2024-09-15 01:05:42
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OWNERSHIP IN QUESTION
Tariq froze mid-step, his jaw was tightening. Christopher Richmond, Marvin's uncle was here. The man who was on the side of the Orion family who were their business rivals. He had heard stories about Mr Christopher and the kind of power he exuded especially in Neovalle. He was aware of how pivotal he was to Marvin's success in Neovalle.This was a constant irritant in their meticulously curated world. Besides that, he always had a beef with the Richmonds. He saw them as calculating opportunists who had always sought to undermine the Khyber influence. What in God’s name was he doing here, in his bank, in Yohan’s office, at this ungodly hour?Yohan, seemingly oblivious to the sudden tension that thickened the air, stepped forward, extending a hand. His voice, though still formal, held a hint of forced cordiality. “Mr. Khyber, thank you for coming so promptly.”Tariq ignored Yohan’s outstretched hand, as his eyes were locked on Mr Christopher Richmond. “Yohan, what is the meaning o
LEGACY IN FLAMES
Tariq stumbled from his office, with his phone still clutched in his trembling hand. The silence of the hallway was a stark contrast to the digital firing squad he’d just escaped. His mind reeled, it was a whirlwind of accusations, threats, and now, the chilling pronouncement from Yohan Johnson. “Serious trouble concerning your ownership of Diamond Bank.” The words echoed, each syllable was a hammer blow against his fragile composure. He owned 70% of that bank! It was his anchor, his last bastion of financial stability in a world that was rapidly turning to quicksand.His legs felt like lead, but he forced himself forward, driven by a primal need to understand. He navigated the familiar halls of his penthouse apartment, with the opulent decor now feeling like a hollow mockery of his crumbling empire. He reached for his car keys, his hand shaking as he fumbled with them. Driving himself was out of the question; his vision was still swimming, and his thoughts were a chaotic jumble
DIGITAL GUILLOTINE
Tariq’s eyes, still blazing with a mix of fury and despair, darted to the vibrating phone. Yohan Johnson. Why was he calling now? Of all people, at this precise moment of public humiliation? A cold knot of dread began to tighten in Tariq's stomach. It was an unwelcome intrusion, a new note in the symphony of his downfall. He could only imagine what fresh hell Yohan was about to unleash.The investors, however, didn’t pause their assault. Their voices, amplified by the digital platform, hammered at him."Fraudster!" Eleanor Vance shrieked, her face was a distorted mask of rage on the screen. "You lied to us! You misled us! We will see you in court, Tariq! You won’t get away with this!""Enjoy your bankruptcy, Tariq!" Mr. Volkov sneered, with a cruel smile twisting his lips. "When we're done, you won't even have a pot to piss in!"Kenji, usually so reserved, now practically spat his words. "Your family name will be mud! Your legacy will be a cautionary tale of greed and incompetence
OF VISIONS AND VISIONARIES
Tariq straightened, his jaw was tightening, a muscle twitching almost imperceptibly. "Project Revenant is, regrettably, temporarily on hold. The core infrastructure, as you are aware, was housed within the affected facility. We are in the process of assessing the full extent of the damage and formulating a comprehensive recovery plan." He chose the term "recovery plan" hoping it would convey proactive measures rather than desperate scrambling.Eleanor Vance interjected, her voice was sharp as a surgical blade, cutting through the thin veneer of professionalism. "Temporarily on hold? Tariq, we invested billions – billions! – based on your meticulous timelines, your ironclad projections of immediate and unparalleled returns. We require a clear understanding of precisely when operations will resume and, more importantly, when we can expect our capital back. Our agreements stipulated guaranteed returns, not indefinite delays!"The shift began subtle, there was a slight hardening in thei
THE VIRTUAL RECKONING
The air hung heavy in Tariq’s chamber, as he was in a suffocating blanket of despair. The luxurious room, usually a sanctuary of calm and order, now felt like a gilded cage. He slumped onto a plush armchair, the rich velvet offering no comfort against the raw ache in his chest. Farouq’s words, a death knell to their empire, echoed in his mind: "We have been reduced to dust, Tariq. We are nothing more than a group of people without any identity, without any money."He stared blankly at the ornate ceiling, seeing not the intricate carvings but the monstrous negative figure: -$250,000,000,000. It wasn't just the money, though that figure alone was enough to shatter nations. It was the legacy, the power, the very essence of who the Khybers were. Gone. Reduced to ash by a ghost from their past, a man who had walked among them, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Jayden Cole. The name was a venomous whisper on his tongue, a burning ember of hatred in his gut.Hours bled into a timeless void. T
A DAY THE DYNASTY DIED
Farouq’s body convulsed, a violent tremor was shaking his already frail frame. He coughed again, a deep, guttural sound that seemed to tear at his very core, and this time, a sickening spray of dark, arterial blood splattered across Tariq’s pristine suit jacket. The metallic tang filled the air, mingling with the acrid scent of ozone and burning circuitry. Farouq’s eyes, wide and unfocused, fixed on something beyond Tariq, a silent horror reflected in their depths. His lips, now a ghastly shade of blue, moved, struggling to form words.“J-Jayden…” he rasped, the name was barely a whisper, yet it struck Tariq with the force of a thunderclap. “Jayden Cole…”Tariq’s grip tightened on his brother’s shoulders, his knuckles turning white. The name, a ghost from their past, a threat thought long vanquished, now materialized as the architect of their ruin. The anger, momentarily overshadowed by concern for Farouq, surged back with renewed ferocity, colder and sharper than before.“Jayden
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