Chapter 23: The Financial Empire
The Miami Airbnb had evolved from temporary shelter into a war room. Spreadsheets covered Elijah's laptop screen like battle plans, each column representing another calculated step toward financial stability. The numbers were brutally simple: monthly power costs averaging $18,000, Gus's income covering $15,000, leaving a shortfall of $3,000 that grew larger each month as his abilities required increasingly expensive applications.
Unsustainable. The Entity's cosmic rent was bankrupting him despite his association with one of the Southwest's most profitable criminal enterprises.
Elijah opened his mental catalogue of potential targets—wealthy criminals identified through months of careful observation and supernatural reconnaissance. Three names stood out like opportunities written in blood: shipping magnate Theodore Lansing, real estate developer Viktor Kozlov, pharmaceutical CEO Dr. Amanda Chen.
Time to monetize suffering.
"The Entity has finally completed my transformation. I'm about to become exactly what it intended—a predator using supernatural advantages to exploit the vulnerable. The irony is suffocating: my targets are criminals, but so am I. There's no moral high ground here, just survival mathematics."
The Miami Yacht Club at sunset looked like a postcard from hell—crystalline waters reflecting golden light while predators in expensive suits negotiated human misery over cocktails. Theodore Lansing held court at the bar, his shipping empire built on legitimate cargo and illegal supplements that never appeared on manifests.
Elijah approached with the practiced confidence of someone whose family owned oil wells. Designer suit, expensive watch, the costume of inherited wealth that opened doors and loosened tongues.
"Theodore Lansing?" Elijah extended his hand. "Marcus Chen, Chen Holdings. I'm considering investments in maritime logistics."
Lansing's handshake was firm, calculating. "Always happy to discuss opportunities with serious investors."
The moment their skin touched, Elijah activated his most expensive power.
Leverage Finder scanning Theodore Lansing...
The secrets crashed into his consciousness like a tsunami of criminal incompetence:
Subject operating cocaine smuggling operation through legitimate shipping manifests. Bribes paid to harbor officials totaling $2.3 million annually. Hidden assets worth $40 million in Cayman Islands accounts. Murder of business partner Raymond Torres in 2006 staged as boating accident.
Tier 3 secret. Cost: $14,000.
Elijah maintained his investment smile while his bank balance bled another fourteen thousand dollars. But Lansing's secrets were worth ten times the cost—enough evidence to send him to federal prison for multiple lifetimes.
"Fascinating operation you've built," Elijah said, accepting a scotch he had no intention of drinking. "I'll need to review some documentation before making any commitments."
Three days later, Lansing received an anonymous package: USB drive containing cargo manifests with hidden compartments clearly marked, banking records from three Cayman accounts, and photographs of him meeting with known cartel representatives.
The accompanying note was brief: $100,000 in Bitcoin to the attached address, or this goes to DEA Miami field office. You have 48 hours.
Probability Assessment: Will Theodore Lansing pay the demanded amount?
89% probability of payment.
Cost: $2,000.
The money arrived in thirty-six hours. Elijah felt nothing as he watched the blockchain transaction complete—no guilt, no satisfaction, just the mechanical relief of a problem solved through applied leverage.
This was survival. Nothing more.
The charity gala at the Biltmore Hotel buzzed with Miami's elite pretending to care about causes while networking their way toward greater obscenity. Viktor Kozlov dominated a corner table, his real estate empire funded through insurance fraud and Russian mob connections that made him untouchable by conventional law enforcement.
Elijah engineered an accidental collision near the hors d'oeuvres table, wine splashing across Kozlov's designer tuxedo in a moment of perfectly orchestrated clumsiness.
"God, I'm so sorry," Elijah said, providing napkins and physical contact. "Let me pay for the cleaning."
Kozlov's accent carried the precision of someone who'd learned English through violence. "Accidents happen. But you can make it up by buying me a drink."
Leverage Finder scanning Viktor Kozlov...
Subject committed arson insurance fraud on three Miami properties between 2004-2007. Connected to Bratva operations through cousin Dmitri Kozlov. Murdered business partner Elena Vasquez in 2003, staged as drug overdose. Currently laundering money through luxury condo developments.
Tier 3 secret. Cost: $11,500.
Another financial hemorrhage for information that could destroy a man's life. Elijah's smile never wavered as they discussed real estate trends and investment opportunities.
The demand came forty-eight hours later: $75,000 or watch his empire burn through federal investigation. Kozlov's response was predictable—he tried to hire a hitman to eliminate his blackmailer.
Elijah had anticipated this. His Probability Assessment had predicted a 23% chance of violent retaliation. The second message included the hitman's name, his police connections, and photographic evidence of their meeting.
I'm three steps ahead of you, Viktor. Pay, or burn. Your choice.
The money transferred within hours, followed by laundering through cryptocurrency exchanges that made the funds functionally untraceable.
Dr. Amanda Chen's pharmaceutical empire specialized in rushing experimental drugs through FDA approval while conducting illegal human trials in developing countries. Her company's board meetings looked like war crimes tribunals, but she wore her humanitarian awards like armor against accountability.
The business conference at the Four Seasons provided perfect cover. Elijah introduced himself as a potential investor in biotech startups, his surname creating instant rapport with someone who valued ethnic networking over ethical boundaries.
Leverage Finder scanning Dr. Amanda Chen...
Subject conducting unauthorized human trials in Guatemala and Bangladesh. Insider trading based on trial results totaling $12 million profit. Bribing FDA officials to expedite approvals for dangerous compounds. Clinical data falsified on seven different medications.
Tier 4 secret. Cost: $22,000.
Nuclear-tier information. Enough to destroy not just Chen's career but potentially trigger congressional investigations into pharmaceutical industry corruption. The cost made Elijah's remaining resources scream, but the potential return justified the expenditure.
The demand was proportional: $150,000 for silence, or watch congressional hearings destroy everything she'd built through human suffering.
Chen paid without negotiation.
By month's end, Elijah's financial situation had transformed completely. Three hundred twenty thousand dollars liquid, one hundred eighty thousand in reserves after expenses and operational costs. He'd established Cayman Islands accounts, hired a financial consultant who accepted cash payments without questions, and created LLC shells that made his money functionally invisible to government oversight.
The laptop screen showed numbers that represented freedom from the Entity's financial stranglehold. But as Elijah stared at the account balances, he realized what he'd become: exactly what the Curator had intended from the beginning.
A predator using supernatural advantages to exploit the vulnerable. The fact that his targets were criminals didn't change the fundamental mathematics of exploitation. He was a parasite feeding on parasites, each transaction making him more monstrous while keeping him alive.
"There's no moral high ground in survival. I've become a villain who pays rent to stay alive, justifying extortion as 'taxing criminals' while knowing it's theft with supernatural targeting. The Entity's corruption is complete."
His phone buzzed with a new message—cash transfer confirmation from an offshore account. Blood money converting to digital currency, then washing clean through investment portfolios that made it indistinguishable from legitimate wealth.
The irony was suffocating. He'd gained financial stability by becoming the kind of monster his former self would have reported to authorities.
That evening, returning to his Airbnb, Elijah found a handwritten note slipped under his door. The paper was expensive, the handwriting feminine and precise:
I know what you're doing. We should talk. —H.M.
No return address. No phone number. Just initials that made his heart race with possibilities both terrifying and intoxicating.
Omniscient Locator: Hannah McKay.
Location: Miami Botanical Gardens, greenhouse section.
Cost: $300.
The vision hit immediately—a woman with auburn hair tending exotic plants, her movements suggesting familiarity with beauty that killed. Hannah McKay, poisoner and artist, the woman who'd shared Dexter's bed and darkness.
She'd reached out first. The Entity's timeline was accelerating, bringing him face-to-face with someone who might understand the weight of necessary monstrosity.
Elijah stared at the note, feeling something he'd thought the Entity had burned out of him completely: anticipation. Not fear of discovery, but hope for understanding.
Maybe he wasn't destined to navigate this nightmare alone.
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