"Why did you let them go?"
Evren's assistant twisted slightly in the passenger seat, nervous fingers gripping a folder. "You should've convinced them. We could've matched their offer—"
Evren Vale didn't speak.He simply exhaled smoke, the edge of his cigarette glowing amber in the low light of the car. The city outside was quiet, hushed by fog and the kind of power only old money recognized. A vintage Mercedes pulled through narrow streets, passing shuttered buildings and blinking neon signs — all blurred by the smog of dusk.
He watched the smoke curl in the cabin, eyes unreadable.His silence said more than words ever could.
They reached a grand estate carved in shadow and old stone. The dealer's home — neutral ground for a deal that had set the city's business circle buzzing.
The assistant opened the door for him. Evren stepped out slowly, trench coat billowing in the breeze. A few of his men stood by. So did the men from the Damaris Group.
Inside, the dealer's CEO, Mr. Armand Callix — a polished man with graying hair and a fox-like smile — greeted them both with a handshake that didn't linger too long.
"Pleasure to see you both," he said, gesturing to the chairs.
The room was thick with tension and expensive cologne.
Evren Vale sat first. Unbothered. Lit another cigarette with the same hand that once buried someone else's past.
Across from him, Mathias Damaris adjusted his cufflinks — gold, of course — and took his seat.
"Still using silence as strategy, Mr. Vale?" Damaris said smoothly. "I hear your numbers are decent, but my people bring results."
Evren exhaled slowly. "Results come with loyalty. Something your people lose when they smell a higher bid."
Mathias chuckled, eyes cool. "The only loyalty in business is to power. And power answers to numbers. My offer is twenty percent higher."
Evren finally spoke, voice low. "You mean long-term leverage."
"This deal is delicate — I've reviewed both offers. Damaris Group's bid is indeed twenty percent higher." Armand said
Damaris gave a slow smile. "It's called vision."
The CEO glanced between them, fingers steepled. "Mr. Vale, your numbers are solid. But from a business standpoint—"
Evren cut him off. "You read the terms?"
Armand blinked. "Yes. The Damaris contract includes—"
"A clause," Evren said, turning his gaze to Damaris. "Page 12. Third paragraph. If you sign with them, they control distribution within a month. Your product. Your channels. Your name — under theirs."
Damaris stiffened. "That's standard protection."
"For them," Evren said coolly. "Not for you."
Armand frowned, suddenly pale. He pulled the contract from the folder and flipped to the page.
Evren leaned back in his chair, unfazed. "I don't offer more. I offer clean. No hidden strings. No buried blades."
The CEO read in silence. The color drained from his face. Then he looked up — and for the first time — he smiled at Evren, not Damaris.
"I appreciate clarity," he said. "And I value control over my own company."
Mathias Damaris clenched his jaw.
"Deal's yours, Mr. Vale," the CEO said, extending his hand. "I'll have my assistant draft the final contract by morning."
Evren didn't shake his hand. He simply nodded once and walked out, smoke trailing in his wake.
Outside, the rain had stopped. His assistant rushed to catch up, wide-eyed.
"I thought we were losing it."
Evren took a final drag of his cigarette. "People pay more when they're desperate. Desperate men always hide something."