Raimon nodded while punching the air. He was nearly drained—no one can work for hours and hours without end. It was exhausting and pointless. He felt trapped, lost in what they called a safe fall, almost as if nothing were happening. He was on the verge of collapse. But now he had Lamborghini in the bag, and he didn't know what to do next. The money seemed to move faster than his sense of self.
Dangerous—or just difficult to decide.
–We've got it in the bag. –he texted Anne, who was already up to date on every operation they were running. It was a solid job. She didn't resist what was happening; she kept a watchful eye and now turned her attention to metal companies and some factory firms. Having materials on hand was a strategic advantage. The more they could do what was expected of them, the more they could deliver.
–Noted. –Anne replied.
It might be difficult for anyone or everyone. It was almost a blessing that everything was turning out just as they had hoped in the beginning. Something that affirmed they were on the right path. What more could they ask for, besides success? While people murmured his name, he took a deep breath and went around the building. They had to shoot a few scenes—do as much as they could, as much as needed.
–I need to work out. –he whispered, stretching his body. He had dropped 10 kilos; two months ago, he weighed 120, and now he was at 109. That was new for him. He was only 19 kilos away from his ideal weight—something that mattered. He used everything he had to climb out of where he'd been, doing his best not to overeat and snacking only on carrot sticks.
Hard to decide—or just hard. He did what he could. But with the next steps ahead, he reached a long pool where he had to push himself to swim two laps in a children's pool, no deeper than 140 cm, water up to his chest. He tried his hardest to move, to complete the laps. His arms burned as he imagined himself a Jedi, though he would have settled for just being in the Senate.
He caught his breath. He had done what he could. It was so damn hard.
***
Gwen Hallaway arrived in Australia expecting answers—at least all the ones she could get. But everything had already been settled by Julian Robertson, who needed to know even the smallest detail. It might be a far-off place, but who could afford to treat the coming days with indifference?
Billy was lying on a beach table nearly 100 meters above the ocean, on a white terrace. He was breathing in the salty air that rode on the sea breez, —cool winds sweeping in to soothe the coastal cities. Meanwhile, Gwen Hallaway stood there, the typical fair-skinned American woman, with long legs and an air of independence.
–Mr. Carson.Thehe girl asked.
The moment she entered the room, Billy handed her a folder while explaining. Strangely enough, the information came from William Dommer. He had sent a letter that once again flipped Billy's world upside down—problems he thought were long gone began to stir. Dommer wrote that he would be in Australia in two days to explain the real situation.
–What can I say? The information is clear, and I have no excuse. And for at least thirty days now, I haven't understood your boss. He makes money and lands potential deals—just tell him not to ask any questions. Please… –he stepped closer. –For the sake of our families, it's better if we don't ask any questions. –
Billy's fear was real. It had been creeping in for the past two days. He knew true terror—the kind that roots deep and detonates. His life had turned completely upside down, and even then, he didn't know what to do. At least not since the moment everything had been taken from him and pinned on him.
She slipped the document into her purse after reading it and taking the scolding. What can one person do—barely two steps away from disaster? She tried to speak, but the words died in her throat. Billy Carson had much to learn, and everything seemed darker when people started second-guessing one another.
–Then I suppose... –Gwen hesitated. –I'll present this information to Mr. Robertson. I'll send you updates...about the rules, or the negotiation. –
The document was revealing. It detailed every Tiger fund account—private, public, and hidden—and came with a note from the Mason group. The seal was well-known in public circles. If she revealed it, she could be completely threatened. This wasn't just any Masonic symbol. The blue lines, the deliberate smudging, and the image of an angel in the far corner marked it as the emblem of American royalty. She took a breath and left. Billy might not have known the symbol's weight, but he fully understood the report—it filled him with sheer disdain.
–So, it may or may not be true. But let's not waste time. There's a lot to be done in the coming months. You've been very helpful in letting Raimon operate safely. Even if he acts like a fool, he's smarter than he looks. His ideas and experience are a symbol of something that's helped me for a while now—he gave me several investment ideas… –Billy commented.
He was repaying a favor. He had long known Raimon's quirks—how he liked to impress women. When you lose your looks, and even your wallet fails you, all that's left is admiration or charm.
–We have nothing left to do—nothing left to chase. –Gwen sighed.
–Let me treat you to lunch. At least...before your flight leaves. –Billy offered.
...
For thousands of days, people had known every last detail about everyone. And for at least the past 30 years, one of the largest funds had been formed for any company.
A mega corporation was built, praised, then condemned for monopoly. And for at least 70 years, it evolve —from a single firm to one of the wealthiest enterprises. Many believed it was forgotten. But its private funds and properties, sharpened and buried under layers of strategy and secrecy, told another story. In offices, they were seen as relics. Yet they had enough money for their family to live for 500 years—investments that paid out endlessly, companies designed only to rise, fueled by reason and hidden power.
Very difficult. And dangerous—for anyone who looked closely. Some years ago, they lost control of many of those assets. In the crisis of 1980, the risk to their holdings was immense. So disputed, almost cooperative among all parties, each defending their view. How hard it is—when an empire collapses in your hands. With every mistake, your family's timeline shrinks from 500 years to 497—or less. One year lost, spent being frugal, cutting announcements, enduring discomfort, absorbing billions in losses, income taxes, family wars, and disgraceful fools within your bloodline.
...