Chapter 1 – The Man at the Top
"Sir, the board is ready for you. Conference Room 7. They've been waiting ten minutes."
Vanessa Hill, my assistant, stood at the door holding a digital tablet, her voice calm, her posture sharp. Thirty, Ivy League, and smarter than half the execs sitting in that boardroom.
"I'll be there in five," I said, my voice even.
She gave a subtle nod, turned, and left. Vanessa knew the rhythm. She also knew I didn't walk into a meeting unless I was five steps ahead.
I remained by the window, staring down at Manhattan from the 84th floor of Stratos Global Holdings. The city buzzed below — yellow cabs, honking horns, and sharp suits rushing from one glass tower to the next.
This view, this office, this empire... all of it was mine.
Behind me, the room was quiet, trimmed in dark oak and brushed steel. My desk: custom Italian, $42,000. The art on the wall: an original Haring, gifted by a tech billionaire. A shelf of first-edition business books. Bottled water flown in from Norway.
Even the air smelled expensive — thanks to a custom air diffuser by a boutique firm in Switzerland.
The reflection in the window showed a tall man in a black Ermenegildo Zegna suit. Tailored to perfection. Sharp jawline. Clean-cut beard. Cool gray eyes that didn't blink unless they needed to.
Richard Cade.
Billionaire. CEO. Face of three Fortune 500s. Forty years old and worth more than $3.2 billion in liquid assets alone.
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My phone buzzed.
A call from Senator Marshall. Declined.
Another buzz — Elon, my private banker. Declined.
They could wait.
I turned toward the mirror mounted by the bar cabinet. A still moment. Just me and my reflection.
The Man in the Mirror.
Was this success? Power? Immortality?
People called me unstoppable. Ruthless. A shark in a suit.
But they never saw who I was before the money.
I stared into my own eyes and spoke — not loud, not whispered. Just real.
> "Yeah… I'm rich now.
Rich enough to never check a price tag.
I own penthouses, jets, private art galleries… I sit on government task forces.
But the truth?
I wasn't always rich.
I didn't come from money. I came from nothing.
I know what it's like to sleep in a car.
To lie in interviews just to get a foot in the door.
They see me now, and they think I'm lucky. They think it was handed to me.
But they don't know about the system.
And if you want to know who I really am...
Then let me take you back. Before the suits. Before the billions. Before all this."
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I adjusted my cufflinks, turned to leave the
room, and as the heavy glass doors shut behind me...
11 years earlier…