Despite achieving all your long-held aspirations, an overwhelming sense of emptiness consumes you from within. With each passing day, the void within you grows deeper, eroding the once-vibrant emotions that define you. What was once a heart filled with compassion and tenderness now festers with a turbulent mix of anger and indifference.
You find yourself drawn to the morbid and the macabre, seeking solace in the eerie stillness of lifeless forms. It's a haunting fascination, a twisted refuge from the relentless ache that gnaws at your core.
In a desperate bid to quell the ever-present loneliness, you surrender to reckless impulses, seeking fleeting connections in the arms of strangers. Yet, despite the fleeting moments of distraction, the emptiness persists, casting a shadow over your every action.
And as you navigate this desolate landscape of your own making, the weight of isolation bears down upon you, suffocating you in its grip. Each passing day is a battle against the numbing numbness, leaving you adrift in a sea of solitude and sorrow.
I exited my office, only to stumble upon a scene of conflict. Her voice, like a potent elixir, flooded my senses, awakening something deep within me. My men hurriedly moved to shield her from my sight, but her presence lingered in the air like an irresistible magnet.
"What's happening, Sol?" I demanded, my curiosity ignited. Reluctantly, they turned, revealing a teenage girl with hazel eyes that sparkled like stars in the sunlight. Despite the chaos, she exuded a quiet confidence, her fair complexion a striking contrast against her dark attire.
"Apologies, boss," one of my men spoke up, his voice tinged with embarrassment. "We accidentally damaged her bike and her goods."
The girl met my gaze fearlessly, her demeanor steady. There was something about her that captivated me, a force I couldn't ignore.
She wrinkled her nose in discomfort from the heat, her lips a beguiling sight. "Compensate her for the damage and let's get back to business," I instructed from within the car, observing closely for her response.
She turned to Sol, her expression a mixture of disbelief and anger, her cheeks flushing crimson. With a sudden burst of fury, she thrust the money into Sol's hand, her words tumbling out in a heated torrent.
"Fuck you! And your worthless pieces of paper, you old bag!" With that, she storms off, mounting her bike and riding away in a cloud of frustration.
Erwin kept his gaze fixed on me through the mirror, silently awaiting my command. I gestured toward the girl outside and spoke in a low voice, "Find her, but keep this discreet. No one else needs to know." He nodded in understanding and swiftly drove off to carry out my orders.
Back in my office, I waited for my client to arrive, eager to see how he could entertain me. Suddenly, Sol's voice cut through the silence from behind me, alerting me to an unexpected development.
"Boss, he's here with armed men," Sol informed, his tone tense with concern. I nodded in acknowledgment and signaled to Erwin, who relayed the message through his mic with urgency.
"Red alert, everyone," he announced, positioning himself strategically behind the door, ready for whatever might come next.
He hails from the Arab world, a formidable real estate mogul with a keen eye for opportunities, yet his gaze is fixed on uncovering my hidden treasures, oblivious to my true intentions.
"So, Kenji, I'm willing to increase the amount by 30% from your initial request, and I'd like to transform your hotel into a tourist destination for my people," he states confidently, his words ringing with conviction.
However, his proposal failed to pique my interest, and I found myself disengaged from the deal. "I'm sorry, sir, but this meeting is over," I declare, rising from my seat and adjusting my coat as I lock eyes with his astonished expression.
"You can't walk away from this! I've presented you with the best offer," he protests, rising to his feet with unwavering determination. I pause at the doorway, turning back to face him with a steely resolve.
"Mister, there are countless individuals who can offer me the wealth you possess, but ultimately, it's my prerogative to choose who deserves a share of the spoils," I assert, before exiting the room, leaving him standing there, stunned into silence.
The hotel in question was none other than Hotel Nokova, a longstanding family enterprise passed down through generations, yielding profits that surpassed those of any other venture. Despite our dubious affiliations, it operated within the bounds of legality, catering to a clientele with tastes as clandestine as our own.
"Boss, I've obtained what you requested," Erwin announced, his attention divided as he kept his call on hold. Curious, I inquired, "Who's on the line?" He hesitated for a moment, then responded, "Um, it's Oscar and Mike." With a nod, I instructed them to convene at my residence.
As I stepped into the familiar confines of my home, a heavy sense of desolation hung in the air like a suffocating shroud. The once vibrant atmosphere had been replaced by a hollow emptiness, the echoes of laughter now silenced by the weight of solitude.
Every corner of the room seemed to whisper of memories long past, each haunting reminder serving as a poignant testament to the happiness that had slipped through my fingers like sand. It was a cruel irony, the place meant to offer solace now serving as a stark reminder of loss.
And so, fueled by a relentless determination, I threw myself into my work, each task a fervent attempt to drown out the deafening silence and the painful echoes of betrayal that lingered in the shadows. For in a world where trust was a fragile commodity, I refused to be blindsided again, knowing all too well the sting of deceit disguised by false smiles.
After changing into more comfortable attire, I descended to find my companions indulging in drinks. "An unexpected guest is disturbing my peace," I remarked with a smirk, wine glass in hand.
"Indeed, this guest is only welcome if they bring something of value," Mike remarked, handing me a file adorned with a photo of a young girl.
I glanced at the photo, noting the innocence in the girl's eyes before turning back to Mike. "Who's this? A new addition to spice up your otherwise mundane existence?" He teased, raising an eyebrow in curiosity as I accepted the file.
Mike chuckled, shaking his head at my jest. "You could say that," i replied cryptically, finishing his drink in a single gulp before excusing himself. Despite his brash demeanor, Mike was one of the few I trusted implicitly, a steadfast companion who had stood by me through the trials of building our dreams from the ground up.
I opened the file to reveal her captivating face, every detail meticulously documented. Mike had done an excellent job, capturing not just her physical beauty, but also the depth of her soul. It was as if her essence emanated from the photograph, drawing me in with an irresistible pull.
Despite her humble circumstances, she exuded a quiet strength and grace that spoke volumes about her character. As I gazed at her image, I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to hold her in my arms, to whisper sweet nothings into her ear, and to explore the depths of her heart.
"Sir, your dinner is ready," came Sara's soft voice, accompanied by a gentle smile as she entered the room. "You don't have to do this, Sara. I've told you many times," I reminded her, gesturing for her to take a seat at the edge of the bed.
"Dear, I don't deserve this, but I cherish the sight of you coming home, enjoying a meal, and finding solace, unlike those days when..." Sara's voice trailed off, choked with emotion as tears welled up in her eyes, her hand instinctively reaching to cover her mouth as if to prevent herself from revealing more.
I stayed silent, reading the paper inch by inch. "Sara, it's all thanks to you. If you hadn't offered me your food, I wouldn't be here sitting in this luxury bedroom, and I couldn't even feed my men a proper meal. It's all thanks to you; you deserve much more than you got," I expressed, acknowledging her invaluable support.
Sara nodded, trying to hold back her tears, her gaze shifting to the papers on the bed. "She is too young," she remarked softly, observing a candid picture of Diana Dior. "And she runs her mouth like dolly," Sara chuckled, shaking her head affectionately.
"Oh dear! She gives you a hard time, doesn't she?" she added, reflecting on the challenges posed by Diana Dior.
I nodded in agreement, my attention drawn to the captivating image of Diana Dior.
Hello lovelies ~
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