Alpha Trump, The Targeted Man

A Day Like Any Other

Roland Trump stood in front of the tall glass windows of his penthouse, the morning sun casting a golden glow over the bustling city below. From this height, the world looked small, insignificant even, as if every person, every building, and every deal could be controlled with just the right manoeuvre. And Roland Trump was a master of those manoeuvres.

At 45 years old, Roland was a man who had amassed incredible wealth and power, both in business and politics. His rise had been meteoric, fueled by a relentless drive and an almost unnatural ability to outmanoeuvre his competitors. But behind the cold, calculating businessman was a man with a family—his wife, Evelyn, and their two daughters, Isabella and Chloe. Despite his high-profile life, Roland kept his family out of the limelight as much as possible.

Evelyn, his wife of 38 years, was elegant, poised, and supportive, though many questioned how much she truly knew about Roland’s darker dealings. She managed their social appearances with grace, often attending charity events and galas while Roland focused on expanding his empire. Isabella, their eldest daughter, was fourteen—a bright, driven young girl who had inherited Roland’s sharp mind. Chloe, at eleven, was more like her mother, quieter and more introspective, with a love for art and animals. Roland adored his daughters, though his time with them was limited due to his demanding lifestyle.

As a businessman and a political figure, his life revolved around power. His reputation for ruthless efficiency and cold-hearted decisions had earned him both admirers and enemies, but he thrived in the chaos. Every day, there were deals to be made, alliances to be forged, and, more often than not, enemies to be eliminated. Today was no different. Or so it seemed.

Roland turned from the window and strode across the spacious living room, his footsteps muffled by the luxurious carpet. His assistant, Peter, stood waiting with a cup of black coffee in hand, as well as a briefing folder on the latest developments. Peter always came prepared—a trait Roland admired. He took the cup without acknowledging Peter’s presence, flipping through the folder as he walked to his desk.

The day ahead was packed, as usual. A high-level meeting with investors about the Caribbean real estate project was the highlight, but there were also political favours to secure, and media narratives to manipulate. The Caribbean deal had become more complicated recently, especially with his Russian partner, Vitalii Rutin. Vitalii was an oligarch with connections deep within the Kremlin, a man who didn’t flinch at bending the law. Their deal, on the surface, was a lucrative real estate venture, but underneath, it was far more complex—and dangerous. Roland knew the stakes were high, but that was the world he lived in.

Still, there was tension. Vitalii had been more erratic lately, and Roland suspected that something was brewing beneath the surface. He made a mental note to keep a close eye on him.

Just as Roland was about to head into his private elevator, his phone buzzed. The name on the screen stopped him cold—Nathan Trump. His estranged brother.

Roland stared at the phone for a moment before swiping to answer. "Nathan," he said curtly, not bothering with pleasantries.

"Roland," Nathan’s voice was steady, though there was always a trace of bitterness whenever he spoke to his older brother. "We need to talk."

Roland sighed. "I’m busy. If this is about—"

"It’s not about money," Nathan cut him off. "This is about something else, something serious. It’s about Gregory."

Roland’s jaw tightened at the mention of Gregory Dawson. Gregory had been a close friend for decades, ever since their early days in business. They had built empires together, shared secrets, and covered for each other when things went sideways. But recently, their relationship has become strained. Gregory had started making moves without Roland’s consent, and Roland was starting to wonder if Gregory could still be trusted.

"What about Gregory?" Roland asked, keeping his voice neutral, but his mind was already racing.

"Meet me tonight. I’ll explain everything," Nathan said before hanging up abruptly.

Roland stood still for a moment, the phone still in his hand. He hadn’t spoken to Nathan in years. Their relationship had crumbled after a bitter family dispute over their father’s inheritance. Nathan had accused Roland of manipulating the will, a claim Roland never denied nor confirmed. They had been estranged ever since, their interactions reduced to occasional terse messages.

Now, out of the blue, Nathan wanted to talk about Gregory?

Roland shook his head, setting the phone down. He didn’t have time for whatever drama Nathan was trying to stir up. There were more important matters at hand.

As he stepped into the elevator, his thoughts shifted back to the day’s agenda. Vitalii, the Caribbean deal, and the investors. Everything had to go smoothly. The stakes were too high for any missteps.

But deep down, Roland couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming. Something big. The pieces were moving, and even he, with all his control, couldn’t quite see the full picture yet.

The elevator doors slid shut, sealing Roland Trump in the confines of his high-stakes world—where power, money, and secrets ruled, and where every day felt like just another step closer to an unseen danger. Little did he know, this day was different. This was the beginning of the end.

Secrets Beneath the Surface

The conference room buzzed with the low hum of tense conversation as Roland Trump entered, his presence immediately commanding the attention of everyone inside. The men seated at the long, polished table fell silent, eyes shifting toward him. On the surface, the meeting was about a real estate development project—a high-end resort in the Caribbean that was sure to rake in millions. But Roland knew that the men gathered here today were concerned with far more than beachfront properties.

Vitalii Rutin sat near the head of the table, his ice-blue eyes scanning the room with a predator’s gaze. A Russian oligarch with deep ties to the Kremlin and an empire built on oil, arms, and influence, Vitalii was no stranger to high-risk ventures. His imposing figure was a constant reminder that power didn’t just come from wealth, but from fear and control. Roland took a seat beside him, aware of the unspoken tension between them.

T