November 25th, like every other normal day, it was raining heavily. The room was cool, like there was an AC on max, making every part of the room feel like it was snowing.
Reese leaned back in his chair, staring at the screen of his laptop that illuminated the room in a faint light.
+$194.84
It was his first real win after countless losses. The first time the countless hours he'd spent watching free online courses, reading articles, joining sketchy forums, and fumbling through demo accounts had finally paid off.
Reese laughed softly under his breath, a disbelieving kind of chuckle that escaped before he could stop it.
He hadn't slept more than a couple of hours the night before, eyes glued to candlestick patterns and RSI indicators.
It hadn't always been this way, though. Reese could still remember being thirteen, three years after his mother left with a rich hot shot, wide-eyed, thumbing through battered old books he found behind his father's closet.
Currency Wars Vol 1: Luck Vs Skill
Currency Wars Vol 2: Trading Vs Investments
They were the only thing his father left behind that felt like a clue, or simply put, a map showing him the way to actually survive alone.
Everything about Marcus Miles was a wound too old and too ugly to even touch.
Reese started trading as a result of curiosity, something that made him feel connected to the man he barely knew.
Then curiosity turned into a hobby, and then obsession, the moment he realized people were making real money... like bastard money, just by sitting in front of their screens.
By fourteen, he had scraped together his pocket money to open a tiny Forex account. His first trade was clumsy, a desperate buy on GBP/USD because someone online said it would "moon."
It didn't. In fact, he lost everything in thirty minutes.
The losses piled up faster after that. He made $50 one week, lost $200 the next. Kids at school found out. They laughed, said he was chasing fantasies.
Some older ones said, "You really think you're gonna get rich, bum?" "Like your scammer dad."
Still, he couldn't let it go. They were right, but it didn't mean he would just give up.
A month after his father was arrested, when he was fifteen, he flipped his first actual real profit, $500 off a gold trade he stumbled into by accident.
It felt like breathing for the first time. But that high didn't last. In the months that followed, he lost more than he ever thought possible. He borrowed where he shouldn't have. Lied when he had to.
And somewhere in the middle of it all, his father escaped from prison and never returned.
Now, at twenty-two, Reese sat in the same chair he'd sat in since he was a teenager, older but not much wiser, staring down at a market that never cared whether he won or lost.
He dragged his eyes back to the screen. EUR/USD was coiling tight, candles stacked inside a narrow range. It wasn't even moving at all.
He knew better than to rush, especially since he told Trey about how he'd been trading the past few years.
And Trey drilled it deep into his skull, over and over: "Stop rushing. We are not Russians, idiot. Snipers wait. We don't chase, whether we see it or not, we let them come to us."
Reese exhaled.
The foreign exchange market, forex...wasn't new.
It had been born after the collapse of the Bretton Woods system in 1971, when the U.S. cut the dollar loose from gold.
Before that, money had been tied to real metal.
After, it floated on nothing but faith, and supply and demand.
The world happened to adapt to it faster than anything. Today, Forex was the largest financial market on Earth, moving more than seven trillion dollars every single day, more than all the stock markets combined.
Then came crypto. Bitcoin, born from the ashes of the 2008 crash, offered something new, money without banks, without borders.
People laughed at it at first, like they always laughed at anything different.
Now Bitcoin, Ethereum, and a dozen others were household names, dragging a new kind of trader into the game.
Reese had tried crypto too. Made a few quick flips. But Forex was where he felt at home, where the charts spoke a language he understood better than anything else.
His phone suddenly buzzed on the desk and the screen came on.
New DM on TradersRank.
@MaverickBoss: "Been watching you for a minute. Good entries. You ever think about switching brokers? We run tight institutional spreads. No funny business. Our clients lose billions before they make billions, and you seem like one who might have broken a record of losses. Let's talk if you're serious."
"Is this some kind of joke?" Reese asked no one in particular.
He knew it was real because TradersRank wasn't just a leaderboard for traders... it was also a scouting ground.
Where brokers were given access to track traders and swoop in to offer better deals once they showed potential.
He hadn't even realized anyone had been paying attention to him. Without thinking twice, he called Trey.
It rang twice before Trey picked up.
"Reese, you good?" His voice was calm, that kind of voice that always seemed to pull Reese back from the edge—especially when he lost money.
"I just got a DM," Reese said. "Some broker, MaverickBoss, he says he's been watching my trades. He wants me to switch over. Said something about how his clients lose billions before they make theirs. Sounded… legit, I guess. But have you ever heard of him?"
There was a pause on the other end, then Trey chuckled.
"Yeah. I know who he is... Maverick's firm is serious but brutal. They usually scout young traders who show patience, not just luck. They track guys through TradersRank before offering contracts."
"And he is not your casual trader..."
Reese leaned forward. "So you think I should go for it?"
"If you're ready," Trey said simply. "It's not just about taking the offer. It's about knowing you earned it. You've put in the work, Reese. You deserve to take the next step."
Reese sat there for a moment. He thought of the possibilities, then smiled.
"Yeah," he said. "I'm ready."
"But you'll need to talk to him for better information," Trey stated. "Come over to my place when you're done, so we can celebrate."
"No problem. Can I bring my girlfriend over?" Reese asked as he rose from his seat and grabbed a grey hoodie from the pile of clothes on his bed.
Trey didn't reply for a while. "Well, I'm not particularly comfortable with the fact you're still with her though."
Reese laughed. Of course he knew about that, his girlfriend and Trey graduated from the same highschool, and they never got along for many valid reasons.
"She won't cause you trouble. Just want to celebrate with her."
Trey exhaled loudly. "Alright then. I'll order an Uber for you when you get to her place, just text me."
Reese nodded, pulled on his hoodie, and turned off his laptop. "See you in five."
"Five?" Trey chuckled. "With how slow you are, I doubt I'd see you here in an hour."
"Bet?"
"Hell yeah. 500 if you get here before 12."
Reese laughed as he picked up his key, wallet, and an umbrella, then locked his door behind him with a click. "Be ready to lose 500 bucks, bro."
"I'm counting on it."
_____
Reese made his way into the corner store he always went to when he wanted to treat her.
It wasn't much, but he grabbed a bottle of cheap champagne, some sea salt chips she liked, a bottle of strawberry soda, and a small tub of chocolate-covered almonds, her favorite comfort treat.
He used what was left of the money he had budgeted for the week, not even caring if it left him tight for food.
At least he had something to fall back on, and Trey would always help him out. He just wanted to celebrate to the fullest with her, about his first success, at least.
On his way out, he pulled out his phone from his pocket and tapped on the pinned chat at the top. He had saved her name the same way every guy would save his girlfriend's name.
"Coming over. Got something to tell you."
There was no reply, yet it marked delivered.
'Odd.'
That was fine anyway. She probably left her phone on silent again, like always. Or maybe she was sleeping, curled under her blanket with a movie playing in the background.
He smiled at the thought and picked up his pace, as his excitement doubled.
The rain had subsided by the time he reached her place. He stood in front of the door of her apartment, pressing the buzzer a few times, yet no answer.
He didn't know the passkey, and neither did he have the key to her apartment after she had her door changed.
He was about to try again when a voice called out behind him.
"Are you looking for Tessa?"
Reese turned around. It was an older woman he recognized from the bakery Tessa always bought her pastries from.
She had a plastic bag over her head like a makeshift hood, and a small dog pulling at its leash.
"Yeah," Reese replied, lowering the champagne bag. "Is she home?"
She shook her head. "No, no. I saw her leave about twenty minutes ago. She said she was heading to her cousin's place to drop something off."