Though the Nasdaq had quieted down after the market closed, the lights in the major client trading room upstairs remained on.
Chen Shijun had just finished his day's schedule and reached the parking lot, not yet stepping into his car, when an elderly man's voice sounded behind him: "Hi, Mr. Chen, I hope I'm not interrupting your plans."
The eerie voice startled Chen Shijun, causing his briefcase to slip from his hands and hit the ground. Luckily, Chen Shijun was a tech nerd, not a fighter; otherwise, Glenn Fogel, the small, wiry old man, might've been flipped over his shoulder and sent straight to the morgue.
"Mr. Fogel, as a company CEO, I wonder if it'd make tomorrow's headlines if someone beat you up for lurking by their car!" Chen quipped.
"Oh, no, dear Chen, I know you're far too polite for that," Glenn replied smoothly. "Besides, I think tomorrow's news will be more like: 'GreatSale's market cap breaks $3 billion, YouTube founder Chen Shijun and superstar Claire become billionaires.'"
Glenn Fogel had a knack for negotiations, instantly easing the awkward tension.
Chen gestured for Glenn to get in the car, and Glenn hopped into Chen's Buick SUV first. Inside the spacious interior with tinted windows, Glenn surveyed his surroundings but didn't speak immediately, instead offering Chen a sly smile.
"Alright, how much are you offering?" Chen cut to the chase. "If it's less than what I've heard, this conversation's over. I'm not Claire—I don't need the money."
Glenn's brow furrowed instinctively, though he quickly masked it. "For your 14.51% stake, we're proposing an acquisition based on a $2.5 billion valuation. If someone else has approached you, I guarantee their offer won't match ours. Our goal is simple: we want to use your company's position to break into the market."
Chen's heart skipped a beat. Back when GreatSale was still called "Claire's Custom Travel," he'd only invested $8 million as an angel investor. Now, with a $2.5 billion valuation, he stood to make at least $260 million—a return that would tempt anyone.
But Claire's earlier words echoed in his mind, and he replied coolly, "Claire's shares aren't for sale to you. Her stake is going to Caesar Travel."
"Caesar Travel is backed by Poly Group. Have you thought through those connections?" Chen pressed.
"This is an opportunity you can't afford to miss," he added.
Glenn stayed calm until Chen mentioned Poly Group, which made him pause. He was familiar with Big Four conglomerates, and who Poly might sell those shares to—or who might end up holding them—was anyone's guess.
"What are you suggesting?" Glenn asked.
"Raise the valuation. Claire deserves more."
"I've thought it over," Chen continued. "You're here to manipulate the market tomorrow, tank Expedia's stock, and then buy low, sell high. I get it. So consider what I'm saying."
With that, Chen closed his eyes, signaling the conversation was over. Glenn, unfazed, stepped out of the car with a serious expression.
---
Meanwhile, Claire Lee sat discreetly in a thick scarf at the famous Starbucks near Times Square. The shop's bustling business could make any small business owner jealous. Claire, looking smug, gazed at the neat row of storefronts and said, "Give me a few months—I'm buying one of those shops!"
Costa, her companion, glanced at the location and shrank back. Even if the owner was willing to sell, it'd cost Claire a fortune. At this point in time, U.S. real estate prices could crush the average person.
"But I've gotta say," Costa remarked, "a single stock made me $140,000 so easily. Should I be thanking you?"
Claire shrugged nonchalantly. "Buy me a coffee, and we're square."
Costa envied Claire's casual attitude. As a British middle-class worker, he knew how hard it was to earn $140,000. Yet Claire's effortless guidance had netted him more than half a year's income. He couldn't help but grin.
As Costa zoned out, a tall woman with a Coach shoulder bag approached them.
"One latte!" she called out.
Claire immediately scurried to the counter, while Costa, sensing the moment, stepped outside the Starbucks.
"How've you been?" Claire asked the woman, Du Juan.
"Thanks to you, I landed a great film crew. No one's giving me trouble or bullying me," Du Juan replied, playfully kicking Claire's shin when she saw his familiar cheeky grin.
Claire dramatically clutched his leg, groaning, "Ouch, ouch!"
Du Juan sipped her coffee and raised an eyebrow. "Your company went public today. Why are you just chilling in a coffee shop?"
"You ever heard of 'hating the rich'?" Claire said. "If I came from nothing like most people, my fans might feel close to me. But if I'm up there ringing the bell on camera, they might turn on me."
Du Juan chuckled at Claire's novel take.
Just then, Claire's phone pinged with a notification: New Century Financial's mortgage loans dropped 340% compared to February 2006!
Claire, who'd been chatting casually, suddenly felt a chill. New Century Financial was a top-three U.S. mortgage lender, and a drop like that would've been huge news in the past—yet someone had buried it.
Du Juan, noticing Claire's intense focus, leaned in curiously, her head close to his. Claire caught a whiff of her feminine scent, a fragrance that instantly lifted his mood. As he glanced at her, Du Juan's striking profile came into view. Their faces drew closer, and whether it was his imagination or not, Claire sensed her breathing quicken.
"Ow! Why'd you pinch me?" he yelped.
Du Juan glared at him. "Men really do get worse when they're rich," she muttered.
"Rich? I don't even know how much I'll cash out yet," Claire grumbled, deflating.
---
The next morning, Orff woke early, rubbing his sore back and muttering about the "crazy woman" still asleep in his bed. After freshening up, he trudged to his garage, started his car, and, with dark circles under his eyes, prepared to head to the Nasdaq.
A black Mercedes suddenly blocked his path. Already exhausted, Orff's temper flared. "What the hell? You think you're hot stuff in a Mercedes? Do you know—"
Before he could finish, the car's window rolled down.
"Sylvie?" Orff said, stunned.
"Oh, you know me? That makes this easier," Sylvie replied. "Care to join me in my car? I think we should collaborate today."
"Collaborate?"
Sylvie's commanding aura was undeniable. Orff frowned, ready to refuse, but she cut him off. "Booking.com decided this morning to buy GreatSale's remaining shares from Chen Shijun at a $3 billion valuation. If you don't work with me, you'll be stuck with just $500,000 from GreatSale."
Orff's face reddened with anger. "You investigated me?"
"I don't mind sending a letter to Blackstone about your 'questionable personal conduct' if you'd rather negotiate like this," Sylvie shot back.
Orff glanced back at his house. He'd never felt so cornered. Sylvie had clearly come prepared, and if he didn't comply, he could lose his job as a junior wealth manager.
---
Glenn Fogel stood with his arms crossed, smugly watching the bustling floor below like ants at work. A man with a folder stood behind him, updating him.
"GreatSale's opening price is climbing steadily, likely due to yesterday's buzz drawing in small funds looking for quick profits. Should we shake things up?"
"No need," Glenn said. "Let everyone make money so we can all get rich. Today, we just keep buying—no matter how much they sell, we buy."
The man behind him looked shocked. "Boss, our funds are tight, and someone saw Blackstone's fund manager with Sylvie getting out of a car today."
"So what?" Glenn scoffed. "Contact the banks now. Pledge all our GreatSale shares for equity loans. Our job today is to keep buying to push the market cap to $3 billion."
"Sylvie's just playing the hedge fund game, causing small dips," Glenn continued. "As long as we have enough capital to hold the stock price, we're untouchable."
Glenn's strategy was straightforward: use bank leverage to amplify his stock holdings, absorbing shares during Sylvie's sell-offs. The price fluctuations from these dips could generate profits, and with other investors and small funds jumping in later, Booking.com could cash out big while securing a key to the tourism market.
It was a gamble—Glenn was betting Sylvie didn't have the guts to match his leveraged play.
---
In less than an hour after the market opened, GreatSale's trading volume skyrocketed, landing it in the Nasdaq's top ten most active trades. The stock swung wildly—crashing one moment, surging the next—leaving retail investors dizzy.
By afternoon, a sweating Orff confronted Sylvie. "I've used every cent of my available funds!" he snapped. "I'm already down nearly 30%! It's time for your money to step in!"
Sylvie stayed silent, her eyes fixed on GreatSale's trading data. The buy-side still had nearly $100 million in orders, not counting Glenn's leveraged funds. If Glenn doubled down, they could lose.
Instead of responding, Sylvie glanced at her staff. Orff, anxious, feared she'd pull out. She reached into her bag, pulled out an envelope, and placed it on the table.
"We're done," she said calmly. "This envelope has everything I got from a private investigator about you. Today's deal stays between us."
Without another word, Sylvie strode out of the trading room, leaving Orff red-eyed and ready to argue—but she was already gone.
---
Four days after GreatSale's IPO, Chen Shijun left New York. The past few days at the Nasdaq had been eye-opening, even for him. The National Association of Securities Dealers had stepped in, first revoking Orff Kent's financial advisor license, then announcing that Blackstone had fired Orff for violating internal policies and demanded an investigation into GreatSale's trades.
Within an hour, Sylvie, through Jones Day law firm, filed a lawsuit with the Supreme Court, alleging Orff had assaulted her outside the Nasdaq over a dispute. The audacity of her preemptive strike stunned Chen. Orff, in turn, hired the same firm to sue Sylvie for extortion, blackmail, and misappropriation of company assets.
Chen realized he was a mere rookie in the financial world. If Claire hadn't warned him to cash out after the IPO, he might've been dragged into the mess.
Glancing at Glenn Fogel's secretary leaving with a contract, Chen muttered, "Is this finally over?" before boarding his flight.
---
As Claire stepped off his plane, his phone buzzed incessantly with notifications. Du Juan instinctively glanced at his screen and froze. "One, two, three… eight!" Claire whispered.
"Premium share acquisition compensation? What's this? They sent you $120 million?!" Du Juan's suitcase hit the ground in shock. Her current film, City in Love, had a budget of 23 million RMB, yet Claire's windfall could fund dozens of such projects.
Claire was equally stunned. He tried calling Chen Shijun, but his phone was off.
"That's a lot of money, huh?" Claire said.
Du Juan, wide-eyed, nodded. "I don't even know what to say. Let's head home. I bet Old Chen's on his way to Hawaii."
Claire grabbed her hand and headed to the airport's parking garage. For once, Du Juan didn't resist, following him quietly.
At the parking lot, Welch, their driver, was waiting by the minivan, looking cheerful—until he saw Claire with a woman. His expression shifted dramatically.
"What's with the face? Haven't seen me in a while, and this is the welcome I get?" Claire teased, loading Du Juan's luggage.
Welch, sweating, leaned in and whispered, "Ms. Jessica Jung and Ms. Lucy are visiting!"
Claire, rummaging in the trunk, didn't catch it. "Visitors? The house is big enough for guests. Makes it lively."
Welch's eyes widened. Just as he headed to the driver's seat, Claire popped up from the trunk. "Wait, what did you say?"
---
At Claire's house, Jessica Jung, dressed in casual loungewear, acted like the lady of the house. She poured green tea for Damien Chazelle, sitting in the living room, and chirped, "Are you one of Claire's good friends? He never mentioned you on the phone."
Damien blushed, unsure how to respond. Lucy, in a leather jacket, glanced at Jessica, said nothing, grabbed a coffee and some newspapers, and headed upstairs.
Jessica, sensing Damien's awkwardness, muttered in Korean, "So boring," before grabbing the remote and flipping on the TV. Her antics left Damien squirming as if sitting on pins.
"When's Claire getting back?" Damien asked.
Jessica glanced at the clock. "Soon. The driver's gone to pick him up—maybe half an hour."
Half an hour passed quickly, but Claire didn't show. Damien, noting the darkening sky, said, "It's getting late. Maybe call and check?"
Jessica, as if prompted, jumped up and shouted upstairs, "Lucy! Lucy! Lucy!"
Lucy peered down from the second floor. "What's up?"
"Do you know what your brother likes to eat? Let's order takeout so Claire doesn't come home hungry."
Lucy rolled her eyes. "Brother? I'm a guest too. How would I know?"
---