After He Blocked My Project, I Exposed His Empire Novel – Chapter 7
The Ultra Technologies building loomed over the city like a gleaming monolith, its glass facade reflecting the morning sun in blinding flashes. I stood at its base, my reflection distorted in the polished exterior—disheveled, sleep-deprived, and absolutely furious.
The security guard at the front desk barely looked up as I approached.
“I’m here to see Julian Ultra,” I announced, my voice steadier than I expected.
“Do you have an appointment?” he asked, the boredom in his tone suggesting he already knew the answer.
“No, but he’ll want to see me.” I held up the obsidian device Julian had sent me. “Tell him Anya is here about his ‘gesture of good faith.'”
The guard’s expression shifted subtly. He made a brief call, speaking too quietly for me to hear, then nodded toward the private elevator at the far end of the lobby.
“Mr. Ultra will see you. Penthouse level.”
The elevator ascended silently, each floor ticking by on the digital display. My anger grew with each number, fueled by the memory of Julian’s smug text and the hidden surveillance in his “gift.” By the time the doors opened directly into his penthouse office, I was incandescent with rage.
The space before me was a study in minimalist power—an expansive white room with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city below. The furniture was sparse and geometric, each piece seemingly carved from a single block of material. Julian stood with his back to me, hands clasped behind him as he gazed out at his domain.
“I was wondering when you’d come,” he said without turning. “Though I expected it would be to accept my offer, not to glare daggers at my back.”
I strode across the room, the obsidian device clutched in my hand.
“What is this?” I demanded, slamming it down on his pristine desk. “A trojan horse? You’re spying on me!”
Julian finally turned, his expression mild and unperturbed.
“I prefer to think of it as due diligence. I never invest without understanding the asset thoroughly.”
“Asset?” I spat the word. “Is that what I am to you? And this contract—” I pulled up the digital agreement on my phone, “—five years of my creative output? You’d own everything I make!”
“Not everything,” Julian corrected, moving to sit behind his desk with fluid grace. “Only what you create using Ultra resources. And in exchange, you receive what you most desperately want—freedom from limitation.”
“It’s exploitation,” I said, my voice tight with anger.
Julian’s smile was patient, almost paternal.
“It’s acceleration, Anya. Do you know how many creators would sacrifice far more for what I’m offering you? The ability to work without barriers, without waiting, without someone else deciding when you’ve created ‘enough’?”
He gestured to the city below.
“My empire wasn’t built on exploitation. It was built on mutual benefit. Creators need exposure and resources. I need content and innovation. Together, we create something greater than either could achieve alone.”
“At what cost?” I challenged. “My independence? My voice?”
“Your voice would be amplified a hundredfold,” Julian countered. “Your work would reach audiences you can’t imagine. What good is independence if no one sees what you create?”
Before I could respond, a sharp alert sounded from Julian’s console. His expression changed instantly, the composed mask slipping to reveal something I hadn’t seen before—genuine concern.
He tapped the console, and a holographic display materialized between us. Financial charts, stock tickers, and legal documents flashed by too quickly for me to read, but the bold red alert at the center was unmistakable: “HOSTILE ACQUISITION INITIATED.”
“What is it?” I asked, momentarily forgetting my anger.
Julian’s eyes narrowed as he studied the display.
“It seems Silas Pro has decided to make a move. He’s attempting a hostile takeover of Ultra Technologies.”
“Pro Plan is trying to buy Ultra?” The implications hit me like a physical blow. If Pro Plan acquired Ultra, there would be no escape, no alternative. One system would control everything.
“Not just trying,” Julian said, his voice taut with restrained fury. “He’s been planning this for months. Acquiring shares through shell companies, positioning board members…” He looked up at me, his perfect composure cracked. “This changes everything, Anya. For both of us.”
In that moment, I realized I wasn’t just caught between two tech giants anymore. I was standing at ground zero of a war that was about to engulf the entire creative world—and somehow, I had become a piece on their chessboard.