Page 198 of Kentrell

What I saw made me blink. Twice.

A modern estate…

Set back beyond the tree line like it was hiding on purpose.

All dark stone and glass.

Clean angles and wide symmetry.

It didn’t scream wealth… it whispered it.

The kind of house that didn’t beg to be noticed… but dared you to ask who lived there.

It looked like something straight out ofArchitectural Digest.

Not a single shutter crooked. Not a single line out of place.

A curved driveway wrapped around a circular garden bed, landscaped to perfection—even with winter creeping in.

Kentrell pulled up smooth.

Parked like he’d done it a thousand times. No hesitation. No fumble.

Just silence.

I sat there… staring through the window… my chest pulling tight with a new kind of confusion.

This wasn’t just nice.

This wascurated.

Secluded.

Strategically off the grid.

Nothing in the files I’d read on him hinted at this.

I remembered scrolling through his property holdings…

Multi-units on the South Side.

A few LLCs tied to small businesses.

Some ghost ownerships.

Passive income streams.

Hustle money.

Butthis?

This was power.

And power like this didn’t come from rental properties and auto shops.

This kind of privacy… this kind of security…

Came from something else.

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