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Home / Urban / THE UNDERESTIMATED HEIR / THE GHOST IN THE DOME
THE GHOST IN THE DOME
Author: Victor Amos Regannez
last update2024-11-29 14:21:50

The room was electric with tension as the bidding began to escalate rapidly.

A man in a dark suit raised his hand and called out, “Four hundred million.”

“Six hundred million,” another voice added, this time from a woman dressed in a sleek red gown.

The prices climbed steadily as one wealthy individual after another placed their bids.

The excitement in the dome was palpable, with murmurs and gasps rising from the audience after each new offer.

Then, Jessica Zypher leaned forward in her chair, her green eyes flashed with confidence. She raised her hand elegantly and said loudly, “Three point five billion.”

A wave of astonishment rippled through the room at the sheer size of the bid. Jessica’s voice was calm and commanding, as though she was daring anyone to challenge her.

She smiled faintly, certain that she was taking control of the auction.

But the challenge came almost immediately. A voice rang out from across the room, powerful and confident. “Ten billion.”

The audience gasped i
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  • HOSTILE TAKEOVER OF THOUGHT

    "Wildest dreams?" Vincent interrupted, his voice was now a low, dangerous growl that seemed to vibrate in the very air. "Your 'wildest dreams' are child's play! My dreams involve the complete, absolute mastery of the human mind, the flawless orchestration of global perception! And you quibble over two trillion dollars? You call yourselves visionaries? You are nothing more than glorified accountants, squabbling over pennies while empires are forged!" His gaze swept over them, burning with an almost feral intensity. "I invited you all here not because I needed your money, but because I believed, for a fleeting moment, that you possessed the foresight to grasp the magnitude of this undertaking. Clearly, I was mistaken."Isabella Rossi slammed her fist on the table. "How dare you! We've been nothing but forthright! This isn't about foresight, Vincent, this is about reckless abandon! You're asking us to blind ourselves to all financial prudence and leap into an abyss because of your inf

  • MADNESS OR MASTERY

    "It's a bold ask, I know," Vincent said, his voice was calm despite the shock that rippled through the room. He allowed a faint, almost imperceptible smile to touch his lips, it was a mere ghost of the predatory expression he had worn moments before. "But think about the return. This isn't just a business; it's control. It's the ability to shape the world."Isabella scoffed, it was a harsh, humorless sound that cut through the lingering silence. "Control? At two trillion dollars, Vincent, like I said before that's not control, that's madness! We're investors, not philanthropists. We need a realistic projection, a detailed breakdown of revenue streams, not a sci-fi fantasy about 'shaping the world.' My shareholders would riot! My board would demand my head on a platter!" Her voice, usually composed, was edged with genuine alarm. "We're talking about committing more capital than some small nations possess! How can you justify such an outrageous figure without concrete guarantees?"M

  • TWO TRILLION GAMBIT

    Isabella leaned forward. "Well what I can say about this project is that it is a goldmine. What kind of revenue streams are we looking at from these packages? And how quickly can we penetrate the market? Are we talking about a few elite clients, or a broad corporate adoption?""The revenue potential is exponential, Isabella," Vincent affirmed. "We target the largest corporations, those willing to pay a premium for guaranteed market dominance. Penetration will be rapid, driven by the undeniable results. This isn't just about understanding consumers; it's about shaping their desires."Marcus Thorne interjected, "Alright, Vincent, I get the pitch. It sounds… ambitious. But what's the investor appeal? Why should we pour our resources into this? Convince me this isn't just another tech bubble waiting to burst."Vincent smiled, it was a confident, almost predatory expression. "Because, Marcus, this isn't a bubble. It's the next frontier of human influence. The investor appeal is undeniable.

  • PROJECT COGNIVAULT

    "I trust your journey was comfortable," Vincent continued, his voice smooth as silk. "We have much to discuss." Everyone was seated before he continued.The world, as you know, is at a crossroads. The pace of change, the demands on leadership, the sheer volume of information – it's overwhelming. Human potential, our most valuable asset, is being stretched to its breaking point. Stress, burnout, poor decision-making under pressure... these are the silent killers of empires."He leaned forward slightly, his hands were clasped on the table. "For too long, we have focused on physical health, on financial health. But what about mental capital? The very engine of innovation, of strategy, of progress? It remains largely untapped, unoptimized, and vulnerable."He paused, letting his words sink in. The CEOs listened, their expressions were a mix of curiosity and guarded skepticism. They knew Vincent Arceneaux didn't invite them for small talk."That," Vincent declared, his voice gaining a sub

  • THE WEIGHT OF INFLUENCE

    The sleek, obsidian towers of Arceneaux Enterprises pierced the morning sky like a declaration of absolute power. They stood in the heart of the Westwood's financial district, not merely as buildings, but as monuments to the Arceneaux family’s unyielding grip on the city's hidden levers. Today, however, these towers were not just a symbol; they were a destination for four very influential individuals in the federation, each carrying a heavy weight of apprehension and a subtle, almost imperceptible hum around their necks.Eleanor Vance, who was based in the north side of the federation was CEO of the formidable tech conglomerate, OmniCorp.She stepped out of her armored limousine. Her silver hair, cut in a sharp, modern bob, framed eyes that missed nothing. She adjusted the collar of her bespoke suit, her fingers brushing against the cool, polished surface of the pendant resting against her skin. It was a gift from Vincent Arceneaux himself, a seemingly innocuous piece of modern ar

  • THE FINAL JEWEL

    The air in the room seemed to thicken, charged with anticipation. This was the moment of truth, the unveiling of the grand design. Yusuf felt a strange mix of dread and exhilaration, a sensation of standing on the precipice of something monumental, something that would irrevocably change his life, and the destiny of his fallen family.The robed man’s faint smile widened, it was a predatory curve that sent a shiver down Yusuf’s spine, yet also filled him with a strange sense of awe. He reached slowly, deliberately, for the drawer of the ornate wooden desk beside him. The movement was unhurried, almost theatrical, building the suspense. Yusuf’s eyes followed his hand, every muscle in his body tensing. The soft click of the drawer opening echoed loudly in the silent room, a sound that seemed to reverberate with immense significance. The robed man’s fingers, long and slender, dipped into the drawer and emerged, holding a single, cream-colored document. It was thick, substantial, bo

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