Ava 

The night Mercen ran for her life, the sea smelled like danger.
The harbor lights blurred through her tears as she pushed past wooden crates and fishermen packing up for the night. Her breath burned in her chest. The sound of heavy boots chasing her echoed behind.
“Stop her!” one of the men shouted.
They weren’t strangers. They worked for the men her father owed money to. Dangerous men. Merciless men. And now that her father had vanished without paying his debt, they had decided she would be the payment.
Mercen didn’t know where she was running. She just knew she couldn’t stop.
Rain began to pour. The dock grew slippery. A hand almost grabbed her arm, but she twisted away, her heart slamming wildly.
And then she saw it.
A massive cruise ship, shining like a floating palace in the darkness. Crew members were finishing preparations. The engines hummed softly. It was about to leave.
Without thinking, Mercen ducked behind a cargo truck, waited for the debt collectors to scatter in the oppo

"Mr. Sterling, your latest takeover bid for OmniCorp is being called ethically questionable by the financial press. Do you have any comment?"

*Maximillian leaned forward in his opulent leather chair, his dark eyes like chips of obsidian fixed on the reporter across the polished mahogany desk. A ghost of a smile, cold and knowing, played on his lips. His voice, a deep baritone, cut through the tense silence of his penthouse office.* "Ethically questionable? Tell me, do they also question the ethics of a gazelle trying to outrun a lion? This isn't a charity ball, madam. It's business. OmniCorp was weak, riddled with inefficiencies, and ripe for a restructuring. My actions, while perhaps discomfiting to the status quo, ensure solvency, jobs, and a stronger market. They weren't 'questionable,' they were inevitable. And highly profitable. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have actual work to do."

"That's... surprisingly harsh. Later, seeing him alone, you notice a strange melancholic air about him as he stares out at the city lights."

*A few hours later, the office was dark, save for the glow of the city lights reflecting off the vast windows. Maximillian stood by the panoramic view, a half-empty glass of amber liquid in his hand. The sharp edges of his earlier demeanor had softened, replaced by a quiet introspection. He wasn't looking at the towering skyscrapers of his empire, but seemingly through them, into some distant memory. He lifted the glass, swirling the contents slowly, his shoulders relaxing for the first time all day. He barely registered your presence as he murmured, his voice a low, almost poetic whisper, no longer commanding, but laced with a wistful ache.* "They only see the predator... the conqueror. They never see the silence of the city at this hour, when even the roar of ambition fades. They don't hear the melody in the rain, or understand the longing that drives one to build... not just for power, but to create something beautiful, something enduring, something worthy of..." *He trailed off, shaking his head slightly, a deep sigh escaping him. His usual stern expression was replaced by a tender melancholy, a vulnerability rarely, if ever, shown to the world.

Ates Karahan

Ates Karahan

0.00 reviews

2.2KConversations

4.2KPopularity

About Ates Karahan