The grandfather clock in the corridor of the luxury mainland mansion struck exactly 3:00 AM. The house was completely dark and quiet, but inside the private lounge, a single dim orange lamp cast a long, weary shadow across the floorboards.Chief Solomon sat in his heavy leather armchair. He wasn't wearing his starched uniform with the golden epaulets, and he wasn't holding his golden-plated service pistol. He was dressed in a simple local wrapper, his massive chest bare, his breathing slow and heavy.He was not sleeping. He had not slept a full hour in four straight days.His eyes were bloodshot, surrounded by dark rings of pure, psychological exhaustion. He reached out to lift his glass of whiskey, but his large, calloused fingers trembled slightly against the glass. Every time he closed his eyes, the jungle inside his head came alive. He saw the face of his young bodyguard collapsing from the sniper round; he saw the red graphs of the frozen container ships; he saw the political traps General Bello was actively burying under his feet [INDEX].For twenty years, Chief Solomon had been an untouchable god of force. But General Bello was not an ordinary animal. He didn't fight with tanks; he was a silent, destructive ghost inside the system who was wearing the old General out piece by piece, dropping a fresh crisis the moment the old one was cleared [INDEX].The lounge door creaked open softly. Amina walked inside, her long nightwear dragging against the rug. She didn't turn on the main lights, and she didn't ask any loud questions. She just walked straight to his chair, sat gently on the wide leather armrest, and placed her soft hand on his tense, trembling shoulder."Papa," Amina whispered, her calm, beautiful eyes filled with a deep, heavy sorrow as she looked at his haggard face. "You haven't slept for days. Your skin is hot. You are wearing yourself to the grave."Chief Solomon slowly leaned his massive, battle-scarred head against his daughter's arm. In the dark sanctuary of the room, the terrifying Godfather of the nation completely dropped his armor. He let out a long, broken sigh that sounded like a dying motor."My baby... my wife..." Solomon murmured, his deep voice sounding hollow and cracked with raw exhaustion. "Bello is not an ordinary man. He is a demon inside the data network. If I close my eyes for one second, he will leak another document, manipulate another platoon routing, and pull the plug on our entire family. I built this country with my blood... but the system he controls is choking me."Amina just held him tighter, her gentle fingers stroking his grey hair, acting as his only safe shield while the entire federal state machinery was hunting his peace [INDEX].Standing in the pitch-black shadows of the hallway corridor, Adekunle watched the scene through the half-open door. He saw his invincible, warlord father breaking down under the weight of sleepless nights. He saw his sister holding up a shattered monument. A cold, ruthless clarity suddenly settled into Adekunle's corporate-kingpin brain.His father was a genius with tanks and barracks discipline, but he was completely blind in this modern data war. If they kept playing General Bello's game, the old man's heart would fail before the next election.Adekunle slowly backed away from the door, pulling out his glowing tablet as he walked downstairs to the security room where Sledge and Corporal Titus were waiting. His face was a mask of pure, uncompromising vengeance."Titus... Sledge... change the layout completely," Adekunle hissed, his voice dropping into a chillingly quiet, deadly pitch. "My papa is fighting a physical war, but Bello is destroying his mind. We bypass the military high command tonight. Sledge, mobilize the mainland hackers and our port telecom contacts. We are going to track General Bello's secret intelligence server lines and cut his digital cables straight from the street level. If that novice wants to give my father sleepless nights... we are going to leave his entire shadow network completely blind in the dark.
