Max adjusted his cufflinks, his reflection staring back at him from the polished elevator doors. His new identity—Alexander Mercer, global investor, power broker, and the latest addition to the world’s most exclusive circle—was flawless. Every record, every transaction, and every piece of fabricated history had been carefully placed to ensure he belonged here.This was the game now.He wasn’t storming their gates. He was walking through the front door.The elevator chimed softly, and the doors slid open to reveal the highest floor of the Obsidian Tower—an unmarked skyscraper in the heart of Zurich, its existence wiped from public records.Inside, the air carried an unspoken weight.The room was lavish but without excess—old power, the kind that didn’t need to prove itself. Dark marble floors, dim chandeliers, and a long, polished table where men and women sat, their expressions unreadable.These weren’t just billionaires.These were the ones who built empires, destroyed nations, and r

Max sat in the dim glow of his penthouse suite, the black folder still open in front of him. Elliot’s photo stared back at him, a reminder of how far they had come—and how far they had fallen.His mind churned. They expected him to kill Elliot. His first act as an Architect was to erase one of the few people who had never betrayed him.This was the real test.Not just loyalty—but obedience.And he had exactly one week to decide.The Obsidian Tower loomed above Zurich, its presence a silent declaration of power. Max walked into the private boardroom, where Silas Grayson sat waiting, his silver hair neatly combed, his fingers tapping against his whiskey glass.Anastasia Voss and Viktor LaSalle were there too, watching him closely.Silas gave him a measured look. “You’ve reviewed the file?”Max nodded. “I have.”Anastasia tilted her head. “And?”Max leaned back in his chair, his face unreadable. “I’ll handle it.”Viktor smirked. “Good. We thought you might hesitate.”Max forced a slight

But before the conversation could continue, the doors at the far end of the room swung open.And the room fell silent.Because only one person commanded that kind of reaction.The Grand Architect.He moved like a shadow, his presence sharp, a whisper of something ancient and untouchable. His tailored black suit bore no wrinkles, his silver hair was swept back with precision.But it was his eyes that set him apart.Calculating. Endless.His gaze settled on Max, and for the first time since he had stepped into this world, Max felt truly measured.“You,” the Grand Architect said smoothly, taking his seat at the head of the table, “are either our greatest recruit…”He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.“...or our biggest mistake.”Max didn’t blink. Didn’t shift.He had played this game before.The Grand Architect smirked, fingers tapping against the edge of his glass. “Your execution of Elliot Stoke was impressive.”Max nodded once. “I don’t fail assignments.”The Grand Arch

Max’s finger hovered over the trigger. The weight of the gun felt heavier than it ever had before. The Grand Architect’s voice still echoed in his earpiece.“Kill the target now, Max. Or your entire cover is blown.”His father stood before him, calm, almost resigned. There was no fear in his expression.Max’s mind was at war with itself. If he fired, he would be just another pawn, another puppet dancing on The Architects’ strings. But if he didn’t—if he hesitated—his own life became forfeit.Then his father spoke.“You’re too deep, Max,” he said, voice low, measured. “You think you can manipulate them, but they’ve already manipulated you.”Max’s grip on the gun tightened. “What the hell are you talking about?”His father exhaled. “You’ve spent so much time pretending to be one of them that you don’t see it anymore. You’re playing their game by their rules. But you never had a real choice.”Max’s pulse pounded. “I’ve been dismantling them from the inside. I’m in control.”His father sh

The Vienna Black Room was more than just a meeting place—it was a cathedral of power. The air itself felt heavier inside, thick with the presence of men and women who didn’t just influence history but rewrote it before the ink dried.Max sat at the long obsidian table, his posture unreadable, his expression a mask of cold calculation. Around him, the world’s true rulers gathered—presidents, billionaires, military strategists, and corporate titans whose names never appeared in the news but whose whispers could start wars.At the head of it all sat The Grand Architect.His presence was a force of gravity, silent but inescapable. He moved with a precision that suggested complete mastery—of his surroundings, of the people in the room, of Max himself.Max’s heartbeat remained steady, his breathing controlled. He had spent months playing the game, but now, he was at the heart of the machine.He couldn’t falter.Not now.The Grand Architect tapped a single key on his sleek black console.The