Chapter 41: The Deputy Commissioner and The Game Of Submission

I sat back in Graves's office chair, staring at the profiles of the three law-enforcement officers who now worked for me. Graves, Chavez, and Blake were strong assets, but our next target would be the hardest yet.

Deputy Commissioner Isabelle Holt.

She was no ordinary pawn in Cassandra's empire. Isabelle wasn't in it for the money, power, or status. Her loyalty to Cassandra was born out of friendship—a rare, unshakable bond forged over years of trust. Convincing someone like that to turn was a different kind of battle entirely. But I had a plan, and with the tools I now had at my disposal, I knew I could execute it.

Graves, Chavez, and Blake sat across from me in Gaves's Police Chief office. The glow of monitors cast harsh shadows across their faces, but I could see the determination in their eyes.

"Graves," I said, turning to him, "you've worked closely with Holt. What can you tell me about her blind spots?"

Graves frowned, rubbing his temples. "She doesn't have many. Holt's sharp—always a step ahead. She's meticulous, and she's got Cassandra's trust more than anyone else. But..."

"But?"

"She's also got a temper," Graves continued. "If you can prove that Cassandra's betrayed her in any way, you might be able to break her."

I leaned forward, my mind already racing. "Good. That's what we'll focus on. Chavez, Blake—your job is to find every scrap of evidence we can use against Cassandra. I don't care if it's buried in the deepest files or hidden in plain sight. Graves, you'll set up a meeting with Holt. Make it seem like it's on her terms."

Blake raised an eyebrow. "What if she tries to kill you? She's not exactly known for being forgiving."

"I've thought of that," I said, smirking. "That's why we'll have snipers on every rooftop. If she tries anything, we'll neutralize the threat before it even becomes one."

"You are definitely too dangerous to be an ordinary 15-years-old." Blake commented. "Now, I'm starting to believe that you are a reincarnation of a tycoon like the rumors people been spreading around."

So rumors been spreading about my reincarnation huh? I'm guessing that they didn't know that John, Callum, and even Cassandra are the same as me!

t took days of preparation. Chavez hacked into Cassandra's encrypted communication logs while Blake and Graves worked on tracking down records of financial transactions, surveillance footage, and any evidence that would paint Cassandra in a negative light.

What we uncovered was... eye-opening.

There were records of Cassandra funneling money to offshore accounts—without Holt's knowledge. Messages in which Cassandra referred to Holt as "a useful tool" and "a loyal dog." But the most damning piece of evidence came from a conversation between Cassandra and a high-ranking politician:

Cassandra: "Holt's loyalty is useful, but let's not kid ourselves. She's expendable. If she ever gets in the way, I'll handle her personally."

When I saw that, I knew we had her.

Graves did his job well. He arranged a meeting with Holt in a neutral location—a secluded park on the outskirts of the city. Holt agreed to meet, but on one condition: I had to come alone.

I knew better than to walk into a trap blindly. As I made my way to the meeting spot, my team was already in position. Snipers dotted the rooftops of nearby buildings, and John was stationed in a van a block away, monitoring everything through surveillance feeds.

Holt was already waiting when I arrived, her arms crossed and her expression cold. She wore a sharp, tailored suit, her badge glinting under the dim streetlights.

"You're bold, I'll give you that," she said as I approached. "But this is a waste of time. My loyalty to Cassandra isn't something you can buy."

"I'm not here to buy you," I said evenly, stopping a few feet away from her. "I'm here to show you the truth."

Her eyes narrowed. "What truth?"

I pulled out a tablet and swiped to the first piece of evidence: the offshore accounts. "Did you know Cassandra's been funneling millions into personal accounts—without your knowledge?"

She didn't flinch. "That's not proof of anything. She's always been secretive with finances. It doesn't mean she's betrayed me."

"Fine," I said, swiping to the next file. "How about this?"

I played an audio clip of Cassandra's conversation with the politician. Holt's expression hardened as the words played back, each one striking like a hammer blow.

Cassandra: "If she ever gets in the way, I'll handle her personally."

For the first time, I saw a crack in Holt's armor. Her jaw tightened, and her hands clenched into fists.

"That's not real," she said, though her voice lacked conviction.

"It's very real," I countered. "You've given her everything—your trust, your loyalty, your friendship. And this is how she repays you? By calling you expendable?"

Holt turned away, staring into the distance. I could tell she was struggling, torn between her loyalty to Cassandra and the undeniable evidence in front of her.

"She's my friend," Holt said quietly. "She's always been there for me."

"And you've always been there for her," I replied, stepping closer. "But ask yourself this: has she ever treated you like an equal? Or have you always been just another tool in her arsenal?"

Just then, a familiar chime echoed in my mind.

[Hidden Mission Activated: Convince Isabelle Holt to Submit Without Using Items.

Reward: One Roulette Spin – Grand Prize: Legendary-Rank Skill.]

I suppressed a grin. This was exactly the kind of challenge I thrived on.

"Holt," I said, lowering my voice. "I know how hard this is for you. Betraying someone you care about—it goes against everything you stand for. But Cassandra doesn't see you as a friend. She sees you as a pawn. And the moment you stop being useful, she'll toss you aside without a second thought."

She didn't respond, but I could see the doubt in her eyes.

I pressed on. "You've dedicated your life to justice, to doing what's right. But by staying loyal to Cassandra, you're betraying those principles. You're better than this. You deserve better than her."

Holt turned back to me, her eyes blazing with emotion. "And what makes you any different? Why should I trust you?"

"Because I don't want your blind loyalty," I said firmly. "I want your partnership. I want you to join me because you believe in what I'm doing—not because I forced you to. This isn't about power or control. It's about building something better. Together."

There was a long silence. Finally, Holt exhaled and nodded slowly.

"I'll meet with you again," she said. "But don't think this means I'm on your side. Not yet."

"That's all I ask," I said, offering a faint smile.

As she walked away, I couldn't help but feel a surge of triumph. The pieces were falling into place, one by one. And with Holt wavering, Cassandra's empire was closer than ever to collapsing.

Holt's second meeting wasn't far from the first. Same park, same atmosphere, but a different energy. She arrived with her usual cold professionalism, but something about her demeanor was softer—less guarded. As I watched her approach, I couldn't help but notice a faint flicker in my HUD.

[Loyalty Meter: Isabelle Holt – 70%]

I sighed inwardly. There wasn't a side mission or hidden talent to unlock here. Holt wasn't a significant player in the system's eyes—just another piece on the board. But I wasn't about to underestimate her. Holt was Cassandra's best friend for a reason, and someone like that could still hold value in the long run.

"So," Holt began, stopping a few feet away, "I've thought about everything you said."

I raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"I'll admit... you've given me reasons to doubt Cassandra," she said, her voice steady. "But doubt isn't enough for me to abandon everything I've worked for. I still don't trust you, William. Not fully."

I expected as much. People like Holt didn't submit easily. But I wasn't one to back down either.

"Fair enough," I said, leaning casually against a nearby bench. "How about this: let's settle this the old-fashioned way."

She frowned, clearly intrigued but skeptical. "What do you mean?"

I smirked. "We'll compete. Pick something you're good at—something you've mastered—and I'll challenge you to it. If I win, you'll submit to me. No questions asked."

Holt chuckled, shaking her head. "You've got guts, I'll give you that. But do you really think a 15-year-old can beat me at anything I've spent years perfecting?"

"You'd be surprised what I'm capable of," I said confidently.

Her eyes narrowed as she considered my proposition. "Alright, fine. But don't say I didn't warn you. If you lose, this conversation ends here, and I walk away for good."

"Deal," I said, extending my hand.

She shook it firmly, her grip strong and confident. "We'll play a game of negotiation."

I tilted my head. "Negotiation?"

Holt crossed her arms, a sly smile playing on her lips. "It's something I've mastered in my career. The ability to outmaneuver someone with words, logic, and strategy. I've brokered deals between hostile parties, convinced hardened criminals to flip, and even gotten promotions others said were impossible. You're good, William, but this is my world."

I grinned. "Perfect. Let's play."

Holt set the terms: we'd take turns role-playing as opposing negotiators in a mock scenario. Each of us would be judged on how convincingly we could sway the other to our side. The scenario? A hostage negotiation.

I was the hostage taker. She was the negotiator.

"Ready?" she asked, sitting across from me at a picnic table.

"Always," I replied.

She leaned forward, her expression sharp and focused. "Alright, here's the deal: you're holding three hostages, and I'm here to talk you down. Your goal is to keep your demands intact while I try to convince you to release the hostages without losing my leverage. Got it?"

I nodded, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline. This wasn't just a game to me—it was a test of everything I'd mastered in my previous life as a corporate shark.

Holt started strong.

"Listen," she began, her tone calm but authoritative. "I understand you're in a tough position, but taking these hostages won't solve your problems. The police are already surrounding the building, and every second you waste puts you in more danger. Let's work together to find a way out of this that doesn't end with you in cuffs—or worse."

I smiled faintly. "That's cute. But you're forgetting one thing: I don't care about danger. What I care about is getting what I want. And if that means holding these people here until my demands are met, so be it."

Holt didn't flinch. "And what are your demands?"

"Ten million dollars and a private jet. Non-negotiable," I said, crossing my arms.

Her lips curved into a smirk. "Non-negotiable? Everything's negotiable, William. You don't really think you'll get away with this, do you? The second you step on that jet, you're as good as caught. Let me help you find a way out that actually works."

I had to admit—she was good. Her tone, her pacing, her logic—it all screamed experience. But I wasn't about to let her win.

When it was my turn to play the negotiator, I flipped the script.

"Alright," I began, leaning back in my chair. "You've got three hostages, and you're demanding ten million dollars and a jet. But let me ask you this: what's your plan when we catch you? Because we will catch you."

Holt raised an eyebrow. "You're bluffing. You wouldn't risk the hostages' lives just to take me down."

"Am I?" I countered, my voice calm and measured. "Think about it. You're already surrounded. The longer this drags on, the more likely you are to slip up. But if you release the hostages now, I might be able to negotiate a lighter sentence for you. Maybe even witness protection."

She smirked. "Nice try. But I've been in this game long enough to know when someone's lying. You don't have the leverage you think you do."

By the final round, it was clear we were evenly matched. Holt's experience was formidable, but I had something she didn't: a lifetime of ruthless corporate strategy.

"Alright, let's cut the theatrics," I said, leaning forward. "You and I both know this isn't about the hostages. It's about control. You're desperate to prove you're in charge, but deep down, you know you're not. You're grasping at straws, hoping someone will give you the power you crave. But here's the truth: the only power you'll ever have is the power I allow you to keep."

Her eyes widened slightly—a small, almost imperceptible crack in her armor.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, she leaned back and laughed softly.

"You're better than I thought," she admitted. "But this isn't over yet."

"Actually," I said, standing up, "it is."

When the game ended, Holt sat in silence for a long moment, staring at the table. Finally, she let out a long sigh and stood up.

"I'll admit it—you're good. Better than I expected. But don't think for a second that I've completely given up on Cassandra."

"Fair enough," I said, smiling faintly. "But you've taken the first step. That's all I need."

As she walked away, I checked her loyalty meter again.

[Loyalty Meter: Isabelle Holt – 85%]

It wasn't full yet, but it was enough. Holt might not have fully submitted, but she was on her way. And in this game of chess, every piece mattered.