"I like your style, kid," Saul gave a quick snap of his fingers in approval. "You're right, everyone's on a timer. No one knows what's coming. Hell, I could drop dead the second I walk out of here."
"Why? Do you have a lot of enemies?"
Saul chuckled. "With my line of work, it's a wonder I don't have a target on my back. But here I am, still breathing. Guess that says enough."
The waitress arrived with a plate of pancakes and topped up the coffee. He poured syrup over the stack.
"You remind me of a guy from back in '09," Saul said, wiping syrup from his fingers. "Total genius. High school chemistry teacher turned meth kingpin."
"Enough stories," Terrence interrupted. "Just explain the process."
"Alright, alright. Straight to business. First, we set up the LLC—name it something forgettable. Generic consulting firm, nothing flashy. That's your clean face."
Pulling a pen from his pocket, Saul began scribbling on a napkin.
"Next, we open two accounts under the business. One you use to receive transfers—crypto converted to fiat through a gray-market exchange I know. The other stays clean. That's where your 'consulting fees' go."
Terrence watched closely, eyes on the diagram—two boxes, one arrow leading to a smaller circle labeled safe.
"Then you loop it. Move money from the first account to the second using fake invoices. Make it look like a client's paying you for services. IT support, marketing, research, consultation—whatever sounds boring and real."
Silence stretched for a few breaths, giving time for the information to sink in.
"Every few months, you pay some taxes. Not a lot. Just enough to make the IRS think you're a small fry playing by the rules. Meanwhile, you siphon off the rest—either reinvest, hold in crypto, or tuck it into hard assets."
Terrence spoke without looking away. "Property. Cars… and businesses?"
"Exactly. That's how rich people launder money every day. They just call it wealth management."
He set the pen down. "Whole thing runs smooth, as long as you don't get greedy or lazy."
"How much for all of this?"
"A flat fee to set it up. And five percent of any monthly service you ask me to run."
"I'll hire you on a monthly basis. Get everything ready. Name one Mana Investment, the other TR Consultant. I'll send any documents you need by email."
He paused, then slid an envelope across the table. "This is your consultation fee."
Saul flipped through the cash, eyebrows lifting. "Ten grand ….You really are loaded."
After tucking the cash away, he gave a short nod. "Alright, kid. I'll get things moving today. You'll hear from me soon."
"Good,"
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Done with his tax issue, he moved toward another part of the city.
This area was closer to downtown, where the buildings looked older—like they were built in the '80s. Still, their worn-out charm was easy on the eyes.
He stepped into one of the buildings and took the elevator up to what looked like an office.
"Come in, Mr. Terrence. I've been expecting you."
A middle-aged man stood by the door. His skin was dark, and his build was fit and solid. He wore a formal jacket that looked expensive—tailored and clean.
The office was simple but spacious, featuring a large desk, a few chairs, and shelves filled with folders. Sunlight slipped through a wide, square window.
Looking down, his eyes drifted on the nameplate sitting on the desk.
'Attorney James Morton, CPA, CFP, MBA '
The array of titles made it clear—James wasn't just a lawyer. He was an expert in the financial field.
"Have a seat. It's been a while since we last met. How long—three, four years?"
"Four "
They both sat down slowly in their chairs.
"Attorney, I'm sure you know why I'm here. I want to get all my inheritance."
James nodded, already expecting this .
"Of course, here's everything," he slid a thick folder across the desk.
Terrence quickly flipped through the papers, scanning them as he went.
[Bank Account : $ 957,000 + Interest]
[Stocks and Dividends : 5 blue chips companies]
[Real Estate: One bedroom apartment]
[Real Estate: 10 hectares land]
The thing that caught his attention the most was a piece of land in Alligerville.
He was thinking about buying land to build a bunker—and he actually already owned one. This made things a lot easier.
"So, what do I need to do to get all of this?"
James pressed his fingertips against the desk and began explaining.
"To finalize the transfer, we need to file the necessary paperwork with the court to confirm your acceptance. After the court reviews and approves it, the assets will be officially released to you. I'll manage the process to ensure it goes smoothly."
"Will it take long?"
"Not really. Just a few weeks, but I'll need the money to handle the paperwork. Also, I heard about what happened to—"
"Money's not an issue for me," he reassured.
James nodded without asking any more questions.
"Please read through and sign these papers."
He signed the documents after reading them. Nothing stood out—just standard documents.
"Attorney, Thank you for everything." He stood and extended his hand.
"Terrence, I know what happened was hard. But I'm always impartial with all my clients. Reach out anytime if you need help."
"Alright, I will."
Outside, he took a deep breath. Things were finally starting to come together.
'I should start training my body again. Can't afford to ignore it.'
'But just relying on the small mana in the air is not enough.' His thoughts drifted, then out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a store across the street.
Various gems were displayed in the glass window.
'Wait, how did I forget about that?'