Atlanta, Georgia – Club Eden

The night was young, but Club Eden was already packed—the music pulsed through the building, bass vibrating against the walls as a sea of wealthy clientele filled the private lounges and VIP sections. Madam DeVille sat at the top, overlooking her empire, a glass of cognac in her hand, a knowing smirk playing on her lips.

Tonight wasn’t just another night. It was a statement.

Madam had just secured a deal that would cement her control over Atlanta’s underground entertainment scene. A high-end casino partnership, one that would ensure that every major gambler, hustler, and power player in the city kept their money flowing through her businesses, her clubs, her dancers.

But the celebration was cut short when Blue walked up, tension in his posture.

“Madam,” he said, voice low, leaning in close. “We got a problem.”

She set her glass down slowly. “What kind of problem?”

Blue hesitated for half a second. A dangerous move. Madam’s gaze sharpened, and he got the message.

“Some of our regular high rollers? They’ve been spending time at another spot—not just for drinks, but for the girls, the entertainment. The money’s leaking out. Fast.”

Madam’s jaw tensed. “Who the hell is bold enough to try and compete with me in my own city?”

Blue hesitated again. “That’s the thing. We don’t know who runs it yet. It came out of nowhere. An abandoned club that was **dead for years—now it’s high-class, exclusive, and pulling some of our people.”

Madam exhaled slowly, her fingers tapping against her glass. Someone was stepping on her turf.

“Find out who the hell they are and shut that shit down,” she said smoothly.

Blue nodded, already on the move.

Madam leaned back in her chair, watching the dancers below. Whoever this was, they had no idea what kind of war they just started.