I Inherited Trillions, Now What?

Chapter 65 Nvidia conclusion II

In the city dubbed "The Capital of the World," where dreams soar as high as the iconic skyline, New York stands as a beacon of ambition, resilience, and relentless energy. It is home to more billionaires than any other city on the planet—a bustling metropolis where the extraordinary becomes ordinary. From the headquarters of global financial titans like JPMorgan Chase, Goldman Sachs, and Citigroup to the commanding presence of the United Nations and world-renowned tech startups, New York is a pulsating hub of power and influence.

But in the heart of this electric city lies its most infamous epicenter: Wall Street. Known as the place where fortunes are made and dreams crumble with ruthless efficiency, Wall Street embodies the duality of ambition and risk. The nerve center of the global economy, this stretch of pavement drives New York's claim as the financial capital of the world, with daily trades surpassing a staggering $19 billion.

, Ethan, a young trader trying to make his mark, sat in his office. He was on the phone with his girlfriend.

"Hey, babe, I've told you—I'm working. Why do you always interrupt me when I'm busy?" he said, his voice sharp.

Her voice came through the line, soft but firm. "When are you ever not working? I just wanted to let you know that I'm going back to my parents' house."

Ethan's gaze briefly left the screen of his laptop, where the stock prices of a particular company fluctuated. "Oh, okay. Your parents' house? Are you just paying them a visit or something?"

"No," she replied, her tone heavy.

"Shit. Don't tell me I forgot their birthday or something. Just get them something nice, please," Ethan muttered, his mind still distracted by the market.

"No, Ethan, I'm moving back there," she said quietly, her words cutting through the noise of his thoughts.

He blinked, confused. He reached for the phone, lifting it to his ear again. "What do you mean you're moving back? Why?"

"Ethan, when I chose to follow you from Colorado, we had plans. We were going to travel the world, have adventures together. But now, look at us... I barely see you for more than three hours a day. All we do is argue. I'm sorry, but I can't keep doing this. I need to go back home." Her voice broke as she finished, the tears evident even through the phone line.

Ethan listened to Sydney's words, his frustration building as he tried to find the right response. He clenched his jaw, holding the phone tightly.

"Sydney, you know I have to work. I need to work. We have all these plans for the future, but they need money. We need money," he said, his voice tight with urgency.

Sydney's voice cracked, growing louder. "I don't need money, Ethan. I just need you. I just need you! We were fine before all this money—before all this work. We'd be fine without it!"

Ethan's grip on the phone tightened, and he couldn't hold back his anger any longer. "When I paid for your dad's cancer treatments, you didn't say anything. When I paid for your stupid brother's college tuition, you didn't say anything! But now, now you're telling me you don't need the money? You ungrateful bitch! I poured thousands into you, taking you out of that backwater town, changing your life, giving you the best things in life... And now you say you don't want the money?"

Sydney's voice came through, choking with emotion. "Ethan, are you serious right now? You know i don't care about the money" she cried, the hurt in her voice unmistakable.

Ethan saying "yes yes you don't care about the money you always say that, but we all know everyone cares about the money" he said mockingly

Ethan took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. His voice softened, though the frustration still lingered. "Baby, I'm sorry. I was just angry about what you said. Please, just hold on. I did something at work. When it works out, we'll have all the money we need. We'll go to Europe—Spain, like you've always wanted."

Sydney's response was quieter but still heavy with emotion. "Ethan, we already have enough to go to Spain. The reason I never went is because it wouldn't be any fun without you."

Ethan opened his mouth to respond, but before he could get another word out, the door to his office suddenly opened. He turned to see who had barged in, his face tightening with irritation. But then his eyes landed on Christopher—his mentor and boss, the man who had brought him into the firm.

Christopher's voice cut through the tension in the room. "Ethan, we need to talk. Now."

Ethan let out a heavy sigh and said into the phone, "Hey, babe, let's talk later. I need to get back to work."

Ethan, still shaking, managed to get the words out between his stammers. "I... I got it from your account," he said, his voice cracking. "I wanted to use it... and surprise you. Because of what you said, I went ahead and checked, and I found out the Blackwells truly haven't ever lost. I... I felt they would win, and that the share prices would drop. I didn't know... I didn't know this would happen."

Christopher stood frozen for a moment, his eyes narrowing. Then it hit him. "What? My account? You mean my client account?"

Ethan nodded nervously, his face pale, his eyes darting away.

"Shit. Shit. Shit," Christopher muttered under his breath, running his hands through his hair in frustration. "How did you get my account details, Ethan? How the hell did you get them?"

Ethan stammered again, his voice shaky. "Last month... there was a time we went out. You were drunk, and you needed to make a transfer urgently. You showed me a place where you kept your password... I... I just used it."

Christopher stared at him in disbelief, his face a mask of fury. "You fool! You've ruined me! Fuck!" he yelled. Then, as if trying to regain some composure, he added, "And would you stop with the stammering?!"

The door swung open, and a woman stepped into the room. She immediately noticed Christopher, his eyes burning with fury as he held the laptop. When she saw Ethan's face, pale and lifeless, as if he had just undergone surgery, her expression changed to one of concern.

"Mr. Christopher, what's wrong? is Mr Taylor aright should i bring water or anything?" she asked, her voice laced with confusion.

Without even looking at her, Christopher snapped, "Rebecca, call the firm partners now. We need to hold an emergency meeting." He paused, then added in a colder tone, "Also, tell the security team to not let anyone leave."

Rebecca, sensing the urgency in his voice, nodded quickly. "Yes, sir." She turned and left the office.

Ethan, still shaking, looked at Christopher with wide eyes. The weight of the situation began to sink in, and he nervously swallowed. "Christopher" he said but seeing the eyes he got in return he swallowed his spit that keeps clogging his throat "Mr. Reed," he said, his voice trembling, "Please... I don't want to lose my job. Please, I'll do anything. I'll make up for the loss, I promise." His words came out in a desperate rush.

Christopher turned, his eyes narrowing into sharp slits. "Your job?" he repeated, his voice a low growl. He took a step closer, silencing Ethan with his anger.

Ethan swallowed hard, staring into Christopher's furious brown eyes. Before he could say another word, Christopher cut him off. "Your job? You'd be lucky if you don't go to jail. You're here talking about your job," he said, his voice ice-cold.

With that, Christopher turned and walked out of the office. Ethan stood there, frozen, his thoughts swirling with the word "jail" repeating over and over in his mind. The weight of it crushed him. His legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the ground, the reality of what he'd just done hitting him all at once.

In the cold, unforgiving world of Wall Street, a youngster had flown too close to the sun—and, as fate would have it, he burnt out. In that office, in that fleeting moment, someone's dreams and hopes had just died. But in Wall Street, such moments were far from rare. Here, dreams were born only to be shattered with the same indifference as a gust of wind brushing against a paper.

Ethan was no different from the countless others who had come before him, drawn to this place of opportunity with ambition in their eyes and fire in their hearts. And just as many had done, he had been consumed by the very system he sought to master. His failure was not unique. It was a drop in the ocean of daily losses, a single casualty in the ceaseless churn of market fluctuations.

In Wall Street, lives were measured not by the dreams they held, but by the wealth they could acquire. Dreams were transient—easily discarded once they failed to yield profit. Ethan's downfall was nothing more than an ordinary event, another casualty in a place where success and failure danced on the edge of a razor blade, and the world moved on without hesitation.

This was Wall Street—where even the brightest lights could burn out, and the cycle would repeat.

At least, in the midst of his downfall, Ethan had one thing to cling to—a loving woman waiting for him. Perhaps he could find the answer to the question that had haunted him for so long: Did she really care about him, or had it always been about the money?

But that was, of course, only if he wasn't jailed.

P.S special shoutout to VisineAnt who i am still so grateful to for sending those gifts

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