**Episode 13: The Rise of Reza**
**Ten Years Ago – Chattogram Port**
The night was heavy with fog, the air laced with the stink of oil, salt, and power. Ships creaked at dock, offloading crates under dim, flickering lights. Amid the chaos, a young man in a black jacket stood silently, watching.
**Reza Murad.**
He wasn't anyone then. Not to the world.
But to the men in the shadows — the arms dealers, ex-intel ghosts, and fallen politicians — he was already a name worth remembering.
That night, Reza met with two men: **Colonel Wahid**, a disgraced military tactician, and **Rufan Bose**, a billionaire money launderer with ties to Southeast Asia's black markets.
"You want to build a private army?" Wahid asked, half-laughing. "That takes a government's budget and a madman's will."
Reza's reply was calm. Cold.
"Governments are slow. Empires are temporary. What I want to build is permanent."
Wahid leaned in. "And what's that?"
**"A network."**
Not just of weapons. But people.
Hackers. Ex-spies. Mercenaries. Bankers. Orphans trained in deception. Journalists willing to bend truth for the right price. Politicians who owed favors.
In exchange, Reza offered them something rare: **protection from exposure**, and **untraceable power**.
The deal was made.
**Over the next five years**, Reza's web grew silently.
He created companies like **Black Dune**, fronts for data operations. He sponsored fake NGOs to move money under the guise of aid. He hired ghost programmers to manipulate surveillance across borders.
But he stayed invisible.
His rule was simple: *never become the story.*
That is, until the **Ahsan Group** tried to shut him down.
Ziaul Ahsan had once refused to partner with him. Had even exposed one of his early shell companies in a private report to the intelligence bureau. Quietly, but effectively.
Reza never forgot that.
And when the time was right — when Ziaul was old, and his heir too untested — **Reza returned.**
Not as a criminal.
But as a **ghost with a kingdom.**
**To be continued…**