Billionaire's Power

ike a cage-a glittering, unyielding prison with him at the center. The elevator ride felt endless. My palms were slick, my heart hammering. I tr

standing. His posture was rigid, predatory, a warning without words. Wh

early,"

thought it wou

rply. "Obedience, not thought. Th

rough me, cold and final, leaving no room for negotiation. He didn'

d I sat, my muscles tense, antic

me. "I've observed you," he said finally. "Your strengths, your

erved? Like a

he continued, "because if you don

d, trying to sound steady, though m

ess. "The kind that make you remember why

d of pride I had left and burn it before he could claim it. And

ng the weight of absolute command. "Your priorities shift the moment you walk th

t own my thoughts, my choices, my soul. But the truth was terrifying: I'd sig

y, is observed. Nothing is private. There is no hidden corner i

before, the silent weight of his gaze, the sense that

somehow pierced through every nerve in my body: "Your failure is my amuse

but because the words were stuck somewhere bet

onight is your test. You will perform. Or

en I looked up at him, standing impossibly tall, impossibly calm, I

ll of this... it obeys no one except those who understand the rules. Control, influe

st of obedience. It was a test of endurance, of resilien

I asked, my voice

arlier. "Here," he said simply. "These are your objectives for the next week. You will complete them with

nts, contacts-each item meticulously organized to expose me to pressure, to observe my reactions, to

rstand,

nding isn't enough. You will learn by doing. By fai

ll him that I wasn't a machine, that I wasn't designed for this. But my

ala hosted by one of his partners, gather information,

ing everything from seating arrangements to expected conversational topics. Ev

my bag. "Dress appropriately. You will observe everything, but you wil

and what made me more afraid-the gala, the rules, or the knowledge

inally, the single perm

e a ghost, careful not to attract attention. Every eye seemed to track me, every laugh felt amplifie

r, observing. My pulse raced. I turned slightly, scanning the room, but no one w

es, never staying too long in one place. Every interaction felt like walking a tig

ed and frayed, Grey was standing by the window

?" he

... completed the tasks. I spoke when nece

wly, stepping

ed the rules," I

s. But performance is more than observation. How you handle pressure, u

r to feel relief or

of a smirk tugging at the corner o

y here. Survival was merely the first step. The next

on and fear. But somewhere beneath it all, a spark of defiance flicke

. would make all