The meeting room on the twenty-second floor seemed like it belonged to another world. Glass walls overlooking the city, a conference table made of gleaming mahogany, and luxurious leather chairs. **Leonardo paused at the door for a moment, feeling his heart pounding violently, as if he were about to enter an uneven wrestling ring.**
When Leonardo entered, Marcus was already sitting with three men wearing impeccably ironed suits. They were all laughing at a joke Marcus had told, as if they were old friends.
"Hello, Leonardo! Come sit next to me," Marcus said, pointing to the empty chair beside him.
Leonardo sat down, trying to appear confident. **His hands sweated under the table, fingers interlocking so tightly his knuckles turned white. Each time he tried to speak, his throat dried up as if filled with sand.** He felt torn between gratitude for Marcus's trust and the fear of being unworthy of this dazzling world.
Marcus began speaking: "Gentlemen, I'd like to introduce you to my partner, Leonardo. He is the mastermind behind the brilliant idea."
One of the men, a large-framed man with piercing eyes, looked at Leonardo. "So, you're the original creator of the idea?"
"Yes, I..."
"What Leonardo means," Marcus smoothly interrupted, **"is that he is the innovator, while I handle the executive side."**
**A voice inside Leonardo screamed: 'This is my idea! I should be the one speaking!' But another, more fearful voice whispered: 'Let him talk, he knows what he's doing. Don't ruin everything.'**
Throughout the meeting, Marcus was the star. He spoke confidently, presented numbers, and anticipated challenges. **Every glance from the investors made him feel like an intruder; every laugh reminded him that he was outside the circle of trust.** He spoke fluently, while Leonardo sat in silence, feeling his presence shrink with every passing minute.
Whenever Leonardo tried to make a comment, Marcus would either tactfully ignore him or present his idea as if it were complementary to what Marcus was saying, not independent in its own right.
**It was a strange feeling: as if he were a ghost in his own room.** The men looked at Marcus with admiration, while they looked at Leonardo with a hint of curiosity, as if wondering: what role does this shy person play in this partnership? **In Marcus's theater, he was just a puppet that moved when the string was pulled. Even his appearance on stage was timed by Marcus, and his disappearance was at Marcus's discretion.**
When the meeting ended, the investors shook Marcus's hand warmly, then turned to Leonardo with a cold handshake. **Their icy handshakes left a chill in his palm that settled deep in his heart. He felt as though he had lost something more than just a chance to speak - he had lost a piece of his identity.**
In the elevator on the way down, the silence was heavy. **In the silence of the elevator, his mind was screaming in protest, but his tongue was bound by threads of fear and gratitude.** Marcus stood there smiling, while Leonardo felt his personality melting away like wax under the heat of Marcus's dominance.
Then Marcus said: "It went well, didn't it?"
"Yes, but..."
"But what?" said Marcus, adjusting his tie. "You know I had to control the conversation, right? These men... they need someone who knows how to handle them."
**Leonardo left the building feeling smaller than when he had entered.**
That night, he stared at the ceiling of his room. "What went wrong? Why couldn't I speak?"
Suddenly, he remembered the words of the gray-haired man: "Every thread you give today will become a rope that binds you tomorrow."
He had to do something. But what? **He was trapped between two fears: the fear of losing the project and the fear of losing the only friendship he thought he had found.**
**He kept trying to understand the moment he transformed from the owner of an idea into a decoration in Marcus's theater, a puppet that moves when the strings are pulled, appearing when needed, and disappearing when not needed.** The role he played in the meeting was just a faint image of the person he thought he was.