(Vivaan's POV)
The mansion disappeared behind me.
Finally.
A week abroad.
Meetings. Negotiations. Numbers. Decisions.
Predictable.
Unlike the people inside that house.
I leaned back against the leather seat as the car slipped through the city. Glass towers replaced old streets, and familiar skylines rose ahead. My wrist shifted unconsciously as I adjusted my watch for what was probably the seventh time.
Habit.
Not impatience.
Silence settled inside the car.
The only kind of silence I ever appreciated.
Outside, the city moved.
Inside, my mind was already three meetings ahead.
Skyline Crest.
The forged seal.
The investigation.
Every loose end would be tied before I returned.
The driver slowed as towering iron gates came into view.
Svidevzalia Global Headquarters.
The gates opened without hesitation.
As they always did.
The car rolled through perfectly maintained gardens before stopping beneath the massive glass façade.
The driver hurried around and opened my door.
I stepped out.
Employees were already waiting.
Heads lowered.
Greetings prepared.
Not because they feared me.
Because they respected what I had built.
My gaze travelled across the building.
Steel.
Glass.
Precision.
Every floor...
Every office...
Every decision made within these walls...
existed because I had built it.
This wasn't merely a company.
It was my legacy.
My authority.
My world.
the measured click of my shoes against the polished marble announcing my arrival long before anyone dared to speak.
Without slowing down, I walked toward my cabin.
As expected, my secretary fell into step behind me, tablet in hand.
"Good morning, sir. Welcome back. Due to your absence, the schedule has shifted slightly. We have—"
"Final schedule."
My interruption was calm.
She stopped mid-sentence.
"...Yes, sir."
She glanced at the tablet.
"Three board meetings today. The timings are—"
I again spoke, cutting her words in between.
"And compensation?"
"Sir?"
I finally looked at her.
"I was absent for a week."
A pause.
"Compensation."
She swallowed.
"Sir... there isn't any."
"I didn't ask whether there was."
My voice remained even.
"How many deals were delayed?"
Silence.
"How many meetings were postponed?"
Another pause.
"How much did the company lose?"
She lowered her gaze to the tablet, suddenly unable to meet my eyes.
I sighed.
"Within 30 minutes, I expect the revised schedule."
She nodded and left from there.
I let out a slow exhale.
Then walked toward the floor-to-ceiling glass wall.
The city stretched beneath me.
Roads alive with movement.
Towers piercing the skyline.
Thousands of people rushing somewhere.
Building.
Competing.
Surviving.
My reflection stared back at me through the glass—sharp suit, composed expression, nothing out of place.
Order.
That was how I preferred things.
Predictable. Measurable. Controllable.
My fingers slipped into my trouser pocket as my gaze drifted across the skyline.
A week.
Seven days away.
Seven days was enough for someone to exploit a single mistake.
Skyline Crest wasn't a coincidence.
Someone had entered my house.
Someone had used my seal.
And someone believed they had gone unnoticed.
They were wrong.
Every action leaves a pattern.
Every lie leaves a crack.
It was only a matter of time before I found both.
A knock interrupted the silence.
"Come in."
The door opened carefully.
"Sir, the board members have assembled."
I didn't turn immediately.
My gaze lingered on the city one last time.
Then, adjusting the cuff of my suit, I spoke in the same calm tone that had built an empire.
"Let's not waste their time."
Or mine.
The conference room fell silent the moment I entered.
Not because someone announced me.
Because they noticed.
One by one, the board members stood.
"Good morning, sir."
I acknowledged them with a slight nod before taking my seat at the head of the twelve-seater table.
"Sit."
Within seconds- files, tablets and laptops were opened.
The large digital screen lit up.
The quarterly reports appeared.
I folded my hands on the table.
"Begin."
The Chief Financial Officer stood first.
"Our revenue has increased by 11.8% this quarter. The Singapore expansion is progressing as expected, while the Dubai acquisition has entered the final stage. We are expecting—"
"Page thirty-two."
He stopped.
"...Sir?"
"Page thirty-two."
The room became still.
He hurriedly flipped through the file until he reached the page.
I didn't.
I already knew what was there.
"The projected expenditure for logistics."
"Y-Yes, sir."
"Read the third column."
He adjusted his glasses.
"'Estimated transportation cost...'"
"Lower."
He continued.
"'Emergency operational reserve...'"
I looked at him.
"Read the figure."
"...Twenty-eight point four million."
Silence.
"It should be twenty-six point nine."
The CFO frowned.
"...Sir?"
I leaned back slightly.
"The exchange rate you used belongs to last week's valuation."
Another pause.
"It changed forty-eight hours ago."
The room froze.
He looked at the finance team.
They checked.
Again.
Again.
Finally—
"...Sir..."
His voice had become noticeably quieter.
"You're right."
No satisfaction crossed my face.
Only disappointment.
"I've been absent for seven days."
My gaze swept across the room.
"And in seven days..."
I closed the file.
"...this board forgot how to verify numbers."
No one spoke.
No one dared.
The presentation shifted.
The Head of Marketing stood.
"Our latest campaign has generated approximately seventy-two million impressions with a projected customer conversion of—"
"Stop."
She froze.
"Your campaign."
She nodded nervously.
"Yes, sir."
"Who approved the tagline?"
"...I did."
I looked at the screen.
"'Luxury Beyond Imagination.'"
Silence.
"Tell me."
She swallowed.
"What exactly is beyond imagination?"
No answer.
"Our products?"
She stayed silent.
"Our services?"
Nothing.
"Our architecture?"
Still nothing.
I stood slowly.
Every eye followed me.
"A slogan without substance is decoration."
I walked toward the digital display.
"People don't buy imagination."
I picked up the digital stylus.
"They buy trust."
One stroke.
The tagline disappeared.
I wrote three words.
Precision. Legacy. Excellence.
I placed the stylus down.
"That..."
I looked at everyone.
"...is measurable."
The Head of Operations finally spoke.
"Sir... regarding the delayed European shipment..."
"What about it?"
"We've informed the clients there will be a forty-eight-hour delay."
I nodded once.
"And?"
"They accepted."
"No."
Confusion filled the room.
"They tolerated."
Silence.
"They accepted because they had no alternative."
I looked directly at him.
"Never mistake tolerance..."
"...for loyalty."
No one took notes anymore.
They memorized every word.
Because they knew—
if they forgot,
they wouldn't be sitting in this room next quarter.
I glanced at my watch.
Exactly thirty-eight minutes.
"Anything useful left?"
Silence.
No one answered.
"Meeting adjourned."
Chairs moved immediately.
People stood.
Some relieved.
Some terrified.
As I reached the door, I stopped without turning around.
"Oh..."
Everyone froze again.
"The revised logistics report."
A pause.
"On my desk."
I looked at my watch once more.
"...within thirty minutes."
Another pause.
"And this time..."
My voice remained calm.
"...don't make me find your mistakes for you."
I walked out.
Behind me—
no one spoke until the door clicked shut.
The conference room emptied within seconds of my departure.
Footsteps hurried behind me.
"Sir."
I didn't stop walking.
"My next meeting?"
My secretary matched my pace, tablet clutched tightly against her chest.
"The domestic acquisition meeting has been shifted to two o'clock."
I gave a slight nod.
"And the international schedule?"
She glanced at the screen before speaking.
"The Zurich board has confirmed your arrival."
A pause.
"Your flight is at 6:40 this evening."
I stopped.
Not abruptly.
Deliberately.
She almost walked past me before catching herself.
"The documents?"
"Already sent to your cabin, sir."
"The legal team?"
"They've reached Switzerland this morning."
"The interpreters?"
"Confirmed."
"The security detail?"
"In position."
I resumed walking.
"Good."
She hesitated.
"Sir..."
I looked at her.
"The Zurich board requested if the meeting could be postponed until tomorrow. They were informed about your injury."
A brief silence.
"They're concerned it may be difficult for you to travel."
I adjusted the cuff of my injured arm without so much as glancing at it.
"They're mistaken."
"...Sir?"
"My injury isn't attending the meeting."
She blinked.
"I am."
Understanding dawned on her face immediately.
"Yes, sir."
As we reached my cabin, another executive approached, visibly anxious.
"Sir, the Swiss delegation has also requested a private dinner after the meeting."
I opened the cabin door.
"Purpose?"
"They wish to discuss the merger informally."
I placed the file on my desk.
"If a decision requires dinner..."
I looked up, meeting his eyes.
"...it isn't ready to be made."
The executive lowered his head.
"I'll decline politely, sir."
"No."
He looked up again.
"I'll attend."
Hope flickered across his face.
"...But dinner remains dinner."
A pause.
"The negotiation stays inside the boardroom."
"Understood, sir."
The executive left almost immediately.
I turned toward the glass wall of my cabin.
The city stretched endlessly beneath me.
Another country.
Another board.
Another negotiation.
Just another day.
My phone vibrated once.
A message from the aviation team.
Private jet prepared. Departure confirmed.
I locked the screen.
"Inform Zurich," I said without turning around.
"I'm not arriving as a guest."
A pause.
"I'm arriving as the man they're waiting for."
The cabin fell silent again.
Exactly the way I preferred it.