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TIPPING THE SCALES
last update2025-01-01 12:49:36

Marvin forced himself to move, to appear calm, despite the tension in the room.

His sharp mind reminded him of one thing: the Scandinavian disguise he wore that day during his encounter with Billy. Blond hair, pale skin, and blue contacts—everything about him that day was different from the Hispanic man he truly was.

There was no way Billy could connect him to that altercation. At least, that’s what Marvin told himself.

He stepped forward and sat down in the chair across from Victor, crossing one leg over the other in a show of forced ease.

His face betrayed none of the swirling emotions within him, though his hands rested a little too tightly on the armrests.

Victor’s smile remained frozen in place, a picture of composure, but his eyes sparkled with a cold curiosity. “So, Mr. Marvin,” Victor said, leaning back in his chair, “what brings you to my office today?”

Marvin felt his temper flare instantly. The sheer audacity of Victor pretending not to know why he was here made his bloo
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  • DECLINED

    He answered, his voice was smooth but alert. “Hello Mrs Stella, to what do I owe the pleasure?”“Jayden! Thank god you picked up,” Stella’s voice burst through, it was vibrant and electric, practically humming with excitement. “Listen, I know you’re slammed, but you need to come upstairs, to my office. Right now.”Jayden blinked. “Upstairs? Stella, what’s going on?”“I know it sounds sudden, but something incredible just happened,” she said, her voice was trembling with barely-contained energy. “We have a potential investor here. Someone huge. He arrived in this morning just to meet with us. And he’s specifically asked for you.”Jayden’s tone shifted. “For me? What’s he seen?”“He’s reviewed everything—full North Azarian deck, market strategy, early phase projections. And Jayden…” she paused, her voice dropping into reverent awe. “He’s blown away. Completely. He says he wants in. And he’s not talking small money. This could be monumental.”Jayden stood slowly, muscles tightening bene

  • ECHOES BETWEEN IDENTITIES

    The warm breeze carried the scent of night-blooming jasmine as Christopher Richmond, still in his silk robe, gazed at his beautiful swimming pool. The half-empty bottle of deep red wine sat beside him, it was a silent testament to the evening's triumphs. The call with Jayden—or rather, Marvin—had been satisfying, a symphony of strategic demolition. Yet, a subtle unease now gnawed at him, it was a question that refused to be silenced.“But tell me, Jayden,” Mr Christopher said, his voice was dropping slightly, a more serious tone entering his words. He turned his attention from his swimming pool, his eyes were now fixed on the dark, reflective surface of the wine in his glass. “With all these intricate plans, all these meticulous deceptions, all these… adjustments to reality… do you ever worry that someday you will be found out? That one day, someone will see through the layers, uncover the truth? That the very fabric of the reality you’ve woven might unravel, exposing you?”He lo

  • A TOAST TO CONTROLLED CHAOS

    The sun dipped low over Neovalle, painting the sky in fiery streaks of orange and purple. A gentle breeze, warm and soft, rustled through the palm trees that lined Christopher Richmond’s sprawling estate. The air smelled faintly of chlorine from the large, shimmering swimming pool, its surface reflecting the last rays of daylight like a giant, liquid mirror. Soft, ambient music, barely a whisper, drifted from hidden speakers, creating a peaceful, almost dreamlike atmosphere.By the edge of the pool, on a plush, cushioned lounge chair, sat Christopher Richmond. He was no longer in his sharp business suit as usual. Instead, he wore a luxurious, dark silk robe, with a fabric that was gleaming softly in the fading light. A half-empty bottle of expensive, deep red wine stood on a small, glass-topped table beside him, its crystal stopper catching the light. In his hand, he held a sleek, modern phone to his ear, his eyes, usually so keen and calculating, now held a rare, relaxed conten

  • VINCENT'S COUP

    The screens of their devices, now eerily silent, displayed the chilling confirmations of massive, involuntary transfers. Billions—no, trillions—of dollars had been pulled from their accounts in the blink of an eye. Just... gone.The CEOs—once proud, smug, and confident—sat frozen. Their mouths were slightly open, their fingers were twitching helplessly over their glass screens.Vincent Arceneaux stood before them, tall and composed in his suit. A slow, triumphant smile crept across his face. But it wasn’t the kind of smile that came from happiness or kindness. No. This one was cold—like the smile of someone who had just crushed every opponent in a game only he truly understood.His voice broke the silence. It was calm, smooth, and completely empty of the fake humility he had used earlier. This time, there was only steel in his tone.“Now,” he said with chilling finality, “Project Cognivault begins its course.”He let the words hang in the air like a fog, letting them settle deep in

  • 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

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