And right on time—12:30 a.m.
His eyes snapped open, wide and alert, like someone had whispered, “You owe me money,” into his ear.
Anthony groaned and fell back onto the bed.
“Ah, sleep. What did I do to you? Did I offend your ancestors?”
Silence answered him, as usual.
Five years ago, everything had been different.
His parents were alive.
The house was noisy.
His mother would shout from the kitchen, “Anthony, if you don’t come and eat now, I will give your food to the dog!”
His father would laugh loudly. “Let the boy rest, woman. He is running companies, not chasing goats.”
Anthony would roll his eyes. “Daddy, please. I’m not chasing goats.”
“Good, because goats will defeat you.”
Laughter. Warmth. Life.
Then everything ended.
A car accident.
One phone call.
One moment gone.
Just like that.
The funeral had not even ended when the war began.
His uncle. His cousin. Family turned into competitors overnight.
“You are too young to run this empire.”
“Your father promised me shares.”
“You don’t understand business like we do.”
Anthony had looked at them calmly. “Try me.”
And they did.
Court cases. Boardroom fights. Betrayal. Backstabbing.
At some point, even the family lawyer started sweating as if he were watching a Hollywood movie live.
But Anthony did not break.
He fought, and he won every single time.
He protected the empire, expanded it, multiplied it.
But while he was winning outside, inside he was quietly losing something.
Sleep.
Peace.
Rest.
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