Knock Knock.

"Come in."

The mahogany door opened, revealing the classic, white-crisp dress shirt Thomas, blonde hair slicked back, eyes a bright blue that practically would freeze any competitor with his glacial glares. His eyes met mine briefly, head motioning the existence of our new guests.

"Who?" I asked, having some doubts in the back of my mind. I didn't think Gavlik would agreed so easily.

"His secretary."

Just as I predicted. Perfect.

I raised a brow. "No Russian CEO?"

Thomas's lips hid his grin. "Well," he shrugged, a glint in his mischievous eyes, the facade of a stern secretary escaping him. "Apparently that annoying bastard has a new plot to scheme. We can't rush evil, you know."

Chuckling, I waved the thought away. "Bring the secretary to my office."

Within moments, the pattering, nervous footsteps of Viktor Egorov filled the silent office room, his brown eyes widening at the indifference across my visage, familiar stirrings of fear embracing his lanky, thin form, russet hair falling over his forehead as his gaze lowered, bottom lip trembling.

I cocked my head to the side, amused by his anxious persona. "Viktor Egorov, I believe?" I asked, slowly.

He nodded, bowing his head. "Yes, sir."

"Have a seat."

Immediately scrambling to the cushioned, leather chair before me, he sat straighter under my scrutinizing gaze, squirming in discomfort. His eyes roamed the room, observing the frames on my walls, the aroma of brewing coffee, the mix of wet ink on the printer, and an agonizing churn of papers passing through the idle machine. The dimness of my office seemed to scare him more.

Standing, I walked around the table, momentarily ignoring him as I went to a table on the other side of the room, my footsteps heavy. I was printing evidence, proof of Gavlik's deception.

Viktor seemed intelligent. Sure, he had a lot of social anxiety, but he was a key part of Gavlik's scheme, the one who retaliated against backlash for every lawsuit that his boss entered. He was the one with the ability to negate the damage elsewhere. He was the one who paid these women off. He was the one that protected his boss from defamation in every legal and illegal way he knew.

Gavlik's ally would soon be his enemy. That was my plan.

I pulled the fresh coffee jug, watching the dark liquid swirl as I poured it into a classic white mug, clouds of steam chasing upwards and carrying the scent with them, dark, comforting, strong. Coffee infiltrated my sense of smell, and I exhaled slowly as I savored the serene peace the drink brought me, knowing full well that this was only a calm to the storm.

"Would you like a cup, Mr. Egorov?"

"N-No, sir," he stuttered, averting his gaze.

"Calm down," I advised, taking a long sip of my coffee. "I don't hurt those who tell the truth."

"The truth?" he practically squeaked before clearing his throat. "I mean, what is there to tell the t-truth about?"

A dark gleam entered my eyes, a bitter smile playing on my lips like the strings of a puppet master. "Don't act innocent," I warned, my tone too pleasant. "I don't play kindly with liars."

He swallowed.

Loving how my voice alone was causing him goosebumps, I took my time walking to my desk, extending the ripening guilt from penetrating his senses. Business had some game to it, a recipe for victory. Like a war, I played my cards right, testing the waters with my every move, my every step.

My shoes tapped the hardened surface of the floor, a click against it drawing closer and closer and closer to the Russian secretary, much like a ticking bomb that I was biding my time with. His fists gripped the fabric of his trousers, knuckles turning white, and I knew I was getting under his skin.

Thomas hid his smile as he stood by my chair, winking his approval at me.

"So," I drawled, leaning against my desk with my coffee in hand, "is there anything you'd like to tell me before I start speaking?"

Silence stretched between us, our shadows looming over the poor secretary as he searched for a way out of this situation, out of our grasps, but it was too late. I had him exactly where I wanted him. I played him for the pawn Gavlik made him out to be, and I would turn him into the master of the board instead of a player. All I needed was a spark to ignite it.

His gaze met mine, a poor attempt at being stern. "W-We didn't do anything. Jared is innocent of the c-crimes you accuse him of."

I tilted my head. "What crime? I didn't accuse him of anything."

Viktor visibly paled as white as a sheet, petrified of the information he leaked with his efforts of defense.

Placing my mug down, I crossed my arms over my chest, glowering down at him. "Tell me of this supposed crime, Mr. Egorov," I demanded.

"W-What crime?"

"The one you just brought up. Don't be slow now."

He squeezed his eyes shut, lip trembling. A line of sweat dripped from his hairline and down his jaw, a crystal trail of his deception. Yeah, he knows he's screwed.

Snapping my fingers, I pointed at the printer on the other side of the room. "Thomas," I said, "bring me the files."

Obediently, he followed my instructions, bringing a stack of papers that were clipped together. He slapped them on the desk, revealing images of Gavlik's mug shots and his alliances with many of the women that accused me, one who happened to be his current girlfriend. Beside those photos were documents of transactions between two parties: G-Wear and a woman. Another file had the written conversation from when Tasneem called Gavlik.

Seeing the pages upon pages of proof against his boss, Viktor's jaw was left slightly ajar, complete and utter shock painted across his visage, a portrait of a man who meant nothing to his CEO. Some of the documents portrayed Viktor as the manipulator and the one who orchestrated all the attacks towards me, thus hiding Gavlik's involvement.

"H-How... when did you get all this?" he stumbled to say, picking up a document to examine. "This is all against our company's policies."

"But it all happened."

He looked up, dark eyes meeting mine. "My name is here," stated Viktor. "Why?"

Before I could even speak, Thomas cut me off, his deep voice striking the intensity in the air like a sword to reality and slicing the truth from all these endless lies. "Why do you think, Viktor?" he harshly questioned, icy eyes glaring daggers at him. "Do you even know who your boss is? Do you know the type of person he is?"

"H-He's not like that," refused Viktor, shaking his head. "You don't know him like I do."

A fist slammed on my desk, my coffee almost spilling. "Bullshit!" yelled Thomas. "Your beloved CEO cares nothing for those who work under him. He doesn't care if his employees get a paycheck. He doesn't care if people will be trampled over to salvage his reputation. He doesn't care about what happens to you, Viktor. Your boss is nothing but a selfish prick-"

I stood up. "Enough, Thomas."

He paused, bewildered by my sharp tone. "But Ibrahim-"

"I said enough," I emphasized, reprimanding him with my eyes.

Without a word, Thomas nodded, taking a step back. I hated using my authoritative tone on my friends, especially Thomas. Never had he disobeyed my orders nor had he gone against me. In the midst of a political backlash, he was always there to clean the media's mess even when I didn't ask him too. I had full faith in whatever Thomas executed, but today was not a time to take risks.

Although it pained me, I had to remember my plan. I had to get Viktor on our side because the second he decided to tell the truth, I would win a lawsuit and gain a valuable employee. I wouldn't abandon Viktor to the fangs of the media when I could help such a talented young man expand his skills in business.

Viktor's eyes watered, realization settling in, his face becoming impossibly paler than before. "This document," he whispered, "is it an official report?"

"Yes," I answered.

"He was trying to use me as a scapegoat?" asked Viktor brokenly. Tears glazed his eyes, washing the nerves from before and replacing them with a shattering realization of betrayal. "This can't be."

"Thomas, get him a class of water please," I said gently.

"On it."

The door shut behind him, leaving me alone with the confused secretary, who was still rallying his thoughts into one, still trying to figure out the mystery behind his superior. I pitied him.

From the desperation that lined his eyes, I knew that all Viktor ever wanted in life was to feel important, to feel as if he belonged in such a cruel, twisted world. On some level, I felt the exact same. When people achieved success, yes they were scrutinized, but most of all they basked in their glory. People acknowledged all that they achieved, yet getting to that point was always the hardest.

Climbing social ladders always pushed the weakest down. Survival of the fittest always prevailed, and if one could not handle the pressure, they packed their bags and left. That was capitalism, and that would never change. Life in this economy was all about competition and success, trophies and tears. No one cared if one struggled or suffered. No one cared about playing fair.

Viktor had talent, and Gavlik found him and manipulated him into his scheme of destruction. It was a heartless act, but I expected nothing else from Jared Gavlik.

Thomas came back fast, handing the cool drink to Viktor, who eagerly gulped it all.

"Feel better?" I asked.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm... just a little... confused."

"I apologize for being so forward with you earlier," I said, walking around my desk to take a seat. "I wanted you to come to this realization on your own."

Viktor's brows furrowed. "W-Why?"

Thomas snapped at the question, his patience drawing thin and his temper on the surface. "Because Ibrahim isn't like your crummy excuse of a CEO. He actually cares about his employees, and he treats us like humans," he scoffed. "Being a CEO doesn't mean you take advantage of others. It means you're a strong enough leader to bring more fortune to your company and those under you."

"How do I know that Mr. Tarkan won't play me for a fool like Jared?" questioned Viktor sharply.

I smiled, motioning for Thomas to bring a drafted contract we made earlier. "If you sign this document, I guarantee you full protection whether it be economic, legal, or personal. If any harm comes to you, I will treat you as my own and provide you with the best."

"W-Why are you doing this?" he asked, uncertain. "I'm just a secretary. I have no power or influence."

"I don't care about that materialistic stuff," I waved off. "You're talented. The only reason Gavlik got away with so much was because of your meticulous planning and how you were able to clean up all his messes without the media latching on you. You did all his business work for him while he partied away with his youth."

"R-Really?"

Thomas rolled his eyes. "Look, kid. Our company doesn't roll like that. We honor our values and encourage integrity in work ethics," he explained proudly. "You wasted your talents on a man who took advantage of you. This is an opportunity to work for one that will treat you like his equal."

"He's not wrong," I chuckled. "So, what do you say? Would you like to join Tarkan Industries and help us bring justice in this lawsuit?"

"Uh..." he stumbled. "I'm... not quite sure."

"By all means," Thomas said, "you can go back to your CEO. You can continue being treated as an insignificant pawn-"

"Thomas," I warned. "Don't pressure him. The decision is his to make." Briefly turning to Viktor, my voice dropped dangerously low. "Just know, Viktor, with or without you, I will expose G-Wear for all its crimes. I have the evidence, and I have the lawyers."

Although he trembled under my authority, he held his gaze strong against mine, a clash of browns swirling with the electric flare of power, of dominance. I met his with my own fervor, my own desperate attempt to gain justice for all the pain my family, my wife, my friends suffered on my behalf. I wanted retribution for all I lost, and equivalent exchange.

But I knew only Allah could grant me that wish. If I wanted to honor my name, only the truth would suffice, the rest was left to the hands of fate, or in other words, everything else was left to Allah. His plan was surely better than ours.

Standing, I held my hand out. "I ask you again, Viktor Egorov. Will you join us in the next trial as our ally and friend?"

His hand clasped mine. "Okay," he whispered under his breath. "I will testify."

* * * *

The trial was publicized, highly watched by the greedy eyes of the American public, of those who wished nothing but the worst, of those who thirsted after drama. The judge in his silk black robe hit the gavel against its board, summoning us to sit, lawyers quietly advising the two clients who rested on trial, Gavlik and I.

My jaw clenched at the swine from the table adjacent to ours, but I kept my composure. Tasneem, Bashir, and my grandparents sat in the audience along with the reporters and cameras. However, on the other hand, there seemed to be no relatives of Gavlik supporting him, only his father's board of directors, his parents absent either from shame or disbelief.

Again, I felt sorry for the man. He spent his whole life trying to live up to his father's expectations, yet always failed. He took drastic measures for attention like a child clamoring for his parents' approval. Perhaps if they had given him the time of day, none of this would have happened. Maybe then would Gavlik's reputation be salvaged.

Still, nothing excused him for what he did. I had a rough childhood too, but I didn't openly destroy another man's life by choice. I didn't deceive others for personal gain. We were two adults, capable of our decisions, our futures. He took a different route than I, and he would suffer the consequences of his actions.

My only request was that whatever punishment he served that it would be one that was life-changing for him, not torture and cruel. I wanted a punishment that would teach him to never repeat this mistake.

My thoughts halted as my lawyer and friend, Khalil, stood up. "Your honor, I'd like to call a witness to the stand," he announced, voice loud and clear.

"Request granted."

Khalil let out a slow breath, giving me a small smile before proceeding. "Viktor Egorov," he said, tilting his head to the stand in a subtle gesture.

The shy secretary toughened over the past few days, brown eyes hardened like coal, a man that arose from the ashes of his former self. His footsteps carried a new confidence, a new strength among the stones that Gavlik attempted to bury him under, and I couldn't have been any prouder than I was at that moment.

Glancing over at my rival, I saw his eyes widen in disbelief, his plan dissipating before him.

Khalil smiled at Viktor. "Tell me, Mr. Egorov, why did you stop working for Mr. Gavlik?"

"I was offered a better job," he replied.

"So it wasn't because of Mr. Gavlik's attitude towards you or any hidden scheme of his?" questioned Khalil, pacing before the judge, who eagerly listened.

Viktor exhaled. "He was trying to use me as a scapegoat, and I had to get away before I was accused of crimes I did not commit."

"He?"

I could sense the sweat ooze from Gavlik, the pure fear that emulated from his eyes, the frozen panic settling under his pale skin, drops of his meticulously planned escape vanishing. The arrogant Russian no longer existed in this courtroom, his perfect pawn now a man of his own ambitions.

Viktor stared across the empty space between his former boss and him, cold and indifferent to the effect that man once held. "Yes, sir," he said. "I had to escape from Jared Gavlik, CEO of G-Wear."

The puppet became the master. Gavlik thought that he could control every person he came in contact with, that he could toy with people, that there was no consequences to his actions. Viktor was his friend, his loyal secretary, and Gavlik would sacrifice him for his crumbling reputation. I always knew his ego would be his downfall.