Prologue: The Arrival of Ali Demir

The wheels of the private jet screeched against the tarmac as the aircraft landed at Ankara Esenboğa Airport. The setting sun bathed the city in hues of gold and amber, a fitting welcome for a man who thrived in shadows but carried himself as though he belonged to the light.

Ali Demir stepped out of the jet, his presence commanding yet understated. His tailored navy suit clung to his lean frame, accented by a deep crimson pocket square. Aviator sunglasses shielded his piercing eyes, giving nothing away, yet inviting curiosity. A sleek black sedan waited for him on the runway, its driver holding the door open. Ali entered without a word, his mind already on the evening's agenda.

This was not just a business trip—it was a calculated move in a larger game. One where every player thought they held the upper hand until they met him.

---

In the heart of Ankara, the towering glass-and-steel building of Horizon Ventures stood as a monument to corporate ambition. Tonight, however, its ambitious owner, Vedat Karahan, was restless. The news of Ali Demir's arrival had reached him earlier that day, accompanied by whispers of impending deals and unspoken threats.

Vedat was not a man who appreciated competition, especially one as enigmatic as Ali Demir. Vedat prided himself on his ability to outmaneuver, intimidate, and, when necessary, eliminate threats. Tonight, he had opted for the latter.

---

Hours later, as Ankara's nightlife buzzed with energy, a convoy of black SUVs sped through the quieter streets of the city. Inside one of the vehicles sat a group of heavily armed men, their orders clear: eliminate Ali Demir. Their target was expected to be at a high-end restaurant downtown, indulging in the luxuries befitting a man of his stature.

But Ali wasn't there.

Instead, as the SUVs circled the restaurant, the sedan carrying Ali pulled up to the headquarters of Horizon Ventures. Ali exited the car, adjusting his cufflinks as he surveyed the building. "Wait for me," he told the driver, his voice calm and firm.

Inside the building, Vedat lounged in his office, a tumbler of whiskey in his hand. His confidence faltered slightly when the intercom on his desk buzzed.

"Sir," his secretary stammered, "Ali Demir is here."

Vedat sat up, his mind racing. "Send him in," he said, masking his unease with an air of bravado.

Moments later, the door swung open. Ali Demir strode in, his polished leather shoes clicking against the marble floor. He exuded an aura of controlled power, the kind that made men like Vedat nervous.

"Ali Demir," Vedat said, rising from his chair. "I didn't expect to see you here tonight. I thought you'd be enjoying Ankara's finer establishments."

Ali smirked, his expression enigmatic. "I prefer to conduct business directly, Vedat. No distractions, no misunderstandings."

Vedat gestured to the chair across from him. "Then sit. Let's talk business."

Ali didn't move. Instead, he let his gaze wander around the opulent office, taking in the expensive art, the oversized desk, the panoramic view of the city. He finally spoke, his voice soft but deliberate.

"Before we begin, I believe you're expecting company tonight."

Vedat stiffened, his grip tightening on his glass. "I'm not sure what you mean."

Ali stepped closer, a predatory glint in his eyes. "The men you sent—about twenty of them, I believe? Armed, aggressive, professional in their own way. It's a shame they didn't reach their destination."

Vedat's face paled. "What are you talking about?"

Ali leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Money, Vedat. It speaks louder than loyalty, louder than fear. Your men work for me now. They were quite eager to accept my offer."

Vedat's bravado cracked. "You're bluffing," he spat.

Ali straightened, his calm demeanor unshaken. "Am I?" He glanced toward the door. "Shall I call them in?"

The room fell silent, the weight of Ali's words suffocating. Vedat sank back into his chair, his confidence replaced by a simmering rage.

"You think you've won?" Vedat hissed.

Ali chuckled, low and menacing. "Oh, Vedat. Winning is such a small ambition." He snapped his fingers, and his secretary entered, carrying a sleek black envelope.

"Give it to him," Ali instructed.

The secretary approached Vedat, placing the envelope on his desk. With trembling hands, Vedat tore it open. His eyes scanned the documents inside, widening with every line.

"No," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

"Yes," Ali said, his tone almost amused. "Your company, Vedat. Horizon Ventures. It's mine now. A hostile takeover, executed flawlessly. Your board members were eager to sell their shares. A little persuasion, a lot of money—it works wonders."

Vedat slammed the papers on the desk. "You… you can't do this!"

Ali stepped back, gesturing to the security guards standing outside the office. "Gentlemen, escort Mr. Karahan out. He no longer works here."

The guards entered, their expressions neutral as they flanked Vedat.

"You'll regret this, Demir," Vedat growled as he was dragged toward the door.

Ali watched him go, his expression unreadable. "I doubt that," he murmured.

When the door closed behind Vedat, Ali turned to the large glass window behind the desk. The city stretched out before him, glittering and alive. For a moment, he allowed himself a flicker of nostalgia.

He thought of Iskender Yilmaz, the man he had been. A man betrayed by those he trusted, left to rot in a prison cell. He thought of the pain, the anger, the years spent planning his return.

But Ali Demir had risen from those ashes, reborn as a man who controlled his fate. He placed his hands in his pockets, his reflection a shadow against the city lights.

"This is only the beginning," he whispered to himself, a faint smile playing on his lips.

The game had just begun.