The morning sun was muted behind a veil of clouds as Lior and Liora arrived at the elegant conference hall alongside Ziv. The Shanghai investors had chosen a grand yet understated venue, its polished marble floors and glimmering chandeliers reflecting the high stakes of the meeting. Ziv walked ahead confidently, his suit impeccable, his demeanor composed.
Lior adjusted his tie nervously. "Do you really think this will work out?" he asked, his voice low.
Ziv turned to him with an assuring smile. "Trust me. I've reviewed every detail. This is the opportunity you've been waiting for."
Liora, quiet but poised, glanced at Ziv. "We're trusting you, Ziv. Don't let us down."
He gave a small nod, his features unreadable.
Inside, the investors from Shanghai greeted them with firm handshakes and courteous smiles. A projector hummed softly in the background, displaying charts and projections about the vineyard's potential profitability.
One of the lead investors, a composed man named Mr. Cheng, began the presentation. "This vineyard holds immense promise, but it requires strategic investment and leadership. With these adjustments," he gestured to the slides, "we believe it will outperform expectations."
Lior and Liora exchanged glances. The numbers were promising, but the depth of the deal felt overwhelming. Then came the papers.
"This agreement solidifies our partnership," Mr. Cheng explained. "We've taken your suggestions into account and streamlined the terms. However, it's vital you sign today for this venture to move forward."
Ziv handed them the documents with a reassuring smile. "I've already gone over everything. It's airtight. But I want you to be confident—take a look."
The gesture, a masterstroke of manipulation, disarmed them. Liora skimmed the pages, her brows furrowing slightly before relaxing. "If you've reviewed it, Ziv, then we trust
Ziv hung up the phone, the faint echo of Mr. Yonatan's laughter still ringing in his ears. He stood up from his chair, pacing across the room as a surge of triumph coursed through him. The plan had come together perfectly. He had manipulated the Malachis, played on their trust, and now the vineyard—and soon the position of CEO—were within his grasp. His empire was beginning to take shape.
But as he walked to the window and looked out over the city, the sense of victory felt hollow. Liora's smile, the way she had looked at him last night, lingered in his mind. He had taken everything from her, used her as a pawn in a game that had only one victor: him.
He knew she would never see the truth. She was too enamored by the person he had become for her—Ziv, the charming, successful man who always knew what to say. But deep down, he was acutely aware of the sacrifices he had made to get here. The friendships he had torn apart. The trust he had shattered. And most painfully, the part of himself that had been lost in the process.
Ziv's phone buzzed again, snapping him out of his thoughts. A text from Noa flashed on the screen:
He's pleased. Everything is set. Pack your bags.
Ziv's hand hovered over the screen, his heart pounding in anticipation. This was it—the final step. He had climbed the ladder, one rung at a time, and now the summit was within reach.
He gathered his things quickly, the motions automatic as he stuffed files and papers into his briefcase. He had no time for reflection, no space for regret. The deal with Yonatan had been sealed, and it was time to move on to the next phase.
A few hours later, Ziv arrived at the private mansion in Cyprus, the headquarters of Yonatan's sprawling empire. The tall, iron gates creaked open as Ziv's car pulled up to the driveway. The opulent home loomed before him, its grandeur a constant reminder of the power Yonatan wielded. He could already picture himself here, running the operations, making the decisions.
As he stepped out of the car, a black SUV pulled up behind him, and two men in dark suits emerged. One of them was carrying a briefcase, the other was scanning the surroundings. Ziv knew these were Yonatan's men, the ones who would make his new position official.
Without a word, the men motioned for him to follow. Ziv walked inside, his heart pounding with a mix of excitement and tension. This was it—the moment when everything he had worked for would finally be his.
Yonatan was waiting for him in his study, a glass of whiskey in hand. He greeted Ziv with a smirk, his eyes gleaming with amusement.
"Well, Ziv, it seems we've both gotten exactly what we wanted," Yonatan said, leaning back in his chair. "You've done well. The vineyard is yours. The CEO position is yours. You've earned it."
Ziv smiled, but there was no warmth in it. He had done more than earn it. He had taken it. And now, he would control everything.
Later that night, as Ziv sat alone in his hotel room, he stared at the papers in front of him. The contract. The official documents that would seal his future. He had made it. He had crossed the line. He could no longer go back.
His phone buzzed once more, this time a message from Liora:
I hope you're doing well. Thank you again for last night. It meant a lot.
Ziv stared at the message for a moment, the weight of his decisions pressing on him. A part of him wanted to reply, to tell her that everything was fine, that he had everything under control. But the words felt hollow, and he knew he couldn't lie to her. Not anymore.
Instead, he placed the phone down on the table and took a long, deep breath. The empire he had built was within his reach, but as he glanced back at the city lights twinkling in the distance, a new sense of uncertainty stirred within him. The cost of success was always higher than one expected, and the shadows beneath the surface were beginning to grow.
As he prepared for the next step, Ziv couldn't shake the feeling that the final price for everything he had gained was yet to come.