THE MAN WHO HE OWNED THE WORLD
1440 Words
Tommy Voss learned early on that power is not something you possess.
It was something people believed you have.
The ballroom was as glittering as a palace made of pearls and diamonds.
Crystal chandeliers cast light across the polished marble floors, over women in silk gowns and men in cut suits who spoke in numbers rather than emotions.
Every laugh was calculated.
Every handshake had an invisible contract.
Tommy stood at the center of it all, smiling as if he'd never lost anything in his life.
He raised his glass to the standing ovation, nodded when the cameras flashed, and leaned in when investors discussed new opportunities.
To them, he was still the golden child of tech.
The genius who transformed ideas into empires.
The man whose name alone can cause stock values to collapse.
Nobody saw the discomfort and heaviness on his shoulders.
No one noticed how his jaw tightened whenever his phone vibrated in his pocket.
Because power, real or not, seemed the same from a distance.
He excused himself from a group of investors and strolled out onto the balcony that faced the city.
The night air was frigid, cutting through the warm glow of champagne and hollow praise.
The city stretched out under him like a sea of lights, infinite and alive, and he was convinced he still owned a piece of it.
Tommy grabbed his phone.
He had three missed calls from his CFO.
His legal team had sent him two urgent emails.
Indie had also sent a message, leaving Tommy worried.
“We need to talk now.”
He closed his eyes for a moment.
Juliana would stand with him on balconies like this.
She used to lean her elbows on the railing and discuss how the city looked from above.
She used to say it reminded her of how little everyone was, no matter how powerful they believed they were.
He used to giggle at this.
Now the words came back to him like a silent curse.
Walking in the penthouse everywhere was dark, except for the soft light of the city flashing through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Indie was standing in the center of the living room, barefoot and arms crossed, her reflection ghosting in the glass behind her.
"You were supposed to come home an hour ago," she said, giving him a disgusting look.
"I had obligations," Tommy explained, removing his tie.
She did not move. "You had an audience."
He paused.
Her gaze was piercing and calculating, making him feel like he was being judged rather than appreciated.
"Sit down," she said.
He looked at her shocked and wondered where she got the confidence to order him around.
"What did you just say?" he asked.
"This!" she said, moving slowly towards him, "is the part where you stop lying to me."
He scoffed. "I don't lie to you."
Indie laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You lied to everyone. "The difference is that I check your numbers."
This made his stomach tighten.
Walking towards the table, she picked up a file and presented it to him.
"Look."
He did not want to.
But he did.
Accounts.
Transfers.
Frozen assets.
Withdrawal of investments.
The illusion he'd been holding together with charisma and reputation was crumbling, line by line.
"You told me this was only temporary," Indie said quietly. "You told me you had a plan."
"I do," Tommy snapped.
"Then, where is it?" she demanded. "Because from where I'm standing, you're rich in public and broke in private."
The words hit him harder than any insult before.
His hands were unsteady, getting a fine red wine from the table, he tried to pour himself a glass of wine.
"Why are you really with me, Indie?" he said, not turning around.
She did not blink twice. "Because I believed in what you were building."
"And now?" he asked.
Stepping closer to him, she looked at him in the eye with disappointment. "Now I'm starting to wonder if I believed in a story instead of a man.”
He took a big gulp.
Indie phone buzzed, and she checked it, frowned slightly, then looked up at him.
"Do you know a company called Vale Holdings?" she asked.
The name pierced into his chest like a blade.
"No," he replied quickly.
"They're buying quietly," she explained. "Not just random stocks, Strategic ones.
Businesses that supply us. Businesses that invest in us. Companies we rely on."
Tommy put his drink down looking confused and shocked.
He asked, "Who runs it?"
She shook her head. “That's the strange part. All the records are clean. Too clean."
Something cold settled in his gut.
Tommy stayed awake after Indie had gone to bed.
The city lights blurred in front of him as he read through old messages.
Juliana's name was at the top of his contact list.
He didn't delete it. He told himself it was because he didn’t care enough to block her or delete her contact.
However, the truth was far from it and scarier.
He opened their last chat.
Her last message was short.
I needed you, and you were not there.
He stared at it until the words began to lose shape.
His thumbs hovered over the screen.
You left without explaining. He deleted it.
Come back. We can still fix this.
He deleted it again.
Finally, he typed again: Where did you go?
He sent it before he was able to stop himself.
The message delivered.
But no response.
The silence that came felt heavier than any argument they'd ever had.
The following morning, the office was filled with tension.
The CFO stood in front of his desk, gloomy, gripping the folders tightly in his hands.
"We're losing leverage," the CFO panicked. "Our competitors are receiving better terms.
Better rates and better access
Tommy demanded, "From whom?"
The CFO paused. "Vale Holdings Again!”
The name echoed across the room.
"Find out who they are," Tommy replied hurriedly. "I want to meet. A call. Something."
"We've tried," the CFO said. "They do not respond to cold outreach." They do not attend public conferences. They go through secret routes."
Tommy leaned back in his chair, his gaze narrowing.
No one moved like that unless they had something to hide.
Or something to defend.
The ocean whispered against the coast from many miles away.
Juliana sat in a small, brightly lit office above a quiet neighborhood in Seabrook Bay. The window was open, allowing the sound of gulls and the smell of the sea.
Marcus Vale sat across from her, holding an open folder between them.
"Your father wasn't just a dreamer," Marcus explained. He was a builder.
He contributed to the development of methods that allowed businesses to grow without being owned by the wrong people.
Juliana ran her fingertips over the folder's edge.
“Then why did no one know his name?” she asked.
Marcus's expression turned calmer. "Because powerful men prefer silent partners."
The words sank deep within her. She was thinking of Tommy.
He used to talk about success as if it were something you took rather than shared.
Marcus slid the folder closer.
"This is what he left you," he said. "It is not money. It's not fame. Influence."
She popped it open.
Corporate network maps.
Lists of investors.
Connections that span countries rather than cities.
This was actual power.
Not the kind that sparkled beneath chandeliers.
The kind that moved silently yet influenced everything.
Juliana closed the folder carefully.
"And what do you want in return?" she asked.
Marcus caught her eye. "I want you to decide what your father never got the chance to do."
She stood and headed to the window.
The ocean stretched out in front of her, vast and peaceful.
Her hand slid to her stomach.
The life inside her shifted softly, as if it understood the world into which it was being born would not be kind.
"I've spent so long letting others decide my future," she said slowly.
She turned her focus to Marcus.
"I won't do that again."
Then he gave a little smile. "That means you're ready."
That night, Tommy was standing in his penthouse, starring at a city that no longer felt like his.
That same night, Juliana stood on a beach that finally felt alive.
Neither of them was sure how.
Neither of them knew when exactly.
They both felt it, though.
The world they formerly shared was changing.
And when they stand face-to-face, they will not be like lovers.
It would be as enemies who knew each other's hearts too intimately to ever truly win.
- Writer
