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img img Romance img Zero To Billionaire
Zero To Billionaire

Zero To Billionaire

img Romance
img 9 Chapters
img Meelah Azna
5.0
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About

John, a struggling office worker, is fired and betrayed all on the same day. A mystery software gives him the opportunity to become wealthier than he could have ever imagined just as he is about to give up. However, there are several obstacles and an odd diversion on the road to riches.

Chapter 1 The End of the line

With each passing minute, the hands of the clock mocked John as it ticked over the peeling break room door. 9:42 a.m. His paper cup of weak coffee carried the bitter flavor of defeat, yet he peered at it as if it contained answers. The fluorescent lights above flickered and buzzed softly, as if they were also sick of acting as if everything in this building still functioned.

Once upon a time, BlackStar Industries was a resilient company that caused a stir in the local IT community. However, those waves were long gone. The house now smelled of calm despair and burned toner. Workers moved through the corridors like specters, their eyes lifeless, their aspirations hidden under spreadsheets and unpaid overtime.

John attempted to ignore the perspiration accumulating at the nape of his neck while adjusting his collar. The tension was already there, a kind of electricity that pricked under the skin. This Monday was not like the others. There was a problem.

His desk was situated next to a drafty window that shook whenever a bus passed at the distant corner of the open-plan floor. It was strange that Mark had not arrived yet. John blinked against the light as he turned to his computer after taking a quick look at the vacant chair next to him. His phone vibrated on the desk as he was ready to click up an email thread about yet another budget cut.

He felt a cold creep down his back. No one was interested in being called into Harris Black's office. Not with "immediately" at the end, in particular.

John fixed his tie and got up, his legs tight from so much sitting. The corridor trek was reminiscent of a funeral procession. Everyone understood the symptoms, and he walked past cubicles full of colleagues who seldom glanced up anymore. It was normally a pink slip when Black summoned you out of the blue.

He pushed the button at the elevator and waited silently, his thoughts racing. Is this the end, really? After seven years of giving everything-staying late, skipping holidays, tolerating weekend calls and eating ramen for months just to keep showing up-was this how it all ended?

With a gentle chime, the elevator doors opened, and John entered. In the mirrored walls, he saw his reflection: weary eyes, thinning hair, and the little outline of stubble from when he had not bothered shaving this morning. He seemed more than thirty-two years old. defeated.

With its thick gray wool carpet that absorbed footfall, the executive level was silent. **H. Black, CEO** was written in gold serif letters on a massive frosted glass door at the end of the hallway. John knocked once. "Enter," a deep voice said.

When John intervened, Harris Black did not even bother to look up. The CEO flipped through a printed report with surgical precision while seated behind a desk that seemed to cost more than John's annual salary.

Black motioned to the leather chair opposite from him and said, "Sit." Every line of his cold, clipped voice had the weight of someone used to being followed.

John sat with his fists clenched in his lap.

"Are you aware of your purpose?" When Black's gaze eventually lifted, he asked. Their blue was lifeless and bland.

John took a gulp. "No, sir."

Black reclined, allowing a pause to pass between them. Then he threw the report with a thump upon the desk. Turner, the business is dying. Like vultures, investors are circling. This is our final opportunity to live, and it does not seem good.

Sensing that talking too soon would only undermine his case, John remained silent.

"Next week, I am meeting with two possible backers," Black said. They are looking for innovation. disturbance. An indication that we are more than simply another rotting corpse in the tech cemetery

Black bent forward. "That is where you can help."

John blinked. "Me?"

"Turner, I need a miracle. Something audacious. A campaign that attracts attention and generates revenue. Something that gives the impression that this business is still viable. You have spent enough time here. You are aware of our shortcomings, voice, and goods. Now is the moment to demonstrate if you have something valuable to preserve.

John let out a long, astonished breath. This was not a dismissal. It was difficult.

"I... With his pulse pounding, John answered, "I will try my hardest, sir."

"No. You will surpass your own expectations. You have got five days.

Black dismissed him as he glanced down at his desk once again. "Do not take up my time."

---

John felt as if someone had just thrown a bucket of freezing water over his head as he left the workplace. Five days. You have five days to come up with an idea that might salvage the business, or at least postpone its demise.

Finally, Mark was back at his desk, holding a half-eaten protein bar. Ignoring the emotional whiplash on John's face, he smiled as he sat down.

"Good morning," said Mark. "You appear to have seen a ghost."

John paused, then leaned a little closer. "Black is hoping for a miracle."

Mark's eyebrows went up. "What kind?"

"Marketing." Something that will restore our innovative image. I have five days to develop a campaign that would attract possible investors.

Mark whistled softly. "A lot of pressure?"

Indeed. But maybe this is my opportunity.

John's voice had a spark in it now that he had not heard in years. He looked at his computer and a blank paper appeared.

John became a man possessed as the hours passed. He turned off his phone, ignored emails, and missed lunch. At first, ideas came in ragged streams, sloppy and disjointed, but eventually, the parts started to fit together.

He had ideas for augmented reality, interactive experiences, and a novel approach to connect the digital and physical worlds. He had an idea for an app that would allow users to get fully immersed in the narrative of a product-gamify the user experience and allow them to explore features in real time. Let them experience what BlackStar is capable of, rather than only telling them about it.

John had pages of flowcharts, drawings, and sample images by the time the sun went down. For the first time in years, he felt alive, even though his eyes hurt and his fingers constricted. This was about rescuing himself, not simply about preserving the business.

He turned to face Mark, who was using his phone to browse memes.

John said, "Hey." "May I present you with something?"

Mark looked up. "Okay, go ahead and shoot."

John swung his screen around. Although it is difficult, I believe this might succeed. User-led experiences combined with augmented involvement provide for immersive marketing. It has a lot of promise, in my opinion.

Mark's gaze slowly moved over the screen. His lips opened slightly and his brows raised. "Whoa. This is really rather good.

John felt a surge of pride in his chest. He felt noticed for the first time in a long time. confirmed.

"You believe so?" With optimism, John inquired.

Mark gently grinned while maintaining eye contact with the television. "Yes, I truly do."

However, something else moved in the depths of his eyes, somewhere behind that grin.

Something colder.

A calculating thing.

John did not see it because he was too preoccupied with the excitement of his own spark.

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