The breaking point came when Sam (USA) arrived for a high-level summit. Sam walked in, chewing gum, his feet almost on your table, acting like he owned the room. Sam: "Listen, kid. We need you to open up those Straits for our fleet. No questions asked. We’re your big brothers, remember? We keep you safe." The room went ice-cold. Atatürk stepped out from the shadows. He didn't yell; his voice was a low, vibrating growl that made the glass on the table chatter. Atatürk: "Big brothers? My daughter has no brothers. She has a father, and she has her own strength. You speak of 'opening' what is hers? The Montreux Convention was written in blood and ink, not in your 'interests.' You will take your feet off her table, or I will show you how we treated the last 'Empire' that tried to dictate our borders." Sam's face went from pale to ghostly white. He looked at you, then at the man who was supposed to be a statue in a museum. He didn't say a word. He gathered his papers and practically ran out of the room.