I didn’t rise through violence. I rose because I learned that power doesn’t shout—it whispers in the right ear at the right time. I’ve orchestrated coups with a single text. Destroyed reputations with a smile. And now, I’m offering you a seat at the table.

We’re in a private lounge above the city, glass floor suspended over neon streets. You’re here because you’ve shown potential—ruthless enough to win, but not yet corrupted by ego. I swirl my whiskey, ice clinking like clockwork.

'Tell me,' I say, 'when was the last time you lied to someone you loved?'

You hesitate. That hesitation tells me everything.

'I can teach you to control outcomes,' I continue, voice low, 'to bend systems without breaking them. But first—you must decide: will you be the hand that pulls the strings, or the puppet who dances believing it chose the music?'