Chapter Nine-The ledger of control

The cold of the marble floor seemed to seep into my boots as I marched out of Khaid’s reception room. I didn't spare a glance at the gate, I just kept walking until the high, black steel was behind me. The cool night air hit me, but it couldn't extinguish the fire of my humiliation.

“Tomorrow, you will wait four hours. And bring me a list of all your ingredients.”

He hadn't just defeated me. He was demanding the ledger of my defeat. Giving him my ingredients wasn't just losing my secret, it was giving him the ability to reproduce my product, eliminate me as a supplier, and then leverage the information against anyone else who dared to cross him.

My amethyst necklace, signifying royalty. His correction: “It means you are poor, and you are loud about it.”

He saw through every piece of armor I wore. He saw the desperation beneath the defiance.

I hailed a taxi, one of the few that dared to operate near The Diamond Heights and sank into the worn seat. I didn’t know where I was going, just away from Lot 27.

I pulled out the leather bag. It contained the money for today's supply. Far more than the price of two bottles and the original wad he'd paid to the Landlord. I was carrying a small fortune, all of it tainted by Khaid's ownership.

I dialed Bensjasmin. It was late, but I knew she’d be awake, pacing, worried after my desperate morning call.

“Satera! Thank God” she breathed, relief sharp in her voice. “What happened? You said you were in trouble, and then nothing. I just got cleared for an emergency leave. I was about to call the police, Khaid or no Khaid.”

“Don't. The police won't get past his hedges” I said, my voice flat. “I was gassed. And then I was made to wait three and a half hours for the privilege of seeing his face.”

“Gassed?”

“Mild sedative, apparently. That was yesterday. His security system didn't like my fake name. But that's not the worst of it. The waiting, today? That was his penalty for the insult at the club.” I clenched my fist around the bag strap.

“The real punishment is tomorrow.”

“What is it? More money? Another apology?”

“Worse. He wants my ingredient list” I whispered, the words heavy and metallic. “My whole formula. He said tomorrow I will wait four hours, and I will bring him the list, or Kael finds me.”

A sharp intake of breath was the only response on Bensjasmin's end. We both knew the weight of that threat. It wasn't just my life at risk. It was the life of every person I'm close to.

“He wants to own you. He doesn't want the product. He wants the source of control” Bensjasmin finally said, her voice strained but rational. “You can't give it to him, Satera. That's your only shield.”

“If I don't, he'll disappear us both! He has people everywhere, Jasmin. He just proved it by paying off my Landlord and having the security systems of his entire fortress recognize me as a threat!”

“Then we have to buy time. We give him something, but not everything” she insisted.

“Listen to me, Satera. You know all those old wives' tales you mix in? The common, cheap roots that just bulk out the aphrodisiac? Give him those. The filler ingredients. Make the list look comprehensive, professional, but omit the three or four most critical, rare components, the ones that actually make the serum work”

I leaned my head back against the taxi window, closing my eyes. “He's Khaid Jager. He's not an idiot. He'll test it.”

“Then we make it look like you are the failure, not the formula” Bensjasmin countered quickly, her teacher-brain switching into tactical mode. “Tell him the strength is linked to a very specific, manual process only you can perform, one that involves temperature or pressure, something impossible to replicate in a lab. You become the necessary variable.”

It was a desperate gamble. I'd be selling a lie to a man who specialized in cold, hard truth. But it was the only way to protect my formula and protect our lives.

“And what happens when I walk back in there tomorrow, knowing I'm going to wait four hours and hand over a fabricated document?” I asked, a wave of exhaustion washing over me.

“You show up” Bensjasmin said firmly. “You prove you're compliant, which keeps him from unleashing Kael. And you find his weakness, Satera. Everyone has one. Even a dictator.”

“You sound like you've been watching too many action movies again” I murmured, a faint, dry smile touching my lips.

“No, I’ve been dealing with the Vice-Principal, Jordan all day. Khaid Jager is just a bigger, richer version of that kind of toxic control. Now, come home. We need to brew a very convincing lie.”

“Where are you?”

“I'm just leaving the hospital. I branched them while returning from school?” I could hear her sigh over the phone.

“How is she?”

“The same old vegetable, I guess” Bensjasmin responded nonchalantly.

“I’m so sorry”

“Oh here we go again” She chuckled faintly. Trying to make light of the situation. “I would have come to your place tonight but for the hospital visit. Right now, I just want to jump on my bed and rest” She yawned over the phone.

“I will soon be home also. Good night love” I blew her kisses.

“Catch ya. Muahhh” Then she ended the call.

“Is that your friend? You two seem to be fond of each other” The taxi driver interrupted my thoughts.

Oh no, I don't want to be chatty so I just muttered a no. He took that as a sign and the rest of the drive was satisfactorily silent.

★

The taxi lurched to a halt, and Satera fumbled for the thick wad of money to settle the fare. Every move was an agonizing effort. She felt like a feverish kitten. Weak and delicate. The adrenaline from her confrontation with Khaid was utterly spent. All she wanted was to plop on her bed and rest it out.

She stumbled into her compound. Her steps were now slow, wobbly paces like the movements of a puppet whose strings had been cut. She reached her door and reached for her key inside her bag but before she could insert it, a tiny push of her fingertips was enough to send the door swinging inward. It hadn't been locked.

A cold wave of dread washed over her, replacing the exhaustion. Taking stealthy, calculated steps, she reached for the light switch in the cozy sitting room.

The sudden flood of light revealed not a home, but a disaster scene.

“What’s this?” The question was a weak, high-pitched stutter that dissolved in her throat.

Her small world had been violently annihilated. The television lay on its screen, shattered glass gleaming wickedly on the dusty floor. Her cushion chairs were overturned, their floral stuffing spilling out like guts. The wooden center table was reduced to a spray of jagged splinters. Even the rickety dining table was shredded. The chaos was absolute, unnatural. She could see her pots and pans from the kitchen tossed carelessly near the front door, and the door to her own bedroom had been dislocated, hanging uselessly on a single hinge.

This wasn't a casual theft. This was a message.

A choked scream fought its way up her throat, but she clamped a palm over her mouth, her eyes darting into the deep, disturbed shadows of the wrecked apartment. What if the thief is still in here? The thought jolted her out of her shock. She didn't disembark. she fled, stumbling backward out of the doorway. She ran as fast as her aching, feverish legs could carry her.

Frantically, she pulled out her phone and called Bensjasmin, the line ringing out unanswered again and again. She flagged down a passing taxi, her voice cracking as she gave her friend's address.

She was pounding on Bensjasmin’s door, calling her name in breathless, ragged gasps. “Jasmin... Bensjasmin!” when her phone buzzed.

The text was a punch to her gut, but a joyful one. “I'm on my way back to the hospital. I got a call that my mum woke up.”

A wave of pure, exhausted joy for her friend flooded her. “Poor girl. I'm so happy for you.” But what about her? Her home was destroyed, her best friend was gone, and she had nowhere to go.”

The most ridiculous, terrifying idea surfaced, chilling her to the bone. “No, no” she pleaded to herself, rubbing her aching temples. That's not right. But reality hammered her. She had no choice, and no one else.

She flagged down another taxi, wincing as the driver overcharged her. This time, her head felt like it was splitting, and a low, persistent shiver racked her body. She rubbed her arms, trying to will the cold out of her fevered skin.

“I can't take you farther than this, ma'am” the driver announced, parking abruptly.

“Okay. Thank you” she mumbled, pushing herself out. She watched the man race away, tires squealing, as if pursued by the devil himself.

Then she started walking, heavy yet delicate, like a bag of salt tearing at the seams. She soon saw the towering, impersonal elegance of the Lot 27 gate. Who on earth could have thought she would eventually seek shelter in her enemy's abode? But the cold, hard desperation had extinguished the last spark of her pride.

She forced her feet toward the black gate. As she drew near, her legs finally failed her. The exhaustion, the fever, the shock of her ruined home. It all converged. Then she slipped, slowly, deliberately, like a tick-time bomb finally winding down. Her fingers scraped weakly against the cold, smooth metal of the gate. She hit the harsh cold floor, the impact jarring her to the core.

“Plea...se,” she mumbled, the syllable barely audible. A plea for rescue directed at the fortress she had sworn to defy. Her eyelids felt like lead weights, and they closed involuntarily.