Free Web NovelChapter 166: Chapter 166: Too Late...
Flashback:
Inside a hidden, soundproof monitoring suite, five high-tier financial analysts sat in an ergonomic semicircle, their faces illuminated by the synchronized glare of sovereign-level ledger tracking software. These weren’t standard auditors; they were the ghost team tasked with keeping tabs on the capital footprints of Veyra’s most massive corporate entities. And for the past forty-eight hours, their screens had been entirely locked onto the liquidity pools of Golden Investments.
Suddenly, a series of crimson alert banners slashed across the main terminal, accompanied by a sharp, high-pitched system chime.
"What just happened?" the senior analyst at the center console demanded, his fingers flying across his keyboard as he tried to force a manual override. "The domestic liquidity baseline for the primary Golden Investments vault at Sterling International just dropped a vertical cliff! Look at the aggregate indicator!" freewёbnoνel.com
"I’m pulling up the telemetry now," the technician to his left stammered, his eyes widening in sheer disbelief behind his glasses. "The numbers are... they’re collapsing in ten-digit increments! Ten billion... twenty billion... thirty billion... It’s not stopping!"
"Is it a system glitch? A server desynchronization?"
"No, sir! The cryptographic handshakes are completely valid! It’s a massive, authorized outbound migration!" The technician’s hands began to shake against the desk. "The account just stabilized. Forty billion marks... forty billion has been completely drained from the local accounts in under ten minutes!"
The senior analyst felt a cold dread sink deep into his stomach. Moving forty billion marks—an amount that could destabilize a mid-sized domestic banking sector if dumped incorrectly—had just occurred right under their noses without a single automated pre-filing trigger.
With a pale face and trembling fingers, the senior analyst reached for the secure, encrypted landline at the edge of his desk. He punched in a restricted speed-dial code that bypassed every administrative secretary in the capital.
The line rang exactly once before a deep, gravelly voice cut through the static on the other end. "Speak." freewёbn૦νeɭ.com
"Mr. Roys, we have a catastrophic anomaly on the Golden Investments tracking matrix," the senior analyst said, his voice dropping to a panicked whisper. "Precisely seven minutes ago, Jake Rivers initiated a massive capital flight. Forty billion marks have just been moved out of his primary Sterling International reserves."
A heavy, suffocating silence stretched across the line from Mr. Roys’ end. When he finally spoke, his tone was dangerously quiet, carrying the weight of a man who was used to controlling the financial currents of the country.
"Forty billion... in a single transaction? Where is the capital route? Initiate a standard domestic administrative hold immediately. Freeze the clearing sequence until our legal team can draft a compliance mandate."
"We... we can’t freeze it, Mr. Roys," the analyst stammered, a drop of sweat catching the light as it rolled down his temple.
"What do you mean you can’t freeze it?" Roys snapped, his voice cracking like a whip. "Sterling International operates within our regional jurisdiction! Issue the sovereign emergency freeze protocol to their compliance desk right now!"
"Sir, you don’t understand," the analyst explained, pointing a trembling finger at the cascading plaintext confirmations on his monitor. "They didn’t use the European clearing lines or the local interbank networks. Rivers bypassed the standard infrastructure entirely. He utilized a private, sovereign-level point-to-point conduit directly into the Vanguard East Coast account."
"Vanguard?" Roys inhaled sharply.
"Yes, sir. The transaction was cleared under an international private placement clause using proprietary clearing codes," the analyst said, his voice entirely hollow. "The money is already out of the country, sitting securely in an offshore New York vault under international custody. Our domestic regulatory mandates mean absolutely nothing over there. It’s completely out of our reach."
On the other end of the line, the absolute silence returned, heavier and more ominous than before. Mr. Roys didn’t issue another command. The realization hit him: while they had been scrambling to monitor Jake Rivers’ next move on the local exchange, the young billionaire had casually stripped away forty percent of his liquid weight, placing it behind an impenetrable international shield before they had even finished their morning coffee.
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The soft click of Martha’s porcelain teacup meeting its saucer was the only grounded sound in the Rivers household kitchen. Outside, the steady rhythm of the midnight rain continued to beat against the windowpanes, but inside, the digital atmosphere was hot enough to melt silicon.
"You should definitely let it be, sweetie," Martha said gently, her calm demeanor standing as an impenetrable fortress against the online hurricane. "I think sixty million marks is quite enough for the public to digest before bedtime."
Aliya didn’t answer. Her eyes were glazed over, entirely fixed on the blue light of her screen. The follow counter on her @Aliya_Rivers profile had completely broken past its standard rendering layout; the final three digits were spinning so rapidly they looked like a vertical blur. Every time she forced a manual pull-to-refresh, the total jumped by twenty to thirty thousand.
The entire nation of Veyra was experiencing a massive, unhinged psychological reaction to the vlog. It wasn’t just the retail traders anymore. The luxury car district footage had bridged the gap between the rigid, sterile world of financial derivatives and the raw, visceral curiosity of the general public.
A new trending tag had violently displaced the market chatters on LOOP, cementing itself at the absolute peak of the country’s metrics: #SixtyMillionWeekend.
Aliya scrolled through the cascading feed with a numb thumb, her heart hammering against her ribs.
Aurelia_Lifestyle: We’ve done the math. The combined acquisition of the Urus, the G63, the Brabus Rocket, the Aventador SVJ, and the double-valuation buyout of the McLaren P1 equals roughly 66 million marks. Jake Rivers deployed the annual operating budget of a mid-tier mining corporation on a casual Saturday morning because his sister couldn’t choose a color. Let that sink in.
Veyra_Premium_Resale: To the general manager who took that call to the Chairman—brother, we see you shaking. If the Gold King stands in your lobby and demands a asset, you don’t check the inventory sheet. You just give him the banking routing numbers.
ShortSqueeze_Veyra: Do you guys understand the macroeconomic implications of this? He authorized a direct wire transfer on the spot. If he has this much immediate, hyper-liquid capital just sitting in his personal accounts, what kind of economic tsunami is he dropping on the gold futures market tomorrow morning?
Two miles away, in the hyper-secure data tier of the Veyra One broadcasting compound, the production team hadn’t left their desks. The overnight ratings for the late-night segment had already secured a historic record, but the sudden digital escalation from Aliya’s vlog was forcing a completely different crisis.
"The LOOP syndication feed is throttling our internal servers!" a technician shouted, throwing his hands up in frustration. "We are trying to pull down the metadata from the Rivers family network, but the traffic on her handle is bottlenecking the capital district’s primary routing hub. The broadcast archive for tonight’s interview is getting pulled into the algorithm by association!"
The station manager stood behind him, staring at a wall of analytical graphs that looked like a jagged mountain range. "What are the secondary nodes doing?"
"They’re mirroring her vlog, sir," the producer replied, rapidly clicking through regional video-sharing platforms. "Local news outlets are already running frame-by-frame analyses of the McLaren P1 transaction. Look at this—Aurelia Buzz has a behavioral psychologist on a live stream right now analyzing Jake Rivers’ micro-expressions when he said ’Call him.’ They’re trying to calculate his exact net worth based on his vocal frequency."
"He didn’t just tease a trade," the station manager muttered, a look of profound corporate awe crossing his face as he adjusted his tie. "He just completely redefined what wealth means to the population of this country. Keep the live metrics pinned to the screen. If he drops that post, I want our morning anchor team in their chairs thirty minutes before."
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Back at Apex Plaza, Jake sat on the edge of the minimalist leather sofa. He was scrolling through his phone. The display didn’t show the public forums, the viral videos, or his sister’s explosive follower metrics. It showed a cold, stark interface—the institutional liquidity pools of the five major conglomerates backing Aurelia Capitals.
The door opened softly, and Chloe walked in, her heels clicking quietly against the polished concrete floor. She had swapped her sharp executive blazer for a relaxed silk blouse, but her expression remained completely locked in.
"Your sister just turned the entire capital into an absolute madhouse, Mr. Rivers," Chloe said, setting down a fresh glass of water next to his terminal. "The luxury district vlog has reached over eight million views in forty minutes. The media is currently treating you like a financial deity, and the retail forums are actively liquidating everything from domestic bonds to tech stocks just to be ready for your character stroke."
Jake didn’t look up from the data columns. "Al always did have an eye for high-impact content."
"She saved us a lot of marketing capital, that’s for sure," Alice added, stepping into the room behind Chloe, her tablet glowing as she analyzed the institutional response. "But the pressure on the morning open is mounting dangerously. Tim Bronks over at the Meridian Group has spent the last two hours trying to clear a private data pipeline to our compliance desk. Darius Rivers is clearly panicking. They want to know if your ’gift’ is an unnotified derivative attack on their raw steel inventory."
Jake finally raised his eyes, the cold, amber tint of the interface reflecting across his irises. The expression on his face wasn’t one of arrogance or triumphant malice; it was the calm, calculating stillness of a grandmaster who had already seen the final five moves of the match.
"Let them guess," Jake said softly, checking the mechanical watch on his wrist. It was exactly 21:45. "The psychological weight is exactly where it needs to be."
He reached forward, his finger hovering over the terminal interface, where an encrypted data package stood locked behind a multi-layered biometric sequence.
"They think I’m playing a game of corporate leverage with my uncle," Jake murmured, his voice dropping into a low, resolute frequency that made the room feel incredibly small. "They think tI want to rise the price of the Meridian Group. "
Chloe and Alice both held their breath, their eyes locked onto his hand. For the first time since the broadcast ended, the absolute gravity of what was about to happen tomorrow morning settled deep into their bones. They still didn’t know the contents of the package, but looking at the unyielding focus in Jake’s eyes, they knew one thing for certain.
Veyra’s financial structure would never be the same after tomorrow morning.
"Get some rest, both of you," Jake commanded quietly, closing the screen. "Tomorrow, you’ll see what this was all about."
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