2025-04-05 03:53:48Inside the back seat of a custom black Mercedes Maybach 4MATIC, Nolan Rhys sat, dressed in a sleek tailored suit, with his face half-hidden beneath dark sunglasses.
The city skyline blurred behind the tinted bulletproof glass as the car cruised down the highway toward Rhys Tech Global headquarters. The luxury ride purred with a whisper, while the man inside prepared himself for the evening’s grand affair—The Rhys Tech Ascendancy Gala. The gala was less about innovation, but more about image—a glittering spectacle celebrating the company’s meteoric rise, attended by dignitaries, celebrities, and the elite of high society. Hosted under Evelyn’s dazzling banner, it was the kind of event where champagne flowed, cameras flashed, and quiet power plays unfolded behind velvet smiles. And though Nolan had overseen much of the groundwork that made the night possible, he was not its star. His wife was. Meanwhile back in the vehicle, his phone rang—it was a direct encrypted line. The caller ID flashed the words: Amir Kadirian, a billionaire oil mogul and politician. Nolan answered with a calm voice. “Your Excellency.” The deep voice of Amir Kadirian cracked through the speakers, laced with urgency and his thick Arabian accent. “Ah, Amir... Thank the heavens you answer quick, yes?” “I’m always available for you, Amir,” Nolan replied smoothly. “Listen, listen, my friend... I need those, ah... what you call... those tech drilling beasts. The—eh—what you named them again?” Nolan’s lips curved slightly. “The Rhys Drillex Titans. The most advanced oil-drilling machines in the market.” “Yes, yes! Correct, that's the one! I need them for my new oil well in Dahman Wadi... It’s bursting with oil, ya akhi, like river from Jannah! But I need the Titans. How many you have now? Ready to go?” Nolan glanced at the digital tablet on his lap and replied, “Only three Titans are ready for immediate shipping.” A brief silence came. Then a loud sigh. “Yaa Khaliq... Only three? I am needing three, ya Nolan! Not less, not more... three! Full power, yaani! I want to drill the ground like I drill my enemies, fahimt?” Nolan chuckled lightly. “Mr Kadirian three are all we have, Amir. But... I can do something.” “Naam? Tell me fast, brother.” Amir Kadirian sounded eager. “I can have three more Titans produced instantly—no delay. But for that, I’ll need to activate our emergency production channel. That will cost extra. Specialized manpower. Overnight logistics. Priority scheduling.” “Aiwa, aiwa... how much we talking about, ya Nolan? Speak to me straight. I no like the snake tongue, you know this.” Nolan’s eyes gleamed beneath the shades. “Each Titan is valued at $9.5 million USD. But for instant production, it comes with an additional $2.5 million per unit. That’s $12 million each. Three units. Total $36 million. No compromise on quality. No delay.” There was a low grunt from the other end of the line, followed by a chuckle. “La mushkila... no problem at all, akhi! I send the money today. Just make the Titans strong like lions, and fast like falcons. My ships will come for them in seven days, insha’Allah.” Nolan nodded. “You have my word. I’ll see to it personally.” “Barakallahu feek, Nolan Rhys... May Allah bless your brain. You’re not like these foolish men in suits.” The call ended. As the vehicle pulled into the underground parking of Rhys Tech Global headquarters, Nolan leaned back with a calm smile. Inside the sleek, custom black Mercedes Maybach 4MATIC, the car came to a smooth stop. Nolan Rhys, still calm and composed, adjusted his dark sunglasses as he prepared for the evening ahead. The driver, a tall, professional-looking man in a black suit, stepped out of his seat. He moved around the car, opened the back door, and held it open for Nolan. Without a word, Nolan stepped out of the vehicle, his polished shoes clicked against the asphalt as he exited. He took a brief moment to look around before his gaze settled on the man who now stood at his side. Michael Walters, Nolan’s trusted assistant, had been waiting for this very moment. With one hand, Michael held a bouquet of flowers—vibrant, beautiful blooms that spoke of elegance. In his other hand, he carefully held an expensive diamond necklace, the diamonds gleamed with a brilliance that could catch the eye of even the most discerning observer. Worth three million dollars, it was a gift Nolan had planned for his wife. Nolan nodded at Michael. "The necklace is beautiful." Nelson said. Michael closed the necklace case and handed it over along with the flowers with a respectful smile. Nolan accepted them, and his heart was filled with anticipation. “Thank you, Michael,” Nolan said quietly, as he walked toward the entrance of the building. Without waiting for a reply, Nolan entered the grand lobby of Rhys Tech Global, heading directly to the elevator. The building was bustling with excitement—the sounds of chatter and laughter echoed through the halls. It was the night of the Rhys Tech Ascendancy Gala, an event celebrating the company’s rise to one of the top three tech companies in Bellwick. As the elevator doors closed, Nolan’s mind was fixed on one person: his wife, Evelyn. She had inherited the company from her father after his sudden death, becoming the sole heir to a vast empire. However, Nolan was always by her side. He had worked tirelessly behind the scenes to help his wife’s business boom, especially as she struggled to balance the weight of the responsibility thrust upon her. He had been the silent force, the steady hand guiding her through the challenges that came with running such a high-profile business. Tonight, however, was more than just business—it was personal. Nolan had dedicated countless hours and energy to this moment, and now, with the gala in full swing, he couldn’t wait to share the celebration with her. More so, he couldn't wait to speak about the new deal he had struck with Amir Kadirian. His heart raced as the elevator ascended. He wanted to hold her, dance with her, kiss her and feel that spark they had once shared. Tonight, he wanted to make her feel special. He wanted their love to shine as brightly as the company’s success. The doors opened, and Nolan stepped out into the grand hall. The atmosphere was electric, filled with laughter, clinking glasses, and flashes of photographers capturing every moment. The long rows of tables were covered with fine linen, each corner of the room was adorned with extravagant decorations. Guests in expensive suits and glittering dresses mingled, celebrating the rise of Rhys Tech Global. But none of that mattered. Not really. Nolan’s eyes darted through the crowd, searching for his wife. He barely noticed the others around him, too consumed by the thought of her. He longed to find her, to hold her close, and share this moment of triumph. He could almost see the look on her face when she saw him—the look that always made him feel like the luckiest man alive. His heart skipped a beat when he finally spotted her. Evelyn stood near the stage, talking to a small group of people, with her laughter ringing out like music. Nolan’s chest swelled with pride, but his footsteps faltered when he saw who was standing beside her. It was Zahir Malikyan The son of Abdul Malikyan, one of the wealthiest and most influential oil tycoons in Bellwick. The man was a familiar face, one Nolan had met at several high-profile events. But what caught Nolan off guard now was the way Zahir had his arm around Evelyn’s waist, holding her so close. Nolan’s face reddened, his heart sinking as he watched them. Evelyn, his wife, in the arms of another man. The bouquet of flowers and diamond necklace felt heavier in his hands. What made him confused was the fact that she appeared to be so comfortable with the Zahir's grip on her waist.
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FIVE MILLION REASONS TO RUN
Three days had passed since the folder appeared. Three long, restless days.Nolan hadn’t eaten much. He hadn’t slept right. His mind had been buried in code and paranoia.He had gone deeper than ever into the Blockchain market, studying every move, every shift, every whisper in the network.He watched as other hackers took Lord Atherton's offer. And he watched them vanish—silent logouts, ghost accounts, blacklisted IPs. Just... gone.But he didn’t touch the folder.He kept his promise to himself.He didn’t click.Now, as soft blue morning light poured into the small vents near the bunker ceiling, Nolan leaned back in his old office chair. The glow from the screens around him no longer felt like pressure—they just felt like light.He stretched his arms above his head, bones cracking slightly. A long sigh escaped his chest.“That’s it,” he whispered. “I’m done for today.”He saved a few final logs, closed some private browser tunnels, and powered down two of his older machines.The bunk
THE GLOWING CAGE
Right inside Nolan's secret bunker, the folder glowed on Nolan’s screen:NATIONAL FUND — PRIORITY ACCESSIt looked harmless. Just another file. But to Nolan, it was like a burning ember—bright, hot, impossible to ignore.He didn’t touch it.Not yet.His fingers, were usually fast and sure as they typed across his keyboard, now hovered in mid-air. Frozen. Hesitant.His gut—the place where his instincts usually spoke loud and clear—was quiet. Worse than quiet. It was tied in a tight, painful knot.He sat in his command room, the place he had built with his own hands. A dark, humming space filled with glowing screens and the quiet buzz of machines. Wires twisted across the floor like living things, connecting everything together. This was the heart of the Ghost Network—a secret system Nolan had built alone, line by line, byte by byte. It was his weapon, his creation, his answer to the powerful digital regime that ruled their world. Specifically the Blockchain market.Now, the regime w
A BYTE OF BAIT
The cameras were rolling.Reporters filled the press room like bees in a hive, buzzing with questions. Notepads flipped open. Camera flashes exploded. Some stood on tiptoe just to get a better view of the man who was about to speak.At the podium stood the Minister of Finance—short, sharp-eyed, and polished to perfection. His navy-blue suit looked like it had been pressed between glass. His round glasses sat perfectly on the bridge of his nose. When he opened his mouth, the room fell silent like someone had cut the power.“Today,” he said, his voice smooth but strong, “we launch the most powerful economic initiative in our nation’s digital future.”The words bounced across the walls like thunder.“The National Digital Opportunity Fund—a groundbreaking initiative worth over 300 billion dollars—is not just about money. It’s about rebuilding the future from the code up.”He let that hang for a beat.“This program will support decentralized startups, offer zero-tax crypto incentives, fu
GHOST NETWORK BREACHED
He murmured, his deep voice was barely above a whisper.“Precisely,” Nolan said, nodding slowly. “This isn’t just spying. This is a declaration. They want me to know I’m vulnerable… that they can reach me—anywhere, anytime. And this isn’t a normal hitman style, not entirely. Too… personal. Too taunting. Too haunting.”Just as the word “haunting” left Nolan’s lips, the lights in the room—and the entire mansion—flickered, then plunged them into pitch-black silence.In one fluid motion, Anya’s hand flew to the pistol holstered at her side, her stance shifting into combat readiness. Her eyes scanned every shadow, every flicker of movement in the darkness. Boris stepped forward, placing his massive frame between the door and the rest of the room. His breathing slowed, his muscles coiled like a spring. Mr. Jethro didn’t move from his seat, but his shoulders straightened, and his eyes narrowed—his body language was now more alert than ever.No one spoke. No one dared.Outside the meeting r
THE SILENCE SCREAMS
Nolan stared at the screen. We see you. The words burned into his thoughts.His hands trembled. The footage had shown him in every room—his study, his kitchen, even his bunker. That wasn’t just a security breach. That was a message.Someone had been inside. Someone skilled enough to leave no trace.The lights flickered again. He looked up fast, eyes scanning every corner. Was it a power issue—or were they watching right now?The walls felt closer. The silence louder. His lab, once a safe place, now felt like a lie.He had swept his chamber, his lab and his balcony. He even asked some of the enforcers within his mansion to scan the area countless times. Nothing. No hidden devices, no signs of entry. And yet, the chip had proof. Clean, perfect video. From impossible angles.How did they do it? How long had they been there?He felt cold. Not from fear—but from the truth hitting him hard: he wasn’t alone. He hadn’t been for a while.This was more than spying. It was control.Nolan clenche
WE SEE YOU
Finally, with a deep breath, Nolan carefully lifted the box. It was surprisingly light, almost empty. He brought it inside, placing it gently on a clean, white cloth on his desk. He used a tiny, specialized pry tool to unseal the edges. The lid lifted with a soft click, revealing its contents. There was only one thing inside: a single, small, black data chip. It looked like a standard memory chip, but Nolan knew better than to trust appearances. This was clearly encrypted, likely with a level of security that would stump anyone else. But not him.He picked up the chip, feeling its cool, smooth surface against his gloved fingers. His mind raced. "If they wanted me dead," he thought, "I’d already be dead." This wasn't about killing him. This was about something else. A message. A warning. A declaration. But from whom? Elias Thorne? The Phantom Syndicate? Or someone else entirely? The questions swirled in his mind, each one leading to another dead end. Yet, there was a strange s
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