After three days of harsh silence, there was no response from Marcus. **Every morning began with anxiously checking his phone, every ringtone stirring hope and fear together in his heart.** Leonardo tried to continue working on the project alone, but discovered that some essential files were encrypted, and others were completely missing. **Each encrypted file was like a locked gate in his mind, each missing document represented a stolen memory, a kidnapped and detained creativity behind digital walls.** **Each encrypted file was like a wound in his memory, each missing document represented a dream that died before seeing the light. They had stolen more from him than just files - they had stolen pieces of his soul.** **He tried to open the files as he did every morning, but the lock screen was like a mirror reflecting a betrayal he hadn't anticipated. Every click on the keyboard reminded him that his ideas had become hostages in a digital prison.** **The encrypted files were like tombstones for his dreams. Every access attempt reminded him that his creativity had become a commodity in Marcus's vault, his thoughts transformed into codes he could not decipher.**
On the fourth day, a brief message arrived: "Meet at the project's new headquarters. Noon tomorrow."
**The message was cold and practical, devoid of any warmth or courtesy, like a message from a boss to a subordinate.**
The new headquarters was a luxurious office in the city center, equipped with the latest technology. But when Leonardo arrived, he discovered that his desk was in a small corner, while Marcus occupied the main office with windows overlooking the entire city. **The distance between his small desk and Marcus's luxurious office wasn't just a matter of meters; it was a gap between the follower and the controller, a symbolic distance between the one who owns the idea and the one who owns the rights.** **The distance between his small desk and Marcus's luxurious office wasn't just a matter of meters; it was a social ladder that Marcus had climbed upon his shoulders. He felt that every piece of furniture in the place screamed of Marcus's superiority and his subordination.** **The soundproof glass between his small corner and the main office didn't just block noise, it blocked his dignity as well. Every look through that glass reminded him of his new position in Marcus's hierarchy.**
"Hello," Marcus said without looking up from his screen. "You're late."
"You didn't specify the exact time."
**Marcus smiled a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "In the business world, those who are late, lose.**
This meeting was completely different. **Marcus no longer made any effort to hide his dominance. He spoke, decided, and directed, while Leonardo sat like a student in a classroom.** **Even the air in his small corner felt different—heavy and saturated with the frustration of shattered hopes. He could see Marcus through the glass, moving as the sole owner, not a partner.**
"I've made some changes to the plans," Marcus said, sliding a file toward him. "The project is taking a new direction."
Leonardo looked at the file. The changes were radical, affecting the core of the original idea.
"But this... this isn't what we agreed upon!"
**Marcus let out a muffled laugh. "Agreed? You need to learn: ideas alone are worthless. Execution is everything."**
**Leonardo felt as if he were looking into a distorted mirror. He could see his image, but it was warped by Marcus's desires.**
"I don't approve of these changes."
"Then you can leave," Marcus said calmly. **"But remember: if you leave, you take nothing with you. Everything is registered in my name."**
**The words pierced his heart like a knife. He had worked for weeks, dreamed, planned, only to discover he was building a palace on land that wasn't his.**
The blow was painful. **At that moment, Leonardo realized the bitter truth: he had merely been a shadow all along.**
**He remained sitting on the curb, the city moving around him as if in a silent film. He had to decide: either surrender to the shadow, or find a way to restore light to his image.**
That night, while walking down the dark street, he didn't find the gray-haired man. But he found something else: **the reflection of his image in a shop window. **He kept staring at his reflection, wondering when this frightened ghost had become the person he saw in the mirror.** **The man he saw in the reflection was strange - lost eyes, trembling lips, an exhausted soul. When did he transform from a dreamer into this frightened ghost? And what shadow is this that now haunts him?** **He didn't recognize the man in the reflection. Where had the dreamer who enthusiastically painted the future gone? When had his bright eyes been replaced by these frightened ones? He was looking at a stranger inhabiting his body.** **It wasn't the fear in the reflection's eyes that terrified him, but the resignation. He saw in their depths a surrender of dreams, a silent agreement to be a shadow instead of a light.**
But the surprise came in the morning. When he opened his email, he found a message from the gray-haired man:**
**"When they shine the light on you, make sure the shadow behind you still belongs to you."**
**Leonardo sat with a blank white paper in front of him. This time, he wasn't planning a project; he was planning to reclaim himself.**