professional.” He nodded. “Sounds like a good idea.” Their eyes met briefly across the table. She looked away first. That had been happening a lot lately, her gaze flickering off, disinterest staining her grey eyes. Derick wanted to tell her that he remembered every single thing about Brian Stone. The charming ex-boyfriend who broke her heart and left her for better prospects abroad. He wanted to ask why she was letting that man back into her professional life. But instead, he said nothing. Seven years in her family had taught him that silence, sometimes, preserved peace better than honesty. Petrina stood abruptly, grabbing her phone and bag. “I’ll be late if I don’t leave now. You’ll lock up, right?” “I always do,” he replied quietly. She nodded, distracted. “And don’t wait up, I’ll be home late.” “I never do.” He said. A faint smile, more habitual than affectionate, crossed her lips before she brushed past him toward the door. He stood still for a moment after it shut, letting the silence settle again. Then he exhaled deeply. By nine o’clock, Derick was behind the wheel of his old sedan, a deliberate choice. It was the kind of car people didn’t look twice at, which was precisely what he wanted. The world saw Derick Sekwiga as a mid-level project coordinator in a logistics firm, making a modest living. The truth sat quietly behind layers of shell companies, anonymous accounts, and encrypted systems that no one, not even Petrina, had ever questioned. Titan Holdings. His creation. His empire. A machine that stretched across industries, swallowing competitors and funding innovation under different names. He checked his secure phone as he parked near the office building. A message blinked on the encrypted screen. Lily: Derick smiled faintly. Sir. Even the word felt distant here, out of place among the cluttered cubicles of his “job.” Derick: He pocketed the phone and stepped into the building. Derick’s colleagues greeted him absently when he entered. To them, he was the dependable guy who showed up early, handled work efficiently, and never sought the spotlight. To him, they were a perfect cover. By mid-morning, he was reviewing reports on his laptop, nothing impressive on the surface, just project timelines and budgets. But the moment his colleagues went for lunch, Derick’s fingers danced over the keyboard, unlocking a secure hidden drive. Data appeared across the screen, financial graphs, offshore transfers, market shares. He skimmed the figures with an expressionless calm that came only from mastery. Titan Holdings’ growth this quarter was strong. Very strong. Which meant, Reed Innovations, Petrina’s company, was set for another year of steady cash flow under invisible guidance. His guidance. Derick cleared his throat slightly as he clicked through the reports. The funding transfers had all been routed through shell entities. Petrina thought her company’s success was pure innovation and luck. She was smart and business oriented, but for how far her company went and how deep the rivalry was, she wouldn’t have been able to come this far on her own. She never knew who solved the crises before they reached her desk, who neutralized competitors before they struck. It had always been him. Sometimes, he told himself it was fine, love didn’t need recognition. Other times, that thought hollowed him out from the inside. He shut the laptop when footsteps approached. “Hey, Sekwiga.” It was Carl from accounting, holding a coffee cup and a grin. “Your wife’s company’s all over the news again. Some new partnerships deal with Dankey Industries. Big stuff, huh?” Derick smiled faintly. “Yeah. She’s good at what she does.” Carl snorted. “Man, you lucked out. I mean, most of us are just trying to pay rent, and you’re married to a CEO. What’s it like living in the shadows of a powerhouse woman?” Derick leaned back in his chair, lips twitching faintly. “It’s... humbling.” Carl laughed and walked off, oblivious to the layered irony in the answer. That evening, Derick returned home just before sunset. The house was quiet, the way it always was lately. Petrina wouldn’t be back until late; she had dinner meetings and events nearly every night now. He placed his jacket neatly on the couch, poured himself a glass of water, and stepped out onto the balcony. He leaned on the railing, thinking about her. Seven years ago, Petrina had been a whirlwind of passion and ideas. She’d loved a fire that drew him in, unafraid of starting small or dreaming big. He’d believed in her so much that he gave her everything, his skills, his influence, his silent protection. Now she barely saw him. He took a long sip of water and let the ache in his chest burn quietly. The sound of tires crunching against gravel broke his thoughts. A sleek black SUV pulled up outside. Derick frowned. Moments later, the front door opened and a familiar voice called through the hallway, deep, commanding, laced with mockery. “Hah. Still living in my daughter’s house, I see.” Derick turned as Hulu Duck entered, dressed in a crisp suit and gold wristwatch that gleamed under the hallway light. “Good evening, sir,” Derick said quietly. “Evening,” Hulu replied, tone clipped. He looked around, lips curling faintly. “Petrina’s not home yet?” “No. She said she had a dinner meeting.” Hulu gave a small, satisfied nod. “Ah. Always working. I guess the business deal with Brian is coming along well.” He eyed Derrick. “That’s what a real leader does. Not everyone can keep up with her pace.” Derick didn’t respond. Hulu dropped into an armchair and sighed. “You know, Derick, I’ve always wondered……what exactly do you do again? Some logistics... coordination?” “Yes, sir.” “Mm.” The older man chuckled. “Strange. Seven years married to a woman who owns half the tech sector, and you’re still in that same ‘coordination’ role.” Derick smiled faintly, his tone soft. “Some of us build slowly.” Hulu leaned forward, eyes glinting. “And some of us just pretend we’re ‘building’, while our wives pay the bills and man the house.” Silence filled the room for a brief moment. Derick met his father-in-law’s gaze steadily, the calm in his eyes almost unnerving. “I’m not after your daughter’s money,” he said softly. Hulu snorted. “Good. Because if I ever thought you were, I’d see to it you left this family with nothing. And I’ll make sure you rot behind bars.” Derick’s lips quivered upward, not in amusement, but in something close to pity. “Noted.” The older man stood, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve. “Tell Petrina I stopped by. And Derick…try to be useful, hmm? She deserves better than...a–an–average man.” When the door closed behind him, Derick let out a slow breath. He didn’t feel anger exactly, that faded away years ago. What he felt was a tired sort of sadness. He looked down at his hands, steady, capable hands that had built empires in silence, and wondered when exactly it had become easier to let people underestimate him than to be understood. From the corner of the desk, a framed photo caught the lamplight, him and Petrina, taken on their honeymoon. She was laughing in that picture, sunlight catching her hair. He looked younger, lighter. And she looked in-love. He turned the photo face-down. The clock ticked softly in the stillness. Outside, the night deepened. Derick didn’t see the message that arrived on Petrina’s phone hours later, after she had come back from her late night meetings. Brian: <“I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning. We’ll finalize the expansion proposal together. It’ll be just like old times.>” And beneath that another text, followed. Brian: <“and there’s also something I’ve been meaning to tell you about Derrick. We’ll talk about that after.”>Latest Chapter
Chapter 167: Cut The Link With Kendi!!!
Bypassing Mayfair, the engine noise from the African scrubland cut out for a second, replaced by the hollow, metallic groan of a chassis being twisted to its absolute limit. In the quiet cab of the saloon, the sound was intimate, almost suffocating."She's bottoming out," Jackson whispered. His eyes remained locked on the telemetry. "The terrain profile doesn't match the satellite imagery Westbrook submitted to the high court. They logged this entire quadrant as a desertification zone.""Because dry land carries no ecological indemnity," Derick said. He guided the silver saloon into the shadow of the Palace of Westminster. The gothic spires looked black against the bruising sky. "If there’s no water on the books, there's no crime in poisoning it with the runoff from the gold tailings. It’s perfect corporate arithmetic."On the dashboard console, Kendi’s voice returned, tighter now, punctuated by the sharp crack of an overstressed leaf spring."Derick? If you're receiving this, the loc
Chapter 166: Bypassing Mayfair
The rain on Grosvenor Square had turned into a fine, isotropic mist by the time the silver saloon cleared the security barrier, its tires spitting grit against the brickwork of the embassy lane. Derick kept the headlights dipped. London was waking up in fragments—milk floats, the first red double-deckers grinding toward Marble Arch, and the pale, sodium glow of streetlamps reflecting off windows that had been dark since the Blitz. Beside him, Jackson didn't move. The laptop screen was a pale blue mask across his face, throwing the hollows of his cheeks into sharp relief. His thumbs remained hooked over the chassis, frozen in the posture of a man who had spent three hours defusing a bomb only to realize he was still holding the detonator. "The London mirror just dropped six packets," Jackson said. His voice was flat, drained of the adrenaline that had carried them through the basement descent. "Some kind of deep-packet inspection. It’s not the compliance committee. It’s too fast for
Chapter 165: The Public Server
The wet asphalt of Grosvenor Square dissolved behind them as Jackson stepped into the waiting elevator, his fingers already hammering at the glass screen of his tablet. The lift hummed, a low-frequency vibration that rattled the brass handrails as they began their descent toward the underground parking level."The regional office in Mombasa just flagged Vance’s credentials," Jackson said, his eyes reflecting the sharp blue glare of the interface. "The automated system picked up the concurrent login from London. We have exactly four minutes before the security protocol locks the session and forces a manual override.""Then don't format the text from scratch," Derick said, his voice cutting through the mechanical hum of the elevator. "Pull the pre-cached Markdown files from the staging server. Strip the metadata, bypass the regional translation layer, and dump the raw Appendix C directly into the root directory. If the ministries want to read it, they can use Google Translate.""That le
Chapter 164: Mombasa
Jackson’s fingers flew across the tablet screen, the blue light casting sharp, angular shadows over his face. "The upload protocol requires three separate administrative keys, Derick. I have mine, and you have yours. But we need a proxy signature from the regional operations office in Mombasa to bypass the standard forty-eight-hour quarantine.""Use Vance’s credentials," Derick said without turning from the window. Below, a black Mercedes sedan slid smoothly away from the curb, its taillights bleeding red streaks across the wet asphalt. Westbrook’s exit. "He left his token active on the secure subnet when he rushed out. He was too busy hiding his pen to clear his cache.""That’s a compliance violation. If the board audits the keystrokes—""If we don't have the text on the public server by midnight, there won't be a board left to audit us," Derick interrupted. His voice was level, stripped of the adrenaline that usually followed a boardroom coup. He reached into his pocket, his fingers
Chapter 163: Grosvenor Square
The door of the boardroom clicked closed with a heavy, pressurized sigh that seemed to vacuum the remaining oxygen from the room. Westbrook was the first out, his briefcase gripped so tightly his knuckles showed white through his artificial tan. Vance trailed him like a shadow detached from its owner, still frantically pocketing his pen.Derick remained in his chair, his hands flat against the cool, ancient oak of the shipyard table. The room emptied in ripples until only he, Jackson, and Haraldsen remained. The Chairman was slow in his movements now, the sudden authority he had wielded during the roll call dissolving back into the tired posture of an aging bureaucrat.With a deliberate, mechanical precision, Haraldsen reached into his breast pocket. He did not pull out a phone or a pair of spectacles. Instead, he withdrew a small, tarnished silver object and set it gently on the brass plate where his gavel had rested moments before.It was an antique water meter key, its T-bar worn s
Chapter 162: The Noon Division
The street outside the Connaught felt like a cold slate wiped clean by the drizzle. Derick walked fast, his coat unbuttoned, letting the damp London air cut through the lingering heat of the dining room. Jackson kept half a pace behind him, his shoes clicking rhythmically against the wet pavement of Carlos Place."Westbrook’s going to whip the second-tier directors," Jackson said, his voice low as they rounded the corner toward Grosvenor Square. "He’s already calling Henderson and Vance. If he loses Haraldsen on the audit trigger, he’ll try to choke the funding at the committee stage.""Let him call them," Derick said. "Henderson moves with the tide. Vance moves with Henderson. If Haraldsen votes to publish, the center holds.""And if Haraldsen’s nod was just courtesy?" Jackson asked. "He’s a statistician, Derick. He likes the weight of an argument, but he lives in the shadow of the regulatory board. He knows exactly how much noise an extraordinary audit makes."Derick stopped at the
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