The Game of Choices

"The most difficult game....LIFE."

Nafisa sat in her room, gazing out the window. The city was alive with the hum of cars rushing by and people moving briskly—some heading to work, others returning home. She reached into a drawer and pulled out a photograph of Andrich. A soft smile crossed her lips as she looked at it.

Andrich had been a close friend for years, but after Nafisa started working for VPS, their meetings became infrequent. VPS had strict rules about keeping personal life separate from business. Over time, Andrich married and built a family, and when Nafisa found out, she made every effort to reconnect. Their paths finally crossed again at a party organized by VPS, where Andrich introduced her to his wife, Shalini.

Shalini was aware of her husband's past with Nafisa, but she never objected to their meetings—which only grew more frequent after that night. While VPS remained occupied with his empire, Nafisa quietly helped Andrich gain access to the underworld, introducing him to new buyers and key players. With her guidance and his unwavering honesty, Andrich amassed a great fortune for himself and his family.

Shalini never interfered in his dealings, as long as the money kept flowing. But Andrich made a fatal mistake—he sold drugs to a client who was a close associate of VPS. That single misstep marked the beginning of his downfall. Furious, VPS cut off all of Andrich's connections and issued a warning: anyone who dared to do business with him would face death.

Stripped of his network, Andrich was reduced to a small-time dealer, his wealth rapidly dwindling as he struggled to maintain his reputation. Nafisa pleaded with VPS to reconsider, but he remained unmoved, refusing to forgive the betrayal.

Andrich was left to fend for himself, his empire reduced to ruins, while Nafisa watched helplessly, caught between loyalty and the harsh rules of the underworld.

A phone call snapped her out of her trance. She glanced at the screen—an unknown number, but not an unexpected one. A slow smile curled her lips.

"I knew you would call, Arthur."

"We still don't trust you," Arthur replied. "Before you meet me or Dempsey, you'll have to prove yourself."

"What test?"

Arthur laid out the conditions. Nafisa chuckled. "That's all? I would have done far more if you had asked."

"Don't be so eager," Arthur warned. "If the information you give me is false, the consequences will be severe."

"Will I be safe from VPS?" she asked.

Arthur sighed. "I can't promise that. But one thing is certain—VPS will suffer."

A smirk played on Nafisa's lips. "That's all I needed to hear."

"Now, tell me something only you and VPS know."

"Do you know why VPS keeps sending me to Nairobi to destroy containers?"

"Why?"

"Because what's inside them is the result of two years of relentless work by him and his mentor. He doesn't want the people who stole from him to use his invention to create havoc. That's why he never fails to destroy the containers."

"What exactly is inside?"

"I don't know. I just know it must be destroyed, and I destroy it. But this time, I haven't. The shipment will soon leave Nairobi for Belgium. VPS will do everything in his power to stop that from happening. And if you want to hurt him, there's no better way than this."

"Are you telling the truth?"

"Why would I lie?"

Arthur hesitated. "It'll be impossible to verify this in such a short time. But if you are telling the truth, it's something I can't afford to ignore. Wait for my call."

The line went dead. Nafisa stared at the phone, exhaling slowly. She had just revealed a major secret—without hesitation. But if Arthur and Dempsey failed to sabotage VPS's plans, she would be in serious trouble.

Lying with his eyes closed, Dempsey envisioned his future—too bright to see, or so he liked to believe. He opened his eyes, gazing out at the clouds drifting past the window of his private jet. Pouring himself a glass of wine, he raised it to his lips, a smirk forming—only to be interrupted by the sharp ring of his phone.

He grunted. "Who the hell is it?"

Glancing at the screen, he saw an unknown number. With a sigh, he answered, "Hello. Who's this?"

A smooth yet familiar voice responded, "You forgot so soon, Mr. Dempsey? I thought we were starting to become close friends."

Dempsey's smirk returned. "Mr. Garbett. How are you?"

"Let's skip the pleasantries. Just tell me—how far have you gotten with my request?"

Dempsey let out a small chuckle, though there was a slight hesitation in his tone. "Ah, the matter at hand. Well, let's just say it isn't outright impossible, but it sure as hell isn't easy either. I've sent my guys to look into it, but the lack of an exact location is proving to be a challenge. If you could provide any additional details, it would improve our chances."

Garbett sighed. "I don't have the exact location or any intricate details. Charan was a slippery bastard, and only one man ever managed to find where the money was hidden. Unfortunately, that man is dead. And trust me, he was just as cunning."

Dempsey swirled the wine in his glass, considering his words. "I can't promise you'll have it overnight, but if you keep backing me, sooner or later, that money will be yours."

A pause. Then Garbett's voice dropped to a colder tone. "Just remember, I have other people who can get the job done too."

The call disconnected.

Dempsey stared at his phone for a moment before exhaling through his nose. He took a slow sip of his wine, his smirk lingering.

Dempsey stared at his wine glass, swirling the deep red liquid before muttering, "I'm already fed up battling with people like VPS, and now this man wants me to chase some 'treasure' without even an exact location." He exhaled loudly, irritation settling in his chest.

Before he could take a sip, his phone buzzed again. This time, it was his old friend.

He answered, "Tell me something good, Arthur."

Arthur's voice was laced with urgency. "Nafisa has shared some valuable intel. I think we need to act on it immediately."

Dempsey listened carefully, his smirk returning as Arthur laid out the details.

"Now this," he said, leaning back in his seat, "this is a big revelation. If we manage to exploit this sore spot, VPS will have no choice but to acknowledge our might."

Arthur sighed. "There's a problem, though."

Dempsey's smirk faded slightly. "What problem?"

"The containers are government-controlled, and the military oversees all imports and exports. VPS has the money, men, and audacity to challenge them. But us? Our partners won't agree to risk their security by attacking a military-protected shipment—especially one that would put us on VPS's radar."

Dempsey chuckled, shaking his head. "Forget the military and government red tape. The real issue here is the Belgium angle. We don't know who they are or how deep their connections run. If they're managing an intricate government project illegally, they must have serious influence.

"Think about it. If the containers hold a critical weapon component that VPS doesn't want Belgium to have, then the value must be in the billions. More money means more danger. More danger means more respect. More respect means more power. And more power? That brings in even more money.

"It's a cycle, Arthur. One that could make us richer than the previous High Table."**

Arthur was silent for a moment before he finally said, "I get it. But as you said, this means putting everything at stake. What if it turns out to be more chaotic than expected? The previous High Table got destroyed for messing with the wrong people."

Dempsey's expression hardened. "Progress demands risk. We can't afford to sit idle while our enemies dominate every field. VPS—no matter how much I detest him—is a calculative, fearless strategist. He built himself into a force to be reckoned with. If we want to take him down, we need to be just as bold."

Arthur hesitated, then said, "If that's your decision, I'd like to send someone to assist you. He's the perfect man for dangerous tasks."

Dempsey raised an eyebrow. "Who is he?"

Arthur chuckled. "That's a surprise. When are you returning?"

Dempsey sighed, rubbing his temple. "Wish I could answer that. Digging through someone else's mess will keep me busy for another month or two."

"And what about Nafisa?" Arthur asked.

"Bring her in. But keep an eye on her."

Dempsey disconnected the call, exhaling as he sank into his seat. He pursed his lips, lost in thought. This endeavor would be a dangerous gamble, one that stirred both exhilaration and unease in his heart.

But wasn't that the thrill of the game?

Toufique and Sonny sat on the edge of a building, drinking and smoking. Toufique smiled as he exhaled a cloud of smoke.

"Your life is beautiful, Sonny. You had everything from the start—imported clothes, expensive shoes, luxury cars, and now, a highly educated and stunning wife. I have to be honest, man—I envy you."

Sonny smiled, though there was something in his expression that hinted at pain.

"Envy? Of me?" He scoffed. "I'm the one envious of your life. Sure, I have all the luxuries every miserable rich kid gets handed to them, but there's one thing I don't have—love. Annabelle and I… we love each other, I suppose. But, to be honest, it doesn't feel like my love to claim. Like I didn't earn it. Like I don't deserve it."

He took a slow sip from his glass, staring at the city lights.

"How well do I even know Annabelle? We played together as kids, shared a few childish memories, but beyond that? Nothing. She grew up into a beautiful woman, and I just happened to be somewhat handsome. Our families saw a profitable alliance in our marriage, and now it's happening. But what comes next? Kids? Maybe. Maybe not. Well, at least not five. That's for sure."

Toufique chuckled and playfully punched Sonny's arm. Sonny pulled him into a tight hug.

"You're a lucky man, Toufique. A very lucky man. Ruksana loves you with all her heart. I see the way she looks at you—the love, the respect. She loves being with you, loves being the mother of your children. She's content to stay by your side for the rest of her life."

Toufique grinned. "You should see her when she's angry. She turns into a raging bull."

Sonny smirked. "Where there's love, there's anger. She loves you a lot. Never betray her."

Toufique let out a deep sigh. "I wish I could say otherwise. Ruksana is an incredible wife. She has a pure heart. But sometimes… her kindness unsettles me. It's like she's hiding something. She never says no to me, never argues, obeys every word like the perfect wife. She's exactly what every man dreams of. And yet… that very perfection irritates me."

Sonny leaned back, looking at the sky. "I'm no expert on women, but Ruksana is one of the best I've seen."

Toufique smirked. "The grass is always greener on the other side."

"No," Sonny corrected. "The grass is greener, period."

Toufique laughed as he stood up. "Gotta take a leak." He stretched and made his way downstairs.

Sonny lay back on the concrete floor, closing his eyes. The city hummed around him, but the moment of peace was short-lived. His phone buzzed. Without checking the screen, he answered.

"Mr. Coppola, how are you?"

"I'm fine. What about you?"

"Nothing special. Just waiting for VPS's orders."

"Why? Where is he?" Coppola's tone carried a hint of worry.

"No idea. Maybe Japan. Maybe somewhere else. He left after introducing me to an old friend."

"Who?"

"A guy named Toufique. Lives in Hyderabad. Apparently, he and VPS go way back. I'm staying with him for now. Tell my father not to worry—I'll be in Italy before the wedding."

"Actually, I called about something Mr. Massino did."

Sonny sighed. "What now?"

"What else? He killed someone."

"Who?"

"A biker named Glenn. Apparently, he stole an important consignment from us. Mr. Massino lost his temper and took care of him."

"And you're calling me for this… why?"

"Because Glenn had ties to the British Mafia. He was close to Mr. Salt. If we don't reach Salt before our enemies do, we're going to have a problem."

Sonny exhaled sharply. "Salt won't waste his time on baseless complaints. Glenn stole from us. Retaliation was inevitable. If he's dead, that's on him."

"VPS said the same thing. But Dempsey won't miss an opportunity like this. It would be wise to talk to Salt before this gets out of hand."

"So what do you want from me?"

"I thought you were with VPS. I was hoping you could convince him to speak to Salt on Massino's behalf."

"Wouldn't it make more sense for my father to handle this himself? Sending VPS to talk to Salt would be an insult."

"It would be worse if Mr. Massino did it. Your father is stubborn—he won't show humility or respect. If he talks to Salt, it'll only make things worse."

"Then talk to VPS."

"I did. He dismissed my concerns outright."

Sonny pinched the bridge of his nose. "Leave Salt alone for now. Focus on Mr. Valentina and Annabelle. VPS thinks they're hiding something—something that could be a problem later."

"He's being paranoid."

"Maybe. But keep an eye on them anyway."

"Alright. Take care."

The call ended. Sonny stared at the phone for a moment before tucking it away. He closed his eyes again, but sleep wouldn't come.