The city had a strange way of talking about people it did not understand.It did not whisper; it roared in news and fame.By morning, the name Ghost of Wealth was everywhere. The news, the stock groups, the private Telegram chats—everyone was repeating the same mystery. A faceless investor who turned dying businesses into gold overnight, who exposed corporate fraud like it was a pastime, who moved money faster than the market could track it.William sat alone in the corner of Nora’s café, stirring his coffee without drinking it. The café smelled of roasted beans and cheap vanilla syrup. People came and went, but nobody paid him much attention. That was good. He did not need attention, not now.Across from him, a small television played the morning financial news.“Anonymous sources are calling him the Ghost of Wealth,” the reporter said. “A shadow investor who appears out of nowhere, manipulating markets, then vanishing before anyone can trace the trail.”William’s lips twitched sli

The sound of paper sliding against the wooden floor pulled William out of his half-sleep. He blinked and turned toward the door. Lying just beyond the mat was a single black envelope. He stared at it for a moment, his mind still trying to wake up. The envelope looked out of place—too clean, too deliberate. He walked over, picked it up, and felt the cold texture between his fingers. It had no return address, no markings, nothing to suggest who sent it. He tore it open and unfolded the single sheet inside. There was only one short line written in bold black ink: > Stay away from Hamilton Industries. William’s grip tightened slightly on the paper. For a few seconds, he said nothing. Then a faint static hummed in his ear, and the familiar mechanical voice returned. > “Threat detected. Unknown sender. Possible link to Gregory Hamilton.” “I figured as much,” William said quietly. > “Recommended action: disengage immediately. Probability of further attacks—eighty-three percent.” He e

The afternoon sun spilled across the marble floor of the restaurant, turning the glass walls into mirrors. William adjusted the cuffs of his shirt and watched the city from the corner of his eye. He was not here to enjoy the view.The waiter guided him toward a private table by the window. Gregory Hamilton was already there, wearing a crisp gray suit that looked expensive even by the restaurant’s standards. His silver watch gleamed as he lifted his glass for a slow sip of wine.“William Hudson,” Gregory said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “It is about time we met properly.”William took his seat. “You made it sound like an invitation I couldn’t refuse,” he continued. “ Besides, we have met once in your mansion.”Gregory’s smile deepened. “I will take it that you left that day because of my son's outburst.”A faint buzz echoed in William’s mind.> [System Alert: High-threat presence detected. Maintain caution.]He ignored it.Gregory leaned back. “You’ve been busy. Buying pro

William stared at the System notification on his screen, eyes narrowing at the message that had just appeared.> Acquire ten percent of Hamilton Industries within sixty days. Reward: ten million dollars.A slow grin crept across his face. The war had officially begun.He leaned back in his chair, letting the city lights from the penthouse spill over him. The hum of the automated air system and the faint clatter of traffic below did nothing to distract him. The challenge felt alive, almost tangible, like the pulse of the city itself had synchronized with his heartbeat.“Ten percent,” he muttered quietly. “Sixty days. That is not just buying stock. That is infiltration.”> [Assessment: Host anticipates high-resistance from Hamilton hierarchy. Recommend strategic approach. Suggested tools: financial leverage, insider analysis, media influence.]William’s fingers hovered above the keyboard. He had faced powerful men before, but Gregory Hamilton was a different caliber. The man ran a kingd