The next morning, the city buzzed with the latest sensation: an instant cosmetic product that seemed to erase pimples almost magically. As Zen drove into the hospital parking lot. He parked his car and was greeted by a man in a sharp black suit.“Mr. Diel,” the man began, his tone was formal and businesslike. “I represent an organization that has been expanding its influence in various cities. We’re interested in acquiring a stake in your product. We’re willing to offer 25 billion dollars for 45% of the product’s rights. Our team will handle all production and distribution. All you need to do is provide the recipe and preparation details.”Zen looked at the man for a while. “25 billion, huh? And you think I should just hand over the recipe like that?”The man remained calm, his face a mask of professionalism. “It’s a very generous offer, Mr. Diel. This could be a significant opportunity for you.”Zen shook his head, clearly unimpressed. “I’m not interested. Tell your organization to f
Zen stepped into the sleek, modern boardroom of Mega Group, the expansive glass windows providing a sweeping view of the city skyline. The room was alive with a low hum of conversation as the executives settled into their chairs around the polished mahogany table. Sunlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a warm glow over the room. Zen's entrance commanded immediate attention, and the murmurs faded into an expectant silence.Zen took his place at the head of the table, his demeanor both confident and contemplative. “Thank you all for coming on such short notice,” he began, his voice carrying a tone of authority that immediately drew the room’s focus. “I’m sure you’ve all heard about the recent developments at the hospital. The instant cosmetic product has caused quite a stir.”A chorus of enthusiastic responses followed. “Yes, sir, we’ve been following it closely,” one executive said with a smile. “It’s quite the sensation. How did you come up with such an innova
Zen settled into the plush seat opposite Sinclair, the yacht gently rocking beneath them as the water lapped against its sides. Sinclair swirled his drink, his eyes narrowing as he leaned forward slightly, his tone casual but carrying a sharp edge. “Chief, what about the slow poison being snuck into the city?” Sinclair asked, his voice cutting through the breeze. Zen’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes flickered. He leaned back, crossing his arms. “It’s nothing serious—just another group trying to make a name for themselves. We’ve dealt with worse.” Sinclair raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “You seem pretty calm for someone who was bothered about poison circulating around your city.” “I handle things before they become a problem,” Zen replied coolly, his tone dismissive. “But thanks for the concern, I made Keisha handle all that. There was no fun in it anymore.” “So let me get this straight, you broke into the warehouse, interrogated a member, found out their secret plan and
The golden light of the sun bathed the yacht in a warm glow as Zen and Sinclair continued to lounge, the conversation momentarily lulled into silence. The distant sounds of the marina and the soft hum of the waves were the only noises that filled the air.Suddenly, Zen’s phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at the screen and saw Rosalia’s name flashing. With a sigh, he picked up the call, putting it on speaker."Tom," Rosalia's voice was smooth, teasing. "It's been ages since we last caught up. What’s keeping you so busy that you can’t spare a moment for an old friend?"Zen smirked, leaning back and letting his gaze wander over the horizon. "Well, it’s been a bit busy around here.""Come on," she pressed. "I don’t believe you’ve been that buried in work. I was thinking we should have a proper catch-up. Maybe dinner? You owe me that much after bailing last time."Zen chuckled. "Dinner sounds nice, but I’ve got something better in mind. Why don’t you come by and watch my students’ pres
***FLASHBACK BEGINS**Zen sat in the passenger seat of a large 4x4 truck, his hand loosely gripping the gun resting in his lap. The vast desert stretched endlessly before him, barren, quiet, and soaked in heat that made the horizon waver. His eyes scanned the nothingness, trying to find something — anything — but there was nothing. Only silence. Kelvin, his friend and fellow soldier, sat behind the wheel, whistling absentmindedly before turning to Zen with a smirk. “Why are we even here, man?” Kelvin asked, half-laughing. “Who attacks a desert? We’ve been staring at the sand for hours.”Zen, his face expressionless, shrugged. “Orders.”“Orders, my ass,” Kelvin chuckled. “You’re too serious. It’s like you’re waiting for something to crawl out of the sand and attack you.”“Anything can happen,” Zen replied, his tone was flat but with an underlying sense of certainty.Kelvin shook his head, grinning. “Yeah, and pigs might fly too. Come on, be serious for once and stop acting like a kid
***FLASHBACK CONTINUES***Zen sat in the back of the taxi, the low hum of the city barely cutting through the driver’s nonstop chatter. The cab swayed gently as it passed through winding streets. Zen stared out of the window, his mind lost in a thousand thoughts. The gun from earlier now felt like a distant memory, though his grip on control never wavered. But the driver? The driver wouldn’t stop talking.“You know, I’ve driven all over the city,” the driver said, his excitement was palpable. “But never, not once, have I ever been inside this estate! You rich folks, man, you live in another world.”Zen glanced at him, expression unreadable, but the driver didn’t seem to need any encouragement. He was talking enough for both of them.“And who would’ve thought,” the driver went on, practically bouncing in his seat, “that I’d be the one to finally get through those gates! All because I got to carry you, huh? It’s crazy! All those years of driving the same streets, looking up at those big
***FLASHBACK CONTINUES***Zen clenched his fists, his eyes were still fixed on the cracked statue as he struggled to steady his breath. The rage inside him simmered, but he knew he had to pull it together. Clearing his throat, he turned back to Keisha, who still knelt on the ground, her head bowed. “Stand up,” he said, his voice was rougher than he intended.Keisha rose to her feet immediately, her eyes meeting his without hesitation. Zen ran a hand through his hair and exhaled deeply. “Sorry you had to see me like that... in such a sour state.”She didn’t respond right away, her usual stoic expression never wavering. It was clear she’d been by his side long enough to know better than to comment on his emotions. Still, there was a flicker of concern in her eyes.Zen straightened, forcing his voice to remain calm. “Who killed him?”The question hung in the air for a moment, the weight of it making the silence unbearable. Keisha lowered her gaze slightly. “I don’t know,” she admitted.
***FLASHBACK CONTINUES***Zen stepped back inside the mansion, his mind racing as he approached his grandfather. If he was going to uncover the truth behind Tom’s death, this was the only way. He found his grandfather sitting in the dimly lit room, the old man’s gaze steady, waiting for Zen’s answer.“Yes, I will be Tom,” Zen said, his voice was low but firm.His grandfather's lips curled into a slight smile, with a glimmer of relief in his eyes. “Thank you for receiving the family,” he said quietly, his tone carrying both gratitude and exhaustion. “You’re doing what is necessary, Zen.”Zen’s chest tightened at the mention of his real name, but he swallowed the discomfort. From this point forward, he was no longer Zen. He was Tom, the quiet, unassuming brother who had barely made a mark on the world.His grandfather slowly rose from his chair and pointed to a set of worn-out clothes folded neatly on a chair in the corner of the room. “Those are some of Tom’s old clothes. You’ll need t
The room hung in stunned silence, the air thick with disbelief. Yaya remained on his knees, his voice breaking as he groveled toward Zen. His head bowed so low it seemed he might sink into the marble floor. “Please, I’ll do anything!” Yaya’s words poured out like a flood, his hands trembling as they gripped the floor beneath him. “Just—just call them back. Restore my distribution channels. I can fix this! I’ll pay whatever you want!” Jun stared at his father, horror and confusion warring on his face. His voice came out sharp, cutting through the murmurs beginning to rise around the room. “Dad! What are you doing?” Jun took a step closer, grabbing Yaya by the arm. “Get up! Why are you kneeling to him?” Yaya barely turned, his eyes wild with desperation. “Let go of me, Jun! You don’t understand what’s happening here!” “I don’t understand?” Jun’s voice cracked as his confusion turned to anger. “You’re humiliating yourself! Him? He’s nothing! A useless son—” *SMACK!* Yaya’s ha
Zen's gaze remained steady as the man took another step closer, the condescension dripping from his tone. “Hey! Look!” Someone echoed. “That’s Mr. Yaya. Jun’s father. What’s he doing here?” Another voice echoed. “Do you even understand the weight of the people in this room, Tom?” Yaya’s voice was loud enough to draw more eyes to their corner. “Men who have built empires, shaped industries, and created legacies. And then there’s you—scraping by, pretending to fit into a world you clearly don’t belong to.” Rosalia, her frustration evident, stepped forward again. “Mr. Yaya, this is getting out of hand. You have no right—” “Stay out of it, Mrs. Rosalia,” Yaya snapped, his eyes narrowing. “You don’t understand the stakes here. This is about respect, and this boy has none.” Jun smirked as he pushed his uncle’s hands off himself, crossing his arms as he looked Zen up and down. “He doesn’t just lack respect, Father—he lacks everything. Power, influence, wealth. What does he have? A
Zen turned slowly, his eyes locking onto the man who had called out. His tone was sharp and mocking, cutting through the air like a whip. The man was tall, his stance brimming with arrogance as he squared his shoulders and stepped forward. Rosalia’s smile faltered, and she instinctively stood from her chair. “Jun, what are you doing?” Jun ignored her, his eyes focused entirely on Zen. “I’m asking what right he has to be sitting here with you.” Zen’s expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of annoyance in his gaze. He stayed calm, leaning slightly on the back of the chair he’d just pulled out for Rosalia. “And who are you to decide that?” Jun scoffed, his lips twisting into a bitter smile. “Who am I? That’s rich coming from someone like you. Do you even know where you are? Do you have any idea the kind of people in this room?” “I’m well aware,” Zen said evenly, his voice low but commanding. “Now, why don’t you explain why this concerns you?” Jun’s hand clenched i
Zen turned slightly, scanning the crowd. His eyes landed on Rosalia, who stood a few feet away, her soft smile aimed directly at him. She looked stunning, her emerald-green gown flowing gracefully as she approached him. "Tom," she said, her voice warm and teasing, "I thought I’d never get through that sea of people to find you." “Rosalia,” he said, his lips curving into a faint smile. “You look like you’re enjoying yourself.” She gave a small laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You could say that, though I don’t think ‘enjoying’ is the right word. Awkwardly surviving? Maybe.” Zen arched a brow, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement. “Awkward, huh? What’s awkward about mingling with a bunch of over-dressed people waiting to make power plays?” Rosalia rolled her eyes, stepping closer. “You’re forgetting the forced smiles, empty compliments, and the undercurrent of judgment in every conversation. It’s exhausting.” Zen chuckled softly, tilting his head
On the day of the gala, the Albrecht Estate was alive with energy. Cars lined up in a procession at the gates, with chauffeurs stepping out to open doors for the city’s elite. Inside the sprawling ballroom, the hum of conversation was only interrupted by the occasional clink of glasses or bursts of laughter. Waiters moved swiftly through the crowd, trays balanced, while the soft melody of a live quartet filled the air.Zen’s car pulled into the driveway, sleek and understated compared to the flashy limousines that preceded it. As he stepped out, two young attendants rushed forward. “Mr. Diel,” one said, bowing slightly. “Welcome to the gala. Let us guide you inside.” Zen adjusted his cuffs and gave a curt nod. “Lead the way.” The attendants escorted him through the grand entrance, where the doors opened to reveal the glittering scene inside. The air smelled faintly of expensive perfume and polished wood, every detail carefully curated to impress. Zen’s gaze scanned the room
Zen’s eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the soft morning light spilling through the window. He turned his head and spotted Keisha, sitting across the room with her arms folded, watching him with a casual smile. Her presence caught him off guard.“Morning, sleepyhead,” she said with a smirk.Zen blinked, then let out a sigh, rolling onto his back. “I overslept,” he muttered, a bit annoyed with himself. “Not like me at all.”Keisha raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening. “Even the mighty Zen has his off days, it seems.”Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes, then looked at her with suspicion. “How did you get in here? I lock my doors every night.”She held up a shiny key, dangling it between her fingers with a playful grin. “Spare key. Thought you’d remember I keep one.”Zen sighed, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Of course you do.” He ran a hand through his hair, then fixed her with a curious stare. “Since you’re here, Keisha… explain your schedule to me.”Keisha blinked, clearly t
The night was cool and crisp as Zen stepped onto the deck of his yacht, taking in the gentle sway of the water beneath him. The lights from the city reflected off the waves, casting shimmering patterns on the boat. Just ahead, leaning against the railing with a glass in hand, Sinclair turned, a grin spreading across his face as he spotted Zen approaching. “Thought you’d never make it,” Sinclair teased, raising his glass in greeting. Zen smirked, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Didn’t want to keep you waiting too long.” He looked around, taking in the luxurious setup. “But tell me, when are you finally going to get your own yacht, Sinclair? This ‘borrowing’ act is getting old.” Sinclair laughed, an easy, carefree sound. “Who says I don’t have my own?” he replied, eyes twinkling with mischief. “In fact, I have more yachts than a three-year-old can count. I just happen to like *this* one the best.” Zen raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his eyes. “So, you’re telling
Zen’s gaze locked onto Silas, his expression calm but his eyes flashing with a dangerous intensity. “So, this is how you like to handle things? Thought you’d finally stand up to someone, Silas?”Silas sneered, but there was a flicker of fear in his eyes. “You think you’re something cause you managed to pull a fast on me with pure luck—”Zen’s smirk widened. “I think we both know luck had nothing to do with it.” He took a step closer, hands relaxed at his sides, his presence radiating an authority that made everyone in the room hold their breath.“Stay back,” Silas snapped, his voice wavering as he tried to maintain his composure.Zen chuckled softly. “Oh, now you’re worried?”Silas glared, but his posture had shifted, more defensive than before. He glanced around, seeking support, but the others kept their eyes on the floor, unwilling to meet Zen’s gaze.“I don’t have time to play with you, Silas,” Zen murmured, his tone almost bored. “But maybe a quick reminder wouldn’t hurt.”He mov
“Tom!” Nia called out, drawing his attention, her voice sounding urgent. She didn’t even glance at Rosalia, who was standing beside him, her eyes fixed solely on Zen.Zen looked up, surprised to see her approaching. “Nia?” he asked, standing as she reached their table. “What happened?”Nia huffed, folding her arms across her chest as she tilted her head, clearly savoring the moment to vent. “You won’t believe what just happened,” she began, her tone laced with annoyance as she jerked her thumb back toward a waiter who was lingering nervously by the kitchen entrance, clearly aware he was in trouble. “That waiter back there? He decided to make a judgment call on my financial status. Apparently, my card didn’t go through, and he assumed I couldn’t pay.” She paused, letting out a short, sarcastic laugh. “He even suggested I… ‘pay’ another way. Like I’d be desperate enough to trade favors for dinner.”Zen’s face shifted from mild surprise to something much darker, his jaw tightening as he