The Hustler’s Gamble

6 : A shocking twist

Jamal had finally made it. His first real estate project was a huge success, and he had earned a six-figure income. People in the industry were starting to take him seriously.

But success came with a price. And Jamal was about to learn just how high that price could be.

The Celebration and the Warning :

After the project closed, Deion threw a celebration party in a private lounge. The place was packed with business moguls, real estate sharks, and hustlers trying to get a piece of the next big deal.

Jamal sat in a VIP section, sipping on a glass of expensive whiskey, when Victor Diaz slid into the seat across from him.

"You did good, Carter," Diaz said, raising his drink. "Didn't think you had it in you."

Jamal smirked. "Ain't the first time people underestimated me."

Diaz nodded, but then his expression turned serious.

"Now that you've proven yourself, you're playing in a different league," he said. "And in this league, the rules are different."

Jamal frowned. "What are you saying?"

Diaz leaned in. "There's a reason guys like me, Marks, and the other big players stay on top," he said. "We don't just make money. We control who wins and who loses."

Jamal's stomach tightened. "Your success? It's cute," Diaz continued. "But if you want to keep winning, you'll need to make the right friends—and follow the right rules."

Jamal's jaw clenched. "I don't take orders from nobody."

Diaz smirked. "That's what they all say...at first."

Then he stood, adjusted his cufflinks, and patted Jamal on the shoulder.

"Enjoy your victory, Carter. But don't get too comfortable. You're in the game now. And in this

game? Nobody plays fair."

The Opportunity That Changed Everything :

A week later, Jamal got a call from an unknown number.

"This is Carter," he answered.

"Mr. Carter, my name is Damien Black," the voice said. "I represent a group of...let's call them 'silent investors.' They're interested in working with you."

Jamal frowned. "Silent investors?"

"Powerful people who like to stay in the shadows," Black said. "They back winners. And you, Mr. Carter? You just became one."

Jamal wasn't stupid. He knew this wasn't some ordinary business call. But he was also ambitious. And he wasn't about to turn down an opportunity—not without hearing more.

"I'm listening," Jamal said.

The Plot Twist: The Game Was Rigged All Along.

Jamal met Damien Black in a penthouse suite, overlooking the entire city. Black was smooth, dangerous, and unreadable.

He didn't waste time with small talk.

"The Kingston District project?" Black said, swirling a glass of bourbon. "You really thought you pulled that off on your own?"

Jamal tensed. "What do you mean?"

Black smirked. "Leonard Marks didn't invest because he believed in you. Victor Diaz didn't step in out of generosity. You were a test, Carter. And you passed."

Jamal's heart pounded. "You're saying...they set me up?"

Black nodded. "They wanted to see if you could hustle your way out of a trap. And you did. Which is why we're here."

Jamal's mouth went dry. "Who is 'we'?"

Black leaned in. "The people who actually run this city."

Jamal's world spun. This wasn't just real estate anymore. This was power. Control. The kind of influence that decided who won—and who disappeared.

And now, they wanted him in.

The Offer of a Lifetime :

Black slid a folder across the table.

"Inside is a $5 million development deal," he said. "It's yours. All you have to do...is say yes."

Jamal's fingers hovered over the folder. This was everything he had been chasing. Money. Status. Access to bigger deals.

But then he remembered Diaz's warning. The rules are different.

Jamal glanced up.

"And if I say no?"

Black's expression didn't change.

"Then you go back to being a nobody."

He sipped his drink.

"Trust me, Carter—you do not want to be a nobody in this city."

The Fine Print :

Jamal finally opened the folder, skimming through the contract inside. It looked legit—on the surface.

But the details made his stomach churn.

- The "silent investors" would own 51% of his company.

- They controlled which deals he could and couldn't take. - They expected complete loyalty—and no questions.

It wasn't an investment. It was ownership.

Jamal clenched his fists. He had fought too damn hard to be someone's pawn. "This ain't a deal," he said. "This is a damn trap."

Black chuckled. "It's the way the game is played, Carter."

Jamal's jaw tightened. "I play my own game."

Black's smile faded. He closed the folder and leaned back.

"Think carefully, Carter. Because if you walk away from this? You won't just be a nobody."

His eyes darkened. "You'll be an enemy."

A chill ran down Jamal's spine. The air felt heavy, like he had just stepped into dangerous territory.

But Jamal Carter had spent his whole life betting on himself. And he wasn't about to sell his soul —not for any amount of money.

He stood, straightened his suit, and slid the folder back across the table. "Find another puppet," he said.

Then he walked out.

The Fallout :

Jamal didn't sleep that night. His gut told him he had just made a dangerous enemy. And he was right.

The next morning, his business account was frozen. His phone blew up with calls—deals were being pulled, contracts mysteriously canceled.

By noon, it was clear: The "silent investors" had just blacklisted him from the industry. Everything he had built was about to crumble.

Jamal stared at his reflection in the mirror, fists clenched.

This was war.

And if they thought he was going to roll over? They were dead wrong. Because Jamal Carter didn't lose. He rebuilt.

And this time? He'd do it without them.