Chapter 42: The First Move

The glimmering banquet hall, filled with the rich and powerful, continued to pulse with energy. Conversations overlapped, champagne glasses clinked, and soft music played in the background. But Jackim was no longer interested in the elegance of the night.

His mind was elsewhere—on Damian Rothschild's warning, on Maggy's cryptic words, and most importantly, on the dangerous game he had just entered.

He knew one thing for sure.

This was no ordinary night.

....

Jackim's sharp gaze scanned the room. He could see how the social circles were divided. The old money families, standing in tight-knit groups, barely mingling with outsiders. The new money elites, trying to make their mark, flashing their wealth through designer suits and extravagant jewelry.

Then, there were those in between—the true power players. The ones who didn't flaunt their wealth but controlled everything in the shadows.

Damian was one of them.

And if what Maggy said was true, then Jackim had just walked into the lion's den.

But if there was one thing he had learned from his life of struggle, it was this—lions only respected those who refused to bow.

.....

Just as Jackim was contemplating his next move, a deep voice interrupted his thoughts.

"You. Come with me."

Jackim turned to see a tall man with sharp features and piercing eyes. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, but there was something in his stance that reminded Jackim of a fighter.

Maggy stiffened beside him. "That's Caleb Vaughn," she whispered. "One of Damian's men. Be careful."

Jackim nodded slightly before following Caleb out of the main hall.

They stepped into a private lounge, where a small group of men sat in leather chairs, expensive cigars in hand.

At the center sat Damian Rothschild.

A smirk played on his lips. "I was wondering how long it would take for you to follow orders."

Jackim crossed his arms. "I don't take orders."

The men chuckled, but there was no warmth in their laughter.

Damian leaned forward. "Tell me, Jackim. What exactly do you want?"

Jackim held his gaze. "I could ask you the same thing."

Damian's eyes darkened. "You're an outsider in this world. A nobody. And yet, you walk around as if you own the place."

Jackim smirked. "Maybe that's because I don't see anyone worth bowing to."

The room fell silent.

One of the men stood, his fists clenched. "You've got a smart mouth, kid."

Jackim didn't move. "And you've got a short temper."

Damian chuckled, breaking the tension. "Relax, Carter." He turned back to Jackim. "You've got guts. I'll give you that."

He poured himself another glass of wine. "But guts alone won't save you."

Jackim's expression remained unreadable. "Maybe not. But I've survived worse."

Damian studied him for a moment before nodding. "Fine. Let's see how long you last."

With that, the conversation was over.

Jackim turned and walked out of the lounge, his heart steady, his mind sharper than ever.

This was just the beginning.

And he was ready.