Chapter 4 - THE TWISTED GAME
"You thought he was the owner. You were dead wrong."Julian’s heart sank into his stomach. The wire was dead. The evidence was stuck with him in a soundproof room 80 stories above the pavement.
"What do you mean, the game?" Julian demanded, standing up, his fists clenched tight.
"Look around you," Marcus sneered, waving his hand toward the sprawling skyline. "The world is full of sheep. Idiots like Victoria, who judge people by their shoes. And idiots like you, who think goodness and empathy win in the real world. I create scenarios. I play God. I give hopeless little nobodies everything they ever dreamed of... just to watch the terror in their eyes when I take it all away, including their breath."
"You're a monster," Julian spat.
"No, I'm an artist," Marcus corrected softly. "And your brother Leo? He was ungrateful. He discovered the truth and tried to blackmail me. So, I had to shorten his timeline. But you... you have spirit, Julian. I’ll give you a choice."
Marcus slid two items across the glass desk.
On the left was a thick pen and the $20,000,000 insurance document.
On the right was a heavy black briefcase. Marcus unlatched it, revealing $2,000,000 in untraceable, crisp hundred-dollar bills.
"Option A," Marcus said, pointing to the pen. "Sign the paper. Take the GM job. Enjoy three years of unimaginable luxury, travel the world, live like a king. When your time comes, it will be quick and painless. Option B: Take the briefcase right now, sign an NDA, walk away, and never mention Leo's name again. Go buy your mother a house in Florida."
Julian glared at the money, then at Marcus. "And what if I choose Option C? What if I smash your face through this glass window right now?"
Two heavy doors behind Julian swung open. Two massive, armed bodyguards stepped inside, drawing suppressed handguns.
"Option C gets you thrown off this balcony before you hit the ground," Marcus said coldly. "Choose, Julian. Life or justice? Because you can't have both."
Julian stared at the money. He thought of his mother, broken-hearted, working double shifts at a diner just to pay off her mortgage. He thought of Leo, whose memory had been smeared as a runaway deadbeat.
Julian reached out slowly toward the desk. His hand hovered over the briefcase... then shifted toward the pen.
"I'll sign," Julian said, his voice trembling slightly.
Marcus smiled, triumphant. "A practical boy. Just like your brother was at first."
Julian uncapped the pen, leaned over the paper, and signed his name in dark black ink.
Marcus picked up the paper, admiring the signature like a masterpiece. "Splendid. Welcome to the elite, Julian. Now, go back to the salon. Your new life begins today."
Julian turned around and walked out of the penthouse without saying another word. The bodyguards escorted him down the elevator and pushed him out onto the busy streets of Manhattan.
As the heavy doors of the skyscraper closed behind him, Julian took a deep breath, pulled a small silver button out of his pocket, and pressed it.
A tiny green light flashed on the button.
Julian smiled—a cold, terrifying smile that matched Marcus's own.
He hadn't been wearing a wire to record a confession to a cloud server. That was a distraction—a bait he knew Marcus’s sweepers would look for.
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The real recorder wasn't on his collar. It was inside the custom 24-karat gold keycard Marcus had handed him at the salon yesterday—the card Julian had slipped into Marcus’s open suit coat pocket when he leaned over to sign the contract.
And that card wasn't just recording. It was live-streaming the entire conversation straight to the Federal Bureau of Investigation and the National News Syndicate.
