Three days later, the office space in Charlottenburg was transformed. Custom workstations had been installed, secure servers established, and the final touches put on what would become the headquarters of Hohenberg Ventures.
Maximilian stood at the window, watching morning light filter through the branches of an old linden tree in the courtyard below. The building had once housed a prominent Jewish banking family before the war—a fact not mentioned in the property listing but discovered during his background research. There was a certain symmetry in reclaiming the space for finance, though he harbored no illusions about correcting historical injustices. Business was business, regardless of the ghosts that might linger in these walls.
A discreet knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.
"Come in," he called, not turning from the window.
"The equipment has arrived, Herr von Hohenberg." The voice belonged to Klaus Weber, a former Bundesbank IT specialist Maximilian had hired as his first employee. "The technicians are setting up now."
"Thank you, Klaus. And the others?"
"Arriving within the hour. Dr. Müller texted that she's running slightly late—something about finalizing her resignation."
Maximilian nodded, suppressing a smile. So Sophia had accepted his offer after all. He'd calculated a 78% probability, but the confirmation was still satisfying.
"Have them shown directly to the conference room when they arrive. I'll join once everyone is present."
When Klaus departed, Maximilian returned to his contemplation of the courtyard below. His phone vibrated with an incoming message from an unlisted number: *Announcement confirmed for Thursday. Steiner's PR team preparing press release. -S*
This was new information—the specific timing of the announcement. Sophia was continuing to provide value, sending details that hadn't been discussed at the Monarch Bar. The precise timing would allow him to position trades optimally.
He moved to his desk—a simple, elegant piece crafted from a single slab of walnut—and opened his laptop. The custom trading algorithm he'd developed at Harvard was ready for implementation, but he needed to adapt it for European markets. The code was elegant in its complexity, identifying patterns across seemingly unrelated data streams that even sophisticated quantitative analysts missed.
For the next forty minutes, he lost himself in the work, making minor adjustments to account for European trading hours and regulatory differences. The algorithm was his edge—the foundation upon which he would build everything else. While other traders relied on conventional metrics and human intuition, his system processed terabytes of data to identify opportunities milliseconds before the market recognized them.
Another knock interrupted his concentration.
"They're all here," Klaus announced. "Including Dr. Müller."
Maximilian closed his laptop and straightened his tie—a subtle Hermès pattern in navy and silver. First impressions mattered, especially with a team this carefully selected.
The conference room was modest but well-appointed, with a polished oak table and ergonomic chairs. Five people sat waiting, their expressions ranging from curiosity to barely concealed skepticism. Maximilian had selected each for specific skills and, equally important, for their outsider status in traditional finance.
"Thank you all for coming," he began, remaining standing at the head of the table. "I appreciate your willingness to join a venture with limited public information."
He surveyed the group methodically. Klaus Weber, the IT specialist. Dr. Sophia Müller, the economist. Dr. Elias Neumann, the mathematician. Fatima Karim, the regulatory compliance expert. And finally, Thomas Berger, the former trader whose brilliant career had been derailed by a public disagreement with his previous firm's ethics committee.
"You're here because each of you possesses exceptional abilities that have been undervalued by traditional institutions," Maximilian continued. "You've been overlooked because you lack the right connections, or because you've challenged conventional wisdom, or simply because you don't fit the expected profile of success."
He noted Sophia's slight smile—she understood exactly what he was doing. Building loyalty through shared grievance was a basic psychological tactic, but effective nonetheless.
"What I'm offering is simple: the opportunity to prove your value without institutional constraints. We will operate at the intersection of algorithmic trading, market analysis, and strategic investment. Our initial capital is modest, but our ambitions are not."
"And what exactly are those ambitions?" Thomas asked, his tone challenging. "Five people and a few million euros doesn't exactly position us as market movers."
Maximilian appreciated the directness. "Our immediate goal is to generate exceptional returns through algorithmic trading. Those returns will attract additional capital and establish our credibility. Within six months, I expect us to have tripled our initial investment. Within a year, we'll be managing external capital. Within three years, we'll be influencing market movements rather than merely responding to them."
"Ambitious timeline," Sophia commented, her dark eyes assessing him coolly. "What's our competitive advantage?"
"Three things," Maximilian replied. "First, my proprietary trading algorithm, which identifies market inefficiencies through pattern recognition across disparate data sets. Second, our structural agility—we can move faster than larger institutions constrained by committees and compliance reviews. And third, this team—specifically selected for complementary skills and perspectives."
He moved to the whiteboard and began sketching the organizational structure. "Klaus will oversee our technical infrastructure. Sophia will lead economic analysis and strategy development. Elias will refine and expand our quantitative models. Fatima will ensure we remain compliant while exploiting regulatory gray areas. And Thomas will manage actual trading operations, implementing the strategies we develop."
"And you?" Fatima asked, her hijab framing an expression of professional skepticism. "What's your role beyond providing capital?"
"Direction," Maximilian answered simply. "I set the vision, identify opportunities, and make final decisions. I also provide certain... connections that will prove valuable."
"Your family name, you mean," Thomas said bluntly.
"Among other things." Maximilian didn't bother denying the obvious. "But make no mistake—this venture operates independently from Hohenberg Holdings. We succeed or fail on our own merits."
He turned to the whiteboard again, writing "Hohenberg Ventures" at the top. "This is our official name for regulatory purposes. Publicly, we're a boutique investment firm focused on algorithmic trading. Privately, we're building something far more significant."
For the next hour, Maximilian outlined his vision in greater detail, answering questions and addressing concerns. He noted which team members engaged most actively—Sophia and Thomas challenging assumptions, Elias quietly calculating probabilities, Fatima identifying regulatory hurdles, Klaus considering technical implementation.
"I have a question about compliance," Fatima said, her voice precise and measured. "Your algorithmic approach will generate patterns that might trigger regulatory scrutiny. How do you propose we navigate that?"
Maximilian nodded appreciatively. "A valid concern. That's precisely why your role is critical. We'll need to structure our trades to remain within regulatory boundaries while maximizing effectiveness. I'm not asking anyone to cross legal lines—I'm asking you to help us identify where those lines actually are, not where conventional wisdom places them."
Fatima made a note in her portfolio. "I'll need complete transparency on trading strategies to ensure compliance. My expertise is in identifying regulatory frameworks that allow for innovation while maintaining legal boundaries."
"You'll have it," Maximilian assured her. "Your focus will be exclusively on regulatory compliance, not on trading itself. I understand and respect that distinction."
By the time they broke for lunch—catered by one of Berlin's finest restaurants—the initial skepticism had largely given way to cautious excitement. Even Thomas, the most openly dubious, had begun proposing refinements to the trading strategy rather than questioning its fundamentals.
"We begin trading tomorrow," Maximilian announced as they finished their meal. "Today is for setup and orientation. Klaus will show each of you to your workstations and provide security credentials. I'll meet with each of you individually this afternoon to discuss specific responsibilities and expectations."
As the team dispersed, Sophia remained behind, studying him with that analytical gaze he remembered from university.
"Impressive performance," she said when they were alone. "You've changed since Munich. More polished, less impulsive."
"Harvard's influence," he replied. "Americans excel at packaging substance within style."
"And which are you offering this team? Style or substance?"
"Both, of course." He met her gaze directly. "The algorithm works, Sophia. I've tested it extensively."
"I believe you." She gathered her notes. "But algorithms don't account for human psychology or political disruptions. That's where your team adds value—if you actually listen to them."
"That's why you're here. To ensure I don't miss the human factors."
She smiled slightly. "Among other reasons." She moved toward the door, then paused. "Your brother called me yesterday."
Maximilian kept his expression neutral despite his surprise. "Alexander? What did he want?"
"To offer me a position at Hohenberg Holdings. Very generous terms."
"And?"
"I declined, obviously." She studied his reaction. "He mentioned that your father doesn't approve of your independent venture. Said it would be better to 'join the winning team.'"
Maximilian absorbed this information, recalibrating his assessment of Alexander's strategy. His brother was moving faster and more aggressively than anticipated.
"Alexander has always preferred undermining to competing directly," he said carefully. "Did he mention anything else?"
"Only that your father's health might necessitate accelerated succession planning." Sophia's expression softened slightly. "Is that true? Is your father ill?"
"He has a heart condition. Nothing immediately life-threatening." Maximilian frowned. "Alexander is manipulating the situation for his own advantage."
"Family dynamics are not my concern," Sophia said, her professional demeanor returning. "I accepted your offer because it presents the most interesting intellectual challenge. Just be aware that your brother is actively working against you."
"I'm aware." Maximilian moved to the window, considering the implications. "Thank you for telling me."
After Sophia left, Maximilian remained at the window, mentally adjusting his strategy. Alexander's interference was predictable but concerning. His brother had always been risk-averse and traditional, preferring to maintain the family's existing power rather than expand it. If he was actively recruiting Maximilian's team members, the competition between them had entered a new phase.
The rest of the afternoon passed in a series of focused meetings with each team member, establishing clear expectations and responsibilities. By evening, the office had taken shape—workstations configured, security protocols established, initial trading strategies mapped out.
As the others departed, Maximilian remained, reviewing the day's progress. The foundation was laid. Tomorrow, they would begin actual trading. Small positions at first, establishing patterns that would appear random to outside observers but follow a precise strategy. By Friday, they would be fully positioned for the Steiner announcement. By Sunday's family dinner, he would have concrete results to report.
His phone vibrated with another message from Victoria: *Father asking about Sunday dinner. Confirms you're expected. Mother planning something special.*
Maximilian smiled slightly. Four days to prepare for the family gathering. Four days to generate initial results that would silence Alexander's criticisms and pique his father's interest.
As he gathered his things and headed down to the garage, Maximilian mentally reviewed his next steps. The Mercedes-Maybach glided through the evening traffic, its presence commanding without demanding attention—exactly like its driver. Maximilian von Hohenberg was no longer merely the second son of a prominent family. He was becoming something else entirely: an independent force in a game whose rules he intended to rewrite completely.
The first moves had been made. The game was underway.