World's Richest Man: I Leaped Across Time

After the applause died down, I stepped off the stage and found myself nearly colliding with Amber again. She grinned, practically glowing in her pink Juicy Couture tracksuit. "Jack, could I get your autograph?" she asked, holding out a crumpled notebook with hopeful eyes.

"I'm not a celebrity," I said with a wry smile, but I grabbed a pen and scribbled my name anyway. She beamed, tucking the notebook close as if it were a treasure.

Within minutes, a small group of corporate types surrounded me, eager to pick apart my ideas and talk numbers. I exchanged quick words and business cards with them—a brief taste of the high-stakes world beyond the stage. Then, Professor Blake from Gainesville, a familiar face from my past academic battles, made his way over.

"Jack," he said in a low, approving tone, "I think that's enough. What you've said today—now it only needs to be written as a thesis, it will be a real masterpiece." I nodded, appreciating his candid support.

Soon after, Charlotte and I slipped out of the hall together. In the cool corridor light, our conversation turned to more personal plans.

"Remember our yacht outing on May 29th?" Charlotte asked, a spark of excitement in her eyes. "I invited Valentina, and I know you've already called Jacob and Lucy. Your childhood friend... what was her name..."

"Britney."

"Yea, Britney, she's in too, right?"

"Absolutely," I replied. "Plus, Sam confirmed, and Mia—she's still recovering, her legs are a bit weak, but she really wanted to join. That makes eight of us. And of course, there's the captain, the cook, and another crew member. We'll be setting sail from the port in Fort Lauderdale on Saturday."

...

Over the next week, while everyone was still talking about the talk, I kept building my anonymous persona.

I took some risks in the market, pumping a few key stocks and hyping up Bitcoin.

Bitcoin surged from $1.8 to $3 in just a week, and even block mining activity spiked.

I had deduced from some of the comments on Yahoo that mainstream financial media was starting to pick up on the penny stock moves.

They were catching on to something unusual.

To be completely honest, I lost some money on those pumps. After the initial surge, no fresh big money stepped in, and I found myself trapped in positions that didn't pay off.

It wasn't a net positive, but it was a necessary sacrifice.

I planned to take a short break to delay any kind of investigation, and in that time, the media and the chatter on Yahoo kept the fire stoked without me having to lift a finger.

One crisp morning, I sat at the kitchen table with Charlotte, a fresh cup of coffee in hand. We were talking quietly.

"Jack," Charlotte said, her voice filled with excitement, "I can't wait for the weekend. The weather is supposed to be perfect."

I was really looking forward to that yacht outing. It'd be great to get away for a bit and enjoy the open water. But there was one more thing to sort out, the May Freewinds club meeting.

"Neither can I," I agreed, setting down my mug. "But before that, I need to deal with the Freewinds Meeting."

"Tonight? But the yacht is tomorrow."

"I know, It's unavoidable. I'll be home as soon as I can."

Those were my last words before I had to go. The Freewinds club was always a bother, but I had to play along with both the club and Liberation. I had important information, and missing this meeting was not an option.

That day, after a sweet kiss with Charlotte, I drove to the airport.

Soon, I landed in New York and stepped onto the deck of the Freewinds yacht. There were many guests talking and laughing.

I walked straight to the balcony, ready for the auction to begin.

This time, someone different started the auction. It was not the usual masked woman, who looked like a man and had a squicky voice.

Instead, an older man took the stage.

He looked as if he had stepped out of an old storybook from the 1800s. His neat suit, complete with a high collar and polished shoes, made him seem out of place. But it did made me think.

'He might really be from the 1800s...'

I noticed Soros, state governors, billionaires, and multi-millionaires—all with expressions of surprise.

'Why I had never seen this man before. Is he very important?'

Emily was sitting silently next to me. I was minding my own business a few minutes ago when she sat next to me without a word. She wore a bright yellow dress and had matching yellow lipstick. It was an odd choice, but it made her look unique.

The old man cleared his throat, his voice soft and strong all at once. "Ladies and gentlemen," he began, "I have an important announcement. Hunter Roschild has been located."

His words dropped like pebbles into a still pond.

He paused, then added, "We thank the anonymous friend who uncovered his hiding place. I will meet with that person privately."

Leaning forward with a knowing smile, he continued, "It's quite amusing looking at your faces. You are probably wondering who this old man on stage is. Well, depending on your performance, maybe one day you will get to know." He laughed heartily, and then the heavy velvet curtains closed, hiding him from sight.

'I guess I wasn't the only one who didn't know who that strange man was then...'

The rest of the auction went by quickly, and nothing else caught my eye. I sat back in my seat, lost in my own thoughts about the odd announcement, when a tall, graceful model walked over to our table.

I knew that I would be called to the backroom. But there something was a little different this time.

I glanced at Emily. Her eyes were wide and full of wonder as she stared at the woman. It was not strange at all; she was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She had shiny, silky, midnight brown hair that fell in soft waves, and her skin glowed like moonlight.

Her eyes sparkled like tiny stars, and her smile was gentle and warm. She wore a dress that shimmered like a quiet stream under the sun. Every move she made was natural and yet it begged for attention.

'Charlotte would be envious if she knew I felt this way.' But there was no other way to explain it. Even if I tried to hide my feelings, I could not help but notice how breathtaking she was.

Now, it wouldn't be the end of the world if she was just a beautiful model, what's crazy is that I knew this woman.

"Operator Liliana?" I asked, confused.

She smiled, and for a moment, I forgot where I was. The smile had a pull like a tide, slow and dangerous.

"Master is waiting for you to come talk with Him," she said, her voice smooth like velvet.

'Master?'