New York City, 7:30 AM.
The Manhattan sky was still painted with the golden hues of the sunrise, yet the streets were already alive with chaos. Towering skyscrapers stood proudly, reflecting the city's relentless ambition—a place where dreams are born, thrive, or shatter in an instant.
On the sidewalks, executives hurried past, clad in expensive suits, gripping their Starbucks coffee as if it were the fuel keeping them alive. Car horns blared through the air. Yellow taxis weaved recklessly through traffic, food trucks opened their service windows, filling the streets with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and toasted bagels.
Amidst the bustling traffic, a sleek black Tesla Model S glided effortlessly, maneuvering past cars halted at a red light.
Inside sat a 32-year-old man—Ethan Calloway. The youngest CEO in Manhattan's real estate industry, a man with sharp features, a chiseled jawline, and ice-blue eyes. His black Tom Ford suit was immaculate, his navy tie perfectly knotted, and on his wrist, a Patek Philippe watch ticked at a pace that almost matched the city's restless energy.
He was typing swiftly on his laptop, his face serious, pausing only to take a sip of espresso from a small porcelain cup.
"Connect me to Andersen," he commanded his car's AI system, his voice low and firm.
Ethan wasn't the type to waste time. Every second was a business opportunity.
Across the city, a young woman hurried down the sidewalk.
Emily Carter, 26 years old. A young fashion designer struggling to survive in the ruthless world of NYC. Her face was fresh, her long brown hair messily tied into a ponytail, and she wore a navy-blue blazer over a simple white t-shirt, paired with jeans and slightly worn-out white Converse.
Her hand clutched a cup of coffee from a cheap corner deli while her eyes remained glued to her phone screen.
"Damn, I'm late!" she muttered, nearly colliding with a man sitting on a bench in Bryant Park.
In the background, a street musician played his saxophone, adding both romance and chaos to the morning scene.
Two contrasting worlds.
Two paths that had never crossed.
But today, in this city that never sleeps, fate was about to play its hand.
08:00 AM – AT THE TOP OF CALLOWAY HOLDINGS
Calloway Holdings towered over the heart of Manhattan, a symbol of power and ambition. Its glass exterior reflected the golden morning light, while inside, the office buzzed with activity long before sunrise.
In the main lobby, employees strode with purpose, their faces serious, dressed in sharp suits and expensive shoes that clacked against the sleek black marble floors. The rhythmic sound of stilettos echoed through the vast space, a background melody to the fast-paced corporate world.
In the corner, a barista at the building's café was busy pouring espresso for a long line of employees who couldn't start their day without caffeine.
"Double shot for Rachel!" the barista called out.
A woman in her early thirties with wavy blonde hair grabbed her cup and rushed toward the elevators—just like everyone else in the building. Rushed, ambitious, hungry for success.
On the 65th floor, the CEO's office felt like an entirely different world.
---
08:05 AM – INSIDE THE CEO'S OFFICE
The elevator doors slid open.
A tall man in a flawless Tom Ford suit stepped out with a confident stride. Ethan Calloway.
Behind him, Clara Bennett, his personal assistant, hurried to keep up, an iPad in her hands.
"Today's schedule, Ethan," she said briskly. "Investor meeting at nine, lunch with the board, and a Forbes interview at three. The CEO of Riverton Properties wants to talk, but I told him you're busy."
"Let him wait," Ethan replied casually, not breaking his pace.
Every step he took radiated the certainty of a man who had complete control over the world around him.
At the end of the hallway was his office—a vast glass-walled space overlooking the city. A sleek Italian mahogany desk stood in the center, a large monitor displayed real-time stock charts, and in the corner, a fully stocked minibar gleamed with expensive Scotch.
Ethan shrugged off his jacket, rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt, and settled into his black leather chair.
Outside, the office floor buzzed like a miniature stock exchange.
Phones rang endlessly. Employees in tailored suits spoke rapidly into headsets, jotting down figures that could change lives in an instant.
In the conference room, a billion-dollar project presentation was underway.
"Our stock price is up three percent this morning," a young executive announced in the strategy room, his voice filled with both excitement and tension.
Across the office, the marketing team worked on the latest campaign, while HR interviewed fresh candidates—young, eager, and ready to sacrifice anything for success.
A 25-year-old new hire, wearing a slightly oversized navy suit, nervously walked down the glass corridor.
"Is that Ethan Calloway?" he whispered to his senior colleague, eyes fixed on the CEO, who was typing rapidly on his laptop.
His colleague nodded. "Yeah. He's sharp, ruthless, and no one matches his business instincts."
The new hire swallowed hard. Everyone knew Ethan Calloway's reputation. The man who built a real estate empire before turning 30.
Inside Ethan's office, Clara reentered.
"The investors are ready in the conference room."
Ethan rose, smoothing his suit sleeves before stepping out.
Behind him, the office kept moving. A world where success and failure were separated by a single, swift decision.
And at the center of it all, Ethan Calloway stood like a king.
08:30 AM – CALLOWAY HOLDINGS CONFERENCE ROOM
The conference room on the 65th floor felt more like a battlefield than a typical meeting space. Its glass walls showcased a glittering panorama of New York, but no one in the room cared about the view.
Inside, eight men and women in expensive suits sat around a long oak table, their desks cluttered with tablets, laptops, and stacks of documents.
Ethan Calloway entered the room.
Without preamble, he placed a folder on the table and took his seat, leaning back with a posture that was both relaxed and commanding.
Clara stood in the corner, ready to note down every decision made.
---
08:35 AM – STOCK MARKET TURMOIL
"Alright, give me the latest numbers," Ethan said without wasting a second.
Matthew Andersen, the CFO, opened his laptop and projected Calloway Holdings' stock chart onto the large screen.
"Our stock price is up three percent since market opening. But there's pressure from Riverton Properties—they just acquired three buildings in Lower Manhattan. Investors are starting to compare our valuation with theirs."
Ethan narrowed his eyes. Riverton Properties. His long-time rival, always trying to overtake him in the real estate game.
"What's their latest valuation?"
"They closed this quarter at $38 billion. We're still ahead at $42 billion, but our margin is getting thinner."
One of the executives, David Klein, cut in. "Ethan, we need to act before they take more market share. I suggest we accelerate our Hudson Yards expansion."
Ethan tapped his fingers on the table. "I'm not interested in rushing without a clear strategy. Riverton is playing gimmicks. They're over-leveraged. I want to know exactly how much debt they're carrying."
Lisa Hart, the financial analyst, responded immediately. "They took out an additional $2.1 billion loan last month. With rising interest rates, their burden will only get heavier."
A small smirk formed on Ethan's lips. "We'll let them choke on their own debt. Meanwhile, we attack from another angle."
"What do you mean?" Matthew asked.
"We take their investors," Ethan said. "Riverton might have ambitious projects, but investor confidence is the most fragile asset of all."
Silence fell over the room as they processed his strategy.
Ethan continued, "Clara, arrange a dinner with the investment boards of Goldman Sachs and JP Morgan. I want them to see that Calloway Holdings is still the best long-term bet."
Clara nodded. "I'll schedule it for tonight."
---
08:50 AM – PRESSURE BUILDS
David Klein still looked hesitant. "Ethan, this is risky. If Riverton secures a bigger deal before we do, they could surpass our valuation."
Ethan gave him a cold stare. "David, you're overthinking. This market isn't about who moves first—it's about who has control."
David swallowed hard. Everyone in this room knew Ethan never played with emotion, only logic and razor-sharp calculations.
Lisa interjected, "There's one more issue—the city government is reviewing new property tax regulations. If they pass, our profits could take a hit."
Ethan nodded, as if he had already anticipated this. "Clara, set a meeting with our legal team. I want to know every loophole we can use to minimize the impact."
Clara typed swiftly on her tablet. "I'll schedule it for this afternoon."
---
08:55 AM – DECISIONS MADE
Ethan leaned back in his chair, fingers interlocked.
"The takeaway from this meeting: We let Riverton burn themselves with debt. Meanwhile, we pull their investors, strengthen our position in Hudson Yards, and make sure tax regulations don't hurt us."
Everyone in the room nodded.
"Meeting adjourned."
The executives stood, exchanging tense glances before filing out of the room.
Ethan remained seated, eyes locked on the stock charts, a small smirk playing at his lips.
TO BE CONTINUED…