《CEO Reborn [Business LitRPG]》 Ch-1: Son? "Do you comprehend the extent to which the holding company''s share price has plummeted due to the shortcomings of your subsidiary?" A booming voice echoed through the office cabin. The elegant wooden desk, adorned with a nameplate that read "Jeffrey Lewis, Chairman," served as the stage for this confrontation. Seated in a plush chair, a man with a head full of grayish-black hair and a goatee, not older than sixty-five, directed his anger towards another man of similar age, his hair much grayer and his face clean-shaven. The individual on the receiving end stood opposite the chairman. ¡°Do you have any fucking idea, Matthew!?¡± the chairman persisted in expressing his anger. "25%, sir," Matthew replied weakly. As he responded, his already slender frame seemed to contract slightly. "Exactly! 25%. That''s a bloody $100 million on paper. All that wealth vanished into thin air in just one day." "I apologize, sir," Matthew uttered. "You know what? You''re fired. I entrusted you with the CEO position of my third-largest subsidiary, and within five years, it''s all in ruins." Matthew''s eyes widened in disbelief. I dedicated thirty-five years of my life, more than three-quarters of my earnings, and all the hard work and commitment to this company, only to be let go at this crucial juncture. In the last five years, my once-black hair, with a few streaks of grey, has transformed into a head full of grey hair with a few streaks of black. The stress accumulated in my role as the CEO of ''Lewis Construction'' has wreaked havoc on my life. My twelve-year marriage fell apart; my wife left me for a younger retiree. Not that I was ever the romantic type. Getting married at the ripe age of forty-seven was evidence enough of that. I don''t have anyone to call my own. Father? I never had one. Mother? She succumbed to a treatable disease when I was twelve. My aunt passed away forty years ago, and my grandfather never lived to see his only grandson succeed in life. Well, maybe that''s for the best. I''ve failed miserably in life anyway. Matthew felt his eyes moistening. After regaining a semblance of composure, he resolved to address the root cause of the problem. "But I merely executed the directives given by the board. You were present in those meetings, weren''t you? My perspectives were dismissed as if I were an amateur in this industry. If anyone should face consequences, it should be those board members, shouldn''t they? And perhaps, even you should contemplate resigning from your position." The veins on Jeffrey''s temple became as evident as the night sky. Despite this, Matthew persisted in expressing his grievances, well aware that this was his sole opportunity to speak his mind. He pressed on, "Well, it''s about time for you to retire, Jeff. Your sons are grappling with their mid-life crises, and your grandsons anxiously await their share of your wealth once you pass, only to be disappointed every year you continue breathing. That''s a miserable life, Jeff. A miserable li-." "Matthew Alveston!" the loud voice cut through Matthew''s words. "Leave this office! Leave this building! If you dare appear in front of me again, I''ll personally gouge out those shit brown eyes of yours!" Matthew simply turned away from the chairman, opened the cabin door, and exited. It didn''t take him much time to collect his belongings and leave the premises. While heading to his car, he glanced up at the imposing structure. Lewis Tower, a seventy-storey skyscraper spanning 1.75 million square feet, was erected in 1963 by Jonathon Lewis, the grandson of the founder, Dale Lewis. In this family-owned enterprise, I diligently climbed the ranks, operating under the belief that merit would determine one''s ascent. However, in the end, my perspectives were deemed less valuable than those of a thirty-year-old man-child, simply because he bore the surname ''Lewis.'' Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. Walking toward his car, a model from the now closed Lewis Automobiles fleet parked in the lot, all he could ponder was: Where did everything take a wrong turn? Was it the moment I couldn''t secure admission into those prestigious colleges? Was it the decision to commence my career in Weirton for my first job? Or was it the choice to sell my childhood home and my grandfather''s shop to purchase a 2-BHK apartment in NYC? He unlocked the driver''s seat door, settled in comfortably, and deposited the cardboard box containing his belongings in the backseat. Turning the key, he initiated the engine of his sixteen-year-old car, which, given its age, required a moment to come to life. The drive home spanned twenty minutes. Before long, he found himself seated on his couch, a sixty-two-year-old man with no job and no savings. His wealth existed primarily in the form of shares in Lewis Construction obtained through stock options. Approximately 75% of his earnings over the years were also invested in the company. Over his lifetime, he had amassed a 10% ownership stake in Lewis Construction, the third-largest subsidiary within the Lewis Corps. This shareholding should have been valued at $10.3 million five years ago. However, owing to poor decisions by the board and persistent interference from investment firms, the company experienced a staggering decline in revenue over the past five years. Consequently, his $10.3 million has dwindled to a mere $300 thousand, that too a figure he cannot be certain of. Once a pioneering force in the Construction Sector, Lewis Construction succumbed to a lack of innovation and generational politics. The common refrain is, ''Lewis Group is stuck in the year 2000, but it''s been there since the 1980s.'' Leadership incompetence played a significant role in the doom. At its zenith in 1985, Lewis Corps, valued at $23 billion ($65 billion when adjusted for inflation), has now dwindled to a mere $400 million. This stark deterioration occurred in just forty years. I became a part of this corporation near its peak, only to be ousted when it had all crumbled. The fortunes of Lewis Corps have been on a steady decline since the passing of Jonathon Lewis in 1986. Despite being an immensely successful individual, his sons proved to be prodigal, and his grandsons were too absorbed to consider the company''s future. While Jonathon achieved great success in his professional life, he failed as a family man. His inability to nurture the next generation ultimately led to the demise of the legacy he painstakingly built over a lifetime of seventy years. Talking about me, I hail from Weirton, West Virginia, a small town originally established by Weirton Steels for mining purposes. Despite its humble beginnings, the town gradually evolved into a significant settlement over the years. Growing up, I never knew my father and my upbringing was shaped by my mother, maternal grandfather, and maternal aunt. Tragedy struck when I was twelve ¨C my mother fell victim to influenza. Though the illness was treatable, the lack of financial means proved fatal for her. This incident left my grandfather deeply shaken, and he never fully recovered. Just a couple of years later, he too succumbed to a stroke, naming me as the beneficiary to all his wealth alongside my only surviving relative, my aunt. Unfortunately, my aunt, who remained unmarried and childless, passed away in 1983 due to terminal blood cancer. By the time I completed college, I found myself with no family to call my own. For the initial five years after college, I worked for Weirton Steels. In 1989, I sold all my property including my grandpa¡¯s store in Weirton for $95,000 and invested in an apartment in NYC as I joined Lewis Corps. Climbing the corporate ladder took time, and it wasn''t until 2010, at the age of 48, that I secured an executive position. In 2019, I reached a significant milestone ¨C being appointed as the CEO of Lewis Construction. Unfortunately, this achievement was short-lived as I find myself dismissed from the position just half a decade later, today. On a personal note, I entered a marriage in 2009 with an accountant from the company. She left her job post-marriage, relying solely on my income. However, during the COVID-19 pandemic, she decided she couldn''t sustain a lifestyle with half of my original income. In 2021, she left me for a forty-five-year-old retired tech millionaire, taking around $1 million, which was originally intended as our emergency fund. Deciding to sell his shares on the stock exchange the next day, Matthew grappled with the complexities of Internet stock investing, finding it too intricate and risky for his liking. As darkness enveloped the outside world, he opted for the convenience of ordering a pizza from the nearby pizzeria through a phone call. By 9 PM, a time he hadn''t experienced rest for years due to the demands of work, he found himself in bed. Even weekends, which were typically just extensions of the workweek, could no longer dictate his schedule. As his eyes gently closed, Matthew drifted into a deep sleep, harboring a singular wish ¨C to experience the luck enjoyed by those dynastic business moguls who seemingly had everything handed to them on a silver platter. -x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x- [Matthew¡¯s PoV] As I opened my eyes, I found myself gazing at a distinct ceiling that I¡¯d never seen before. Its smooth white surface created a clean and timeless backdrop. After a moment of observation, I noticed subtle recessed lighting along the edges, casting a soft and ambient glow that elevated the overall atmosphere. Yet, the question lingered: where exactly am I? A hospital? Did I collapse or what? Opting to rise from the bed, my attempt proved futile; I couldn''t get up at all. My gaze then shifted sideways, revealing my surroundings. It struck me¡ªI was in a jail! Wooden beams enclosed me! Hold on, wooden beams? The sound of approaching footsteps startled me. Someone was on their way. In a matter of seconds, a creaking sound reached my ears¡ªI was certain it was a door being opened by somebody. Soon enough, two figures came into view. Hold on, why were they growing larger? As they approached within a meter of me, I came to a chilling realization¡ªI must be in hell, subjected to the whims of these giants. They were at least four times my size. To them, I would be no more than a mere ball. "What''s his name?" inquired the elder of the giants, his hair a shade of greyish-black. An elderly giant! "Daniel, father," responded the younger giant. Ah, so the young giant was the old giant''s son. It made sense. At this point, I had resigned myself to my fate. It appeared I had been selected for some form of torment instead of a person named Daniel. Why did luck have to be so cruel to me? There seemed to be no escape from their grasp. "Raise your son well, Adam." Huh? Son? Ch-2: Status [Matthew¡¯s PoV] In this god-forsaken place that I once thought to be a prison and a living nightmare, I''ve spent at least a day since my arrival. To my surprise, I find myself reborn in the innocent body of an infant. So, is this the aftermath of death? It seems the Buddhists and Hindus might have been onto something with their beliefs in the cycle of reincarnation. But isn''t it peculiar for memories of a past life to linger even in the next birth? I managed to gauge the passing of time by keeping an eye on the wall clock in my room. Given the limitations of this infant body, I struggle to stay awake for extended periods, so I make a conscious effort to recall the time before drifting off to sleep each time. Another revelation I pieced together is that my name is Daniel, and my father goes by the name Adam. The sole female presence that graced my day three times was a woman dressed as a maid. She took care of me with formula feeding and lulled me into slumber with her soothing lullabies. Looks like I''ll be missing out on a mother''s love in this lifetime. Since yesterday, my father, Adam, continued to make his presence known, each visit marked by an intense scrutiny of my infant self. His raven-black hair framed a face that bore the weight of age, placing him somewhere between thirty and forty. Yet, it was the deep blue hue of his eyes that caught my attention, and within their depths, I detected a profound sadness. The contrast between the color and the emotion within them stirred a memory, echoing the lyrics of a song from the early 2010s: "No light, No light, in your bright blue eyes." And the gentleman accompanying my father during our initial meeting is most likely my grandfather, although I don''t recall catching his name. Fortunately, it seems I''ve found myself a family in this new life. Judging by the opulent surroundings, I can speculate that they hold a position of high status-
STATUS WINDOW
Name Daniel Lewis
Age 2 Days
Level 1 [00/100]
Wealth $0
??? ???
What!! I looked intently at the screen in front of my eyes with my mouth wide open. The initial shock subsided rather quickly, considering the limited expressions an infant can convey. No jumping, no standing on my feet to sprint like a madman; all I could manage were a few tears which were something I shed pretty easily a newborn. Instead, I resigned myself to reading the dull, grayish window that appeared before my eyes. Its monotony didn''t escape my notice. Daniel Lewi... Lewis! The realization hit like a sudden spark. What the fuck! I got reborn as a Lewis of all. And the probability of being born into an extended family is much more anyway. There are around 150 Lewises as of now and the chances of being born into the main family are no more than 3%-4%. I¡¯m in for a risky gamble! And anyway, being born a Lewis comes with its fair share of troubles. Multiple lawsuits spanning decades, millions drained in legal fees¡ªtalk about a chaotic family legacy. Now, the question is, what on earth do I do with this tangled situation? Well, I suppose it''s better to be born with a silver spoon than a plastic one. Daniel Lewis. It might take some time to fully process, but hey, not much I can do about it now, right? Age. Two days old, huh? So, the little one was already a day into the world before I took the wheel, or in this case, the tiny body. Life really knows how to throw curveballs. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Level zero, huh? It''s like being at the starting point of an RPG game, but this window is my status screen. Well, I guess nothing should surprise me at this point in my unexpected RPG journey. Wealth, or the lack thereof, is intriguing. It''s understandable that a newborn wouldn''t have any riches, but it''s surprising given the ''Lewis'' name and the absence of a trust fund designating him as a beneficiary. Well, patience might be the key here. It could take a while before anything like that comes into play. The remaining attribute is shrouded in mystery, marked as ''???''. Drawing from my experiences in the golden age of RPG gaming, it''s baffling to consider the significance of an attribute that remains hidden in the shadows of the status window. The intrigue deepens, adding an extra layer of suspense to this unfolding adventure. Again. Nothing I can tweak. Focusing on my status screen, I decided to delve into one attribute first. Name, the starting point of my unraveling journey.
Name Daniel Whitney Lewis (Lv. 1)
Father¡¯s Name Adam Astor Lewis (Lv. 32)
Mother¡¯s Name Jessica Payne Whitney (Deceased)
Family Members (at least 1% similar DNA) 49
Oh, look at that, it reveals the full name¡ªDaniel Whitney Lewis. The old rich families do have a tradition of using the maternal family name as the middle name. Connecting the dots, it seems my mother is a Whitney. As my gaze drifted down to the mother''s name row, I was met with "Jessica Payne Whitney (Deceased)." Surprisingly, I took the news in stride. Perhaps it''s because I didn''t have a personal connection with her, but I can''t help but feel sympathy for any child who has to navigate life without a mother. My focus shifted to my mother''s surname, Whitney. The Whitneys, a name synonymous with distinction in American society, earned their place through generations of entrepreneurship, amassed wealth, and a commitment to philanthropy. Their legacy reached its zenith in the 20th century, with family members wielding substantial influence over the U.S. economy through corporate giants like Pan Am and J.H. Whitney & Company. However, the narrative takes a turn in the present¡ªPan Am faced bankruptcy in 1991, and the once-pioneering J.H. Whitney & Company, recognized as the father of private equity investment firms, is no longer under the ownership of the Whitney family. The revelation that intrigued me the most was the count of family members¡ª49. Considering the extensive family tree of the Lewises, I expected them to have at least a hundred members in the third cousins range. It''s perplexing. Could this be a dystopian future where the Lewises are dwindling? Unlikely, given the mismatch in technology and the seemingly inefficient and primitive housing. I''ll refrain from making any hasty decisions until I''ve explored every aspect of this peculiar situation. Glancing at the main window once more, I opted to set aside the ''Level'' and ''Wealth'' attributes, considering there wasn''t much to delve into at the moment. I redirected my attention promptly towards the ''Age'' attribute.
Age 2 days
Date of Birth March 12, 1965
My eyes widened, and time seemed to freeze for an instant. The room fell into a hushed silence. The shock gripped me, rendering me momentarily motionless. It felt like the ground beneath me had shifted, leaving me suspended in a state of disbelief. A silent gasp lingered in the air, and the stillness spoke volumes. In that moment, everything failed to capture the sheer astonishment that coursed through me. 1965? Instead of moving forward in time, it seems I took a detour to the past! Hold on, could the man I consider my grandfather be ''the'' Jonathan Lewis? Well, no, Jonathan had two brothers and two cousins, so my grandfather could be any one of them. Another thought teased the edges of my mind. It appears that the infamous future chairman of Lewis Corps, Jeffrey Lewis is my cousin. This is interesting, very interesting! It means the family is currently on an upward trajectory, not the decline it will face in the distant future. Considering I''ve been born into this family, why not entertain the idea of taking it over? I couldn''t see it, but I''m sure a smirk crossed my baby face. My first task is to figure out who my grandfather is. It would have been ideal if he turned out to be Jonathan, but I don''t recall Jonathan having a son named ''Adam''. It''s more likely that Adam, my father, is one of Jonathan''s nephews. Now that I think about it, I can''t recall any instances of the Lewises having marital ties with the Whitneys. Such a union would have been a significant event in the corporate world, but there doesn''t appear to be any specific record of such a thing. Looks like I''ll have to be patient and wait for more robust information about my lineage. It will essentially determine whether I''ll have a smooth journey or face some hurdles. Though, let''s be real, there''s probably no such thing as an easy way. With twenty-one years before Jonathan''s demise, I have ample time to strategize and figure out how to take over the conglomerate after him. While contemplating the path ahead, a sudden thought jolted me back to reality. Who in the seven hells has taken over my body, if I¡¯ve landed in this infant form? Ch-3: Trust Fund [Daniel¡¯s Pov] 3 Months Later¡­ Adam, my father, has gotten into the habit of dropping by twice a day like clockwork. Even though his visits are short, lasting no more than five minutes each time, he never misses them. He swings by around 9 in the morning and then again around 8 in the evening. Being a Lewis with a child must keep him pretty busy, I reckon. Despite my limitations in directly asking or seeking answers to various questions, I managed to uncover a crucial piece of information through keen observation and discreetly listening in on conversations. It turns out that I am, indeed, the grandson of none other than Jonathan Lewis, the current Chairman & CEO of Lewis Corps. While it''s true that I have a familial connection to Jonathan Lewis, which could potentially be misconstrued as a strong claim to the chairman''s position, I''ve also discovered a complicating factor. My father, Adam, is what some might refer to as a natural-born, bastard or illegitimate child. While he does have a rightful claim to a portion of Jonathan''s empire, it may not be substantial enough to secure my ascent to the position of chairman and ruler of this corporate domain. However, I''m not disheartened by this revelation, as I believe there are numerous avenues available to me to seize control of this corporation and make my mark. What troubles me is the absence of any record regarding an individual named ''Adam'' within the Lewis family in the future. Given my thorough research and deep dive into the history of the Lewis lineage in my past life, especially upon my promotion to the executive rank, this omission raises significant doubts. It leads me to two possible conclusions: either Adam was deemed too inconsequential to be recorded, or he chose to distance himself from the family to pursue his own path. The latter scenario seems more plausible, especially considering his demeanor upon returning from work, which I distinctly recall as lacking in contentment. Furthermore, I''ve yet to ascertain the nature of his occupation, adding another layer of mystery to his enigmatic persona. A burning question gnaws at me: if I''m here, inhabiting this infant''s body, then who is carrying out my life in this world? It''s a perplexing quandary that leaves me feeling utterly helpless. I''m unable to investigate or gather any clues through my usual methods that this body may sustain, such as eavesdropping or observation. This limitation underscores the depth of my predicament, highlighting the extent of my vulnerability in this mysterious situation. *Sigh¡­* Anyway, as I reflect on the past three months, I realize that I''ve made significant progress in this new journey. From starting as a Level 1 infant, I''ve now advanced to Level 2 and stand on the cusp of breaking through to Level 3. It''s a testament to my adaptability and resilience in navigating this unfamiliar existence. Though, I must give credit to the kind of tasks that I received. They ranged anywhere from eating to sleeping on time. This ended up with me gaining a ton of XP points. With this realization, my thoughts naturally turn to my current status. ¡®Status¡¯
STATUS WINDOW
Name Daniel Lewis
Age 3 Months 3 Days
Level 2 [178/200]
Wealth $354,711
??? ???
W-W-What! How in the world did I amass over three hundred thousand dollars? The answer eludes me, shrouded in mystery, and prompts a flurry of speculation and uncertainty. The sudden discovery of a substantial sum in my wealth leaves me bewildered and questioning how it came to be. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. As the unexpected revelation sinks in, my little body tenses with surprise. A soft gasp escapes my lips, followed by a string of incomprehensible babbling as I struggle to express my astonishment. My tiny hands fluttered, instinctively reaching out as if trying to grasp the elusive truth of what I had just learned. The transparent screen hovered tantalizingly out of reach, teasing me with its secrets just beyond my grasp. As an idea sparked in my mind, I directed my attention to the ''wealth'' attribute. With a deliberate focus, another screen materialized, overlapping the original status window. I instinctively closed the status window and zeroed in on the new screen, eager to uncover the source of my newfound wealth.
Wealth $354,711
Source(s) Trust Fund
My wide eyes blinked rapidly, struggling to process the flood of new information inundating my mind. A trust fund? Who could have set it up for me, and for what purpose? Though I harbored no lofty expectations, I concentrated intently on the ''source'' attribute. To my surprise, it worked! Instantly, another table materialized before my eyes, revealing the origins of my mysterious trust fund.
Institution D.W. Lewis Trust Fund
Valuation $354,711
Grantor Jessica Payne Whitney (Deceased)
Trustee Cornelius Vanderbilt Whitney (Lv. 58)
Beneficiary Daniel Whitney Lewis (Lv. 2)
Assets Stocks (42%), Bonds (26%), Real Estate (25%), Heirlooms (7%)
As the pieces of the puzzle begin to fall into place, a wave of realization washes over me. It dawns on me that my deceased mother had set up a trust fund for me before her passing, and it has only been activated today. While uncertainty shrouds the identity of my Trustee, a thrilling possibility takes shape in my mind. If he is indeed who I suspect him to be, then I may have stumbled upon a jackpot of unprecedented proportions. A shiver runs down my spine as I catch a glimpse of his staggering level, sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through me. As I contemplate the future, I realize the staggering potential of my trust fund. Adjusted for inflation, its value nearly 60 years from now will exceed $3.5 million. While this sum could undoubtedly provide a comfortable retirement, my ambitions extend far beyond merely living off the wealth I''ve been bestowed. I aspire to achieve heights that even the great Jonathan Lewis has yet to reach. The prospect of leveraging this financial foundation to propel myself towards unprecedented success fills me with a sense of determination and purpose. I refuse to settle for mediocrity when the world has offered a second chance to me. As I ponder the implications of my newfound wealth and potential, it dawns on me that my father, Adam, may be privy to the existence of the trust fund. His tardiness for today''s visit suggests that he might be preoccupied with matters related to it, keeping him occupied and perhaps even causing him to overlook our informal daily meeting. As my gaze drifted to the ''Assets'' section of the window, I absorbed the details of the asset types and their composition. Overall, I would categorize it as either a safe fund or a moderate fund, contingent upon the types of stocks it holds. Based on my calculations, these stocks are likely invested in either Lewis Corps or some Whitney Family Corporation. While I cannot be certain about the Whitneys, I have confidence in the robust future of the Lewis family over the next two decades at least. Their enduring stability and potential for growth offer a reassuring outlook for the performance of my trust fund''s assets. Bonds can add a layer of uncertainty if we''re not sure about their specifics. Corporate bonds, for instance, carry their own set of risks tied to the financial stability of the issuing companies. On the flip side, government-issued bonds are generally seen as a safer bet, especially those with lower interest rates. When it comes to preserving wealth and keeping pace with inflation, government bonds with modest interest rates are like a reliable anchor. They offer a steady way to safeguard the value of the trust fund over time, helping to ensure that its purchasing power doesn''t erode in the face of rising prices. Real estate and heirlooms are relatively stable assets that typically don''t experience significant fluctuations, which means they''re unlikely to have a negative impact on the overall portfolio of the fund. Therefore, even if the fund yields an annual return of 6%-7%, it can effectively preserve the wealth it has accumulated over time. While I''m still in the dark about the specific rules governing this fund, I''m confident they will be passed on to me once I reach the legal age to inherit them. Additionally, I expect there to be a payout system in place that provides me with a steady and reliable source of income. That''s why trust fund babies seem to have it made. They can coast through life on a stable income without having to lift a finger to earn it. Ch-4: Stocks of Past [Daniel¡¯s PoV] 1 Year Later¡­ At just six months old, I astounded everyone by taking my first steps, much earlier than expected. Since then, I''ve honed my walking skills and, with some effort, I''ve even begun to utter words in English. However, I''ve chosen to keep this newfound ability a secret for now, preferring to observe and learn from the world around me without revealing my so-called linguistic prowess to anyone. Deliberately, I also started showing interest in picture books, a subtle move that has led my father and nanny to believe that I possess some sort of prodigious intellect. It''s a strategic decision on my part, as I anticipate that demonstrating advanced knowledge at a young age could prove advantageous in the future. People are likely to dismiss any abnormalities in my behavior in the future as signs of genius, which will ultimately work in my favor. Over the course of the past year, I''ve achieved remarkable progress in my status window, advancing to Level 6 as of now.
STATUS WINDOW
Name Daniel Whitney Lewis
Age 1 Year 3 Months
Level 6 [566/1100]
Wealth $401,911
??? ???
I''ve observed that with each level I attain, the required experience points for the next level increase. This realization suggests that progressing further will become increasingly challenging as I advance beyond the initial stages. However, despite reaching Level 6, I still struggle to comprehend the significance of leveling up. It seems to demand the completion of certain quests, which I dutifully undertake, yet I fail to discern any tangible benefits derived from this feature. The persistent presence of ''???'' on the window continues to pique my curiosity from time to time. Drawing from my experience with RPG games, I''m confident that these mysteries will be unlocked once I reach a predetermined level. It''s merely a matter of time until these enigmatic features reveal their secrets, and I eagerly anticipate the day when I can finally unravel these mysteries. As I analyze the wealth attribute, I observe a remarkable increase of 13.31% over the past year, while the S&P 500 yielded a return of 9.06%. This indicates that my Trust Fund assets have outperformed the market by more than 4%. Recalling from memory, the next significant downturn is anticipated in the years 1973 and 1974, primarily attributed to an oil embargo imposed on nations supporting Israel during the Yom Kippur War. This geopolitical event triggered a substantial rise in oil prices and widespread shortages in various countries, resulting in significant economic disruptions. The chronicles of the Yom Kippur War can wait for another day. Presently, my father has ceased his morning visits, and the strain etched on his face during his evening visits is palpable. Sometime around my first birthday, I was finally granted the freedom to embark beyond the confines of my designated space, often referred to as my "room". Venturing out of my room with my nanny has opened up a whole new world of discovery for me. Firstly, I learned that the estate where I reside boasts around fifteen similar rooms to mine. Located in downtown New York, my father is the proud owner of two of these rooms. The realization dawned on me when I noticed the name emblazoned atop the building: ''Lewis Townhouse''. It was a subtle yet profound revelation that shed light on the true nature of our residence. Initially, I had assumed that my father either purchased these rooms with his hard-earned money or leased them for our accommodation. However, the sight of the estate''s nameplate, coupled with the surname ''Lewis'' adorning the neighboring rooms, dispelled any lingering doubts. The pieces of the puzzle fell into place, painting a clearer picture of our living situation. It became apparent that the Lewis Townhouse was not just any residential property; it was a private domain owned by the Lewis Corps, reserved for the extended members of the Lewis family. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Guess my father isn¡¯t qualified enough to be given a detached home in the estate. Seated casually on the couch, I feigned interest in the colorful illustrations of the picture book spread out before me. However, my true attention was fixated on the open page of The Wall Street Journal resting nearby. The headline boldly proclaimed concerns about overvaluation looming over the stock market, a consequence of its robust performance during the mid-1960s. I have studied this topic once or twice in my last life. In the mid-1960s, the U.S. economy experienced a period of robust economic growth and stock market performance. This period, often referred to as the "Go-Go Years," was characterized by strong corporate earnings, expanding industrial production, and rising consumer confidence. As a result, stock prices soared, and investors were attracted to the potential for high returns in the stock market. However, as stock prices continued to climb, concerns began to emerge about the possibility of overvaluation. Overvaluation occurs when stock prices rise to levels that are not supported by the underlying fundamentals of the companies, such as earnings growth, dividends, and future prospects. In other words, stocks become more expensive relative to their intrinsic value. Additionally, uncertainties surrounding the Vietnam War contributed to investor anxiety and market volatility. As a result, investors became more cautious, and some began to sell off stocks, leading to a correction in the stock market. A stock market correction is defined as a decline of 10% or more from recent highs. In the case of 1966, the correction lasted from February to October and resulted in a significant decline in stock prices. With the current timeline only in August, there remained a window of time before the anticipated correction materialized. However, given my circumstances and inability to directly intervene, I resigned myself to the notion of simply observing the events unfold. While the prospect presented an opportunity, it wasn''t significant enough to warrant active interference. In the grand scheme of things, missing out on this particular moment seemed inconsequential, especially considering the vast expanse of future knowledge at my disposal. *knock knock* As the sound of a knock echoed through the room, my attention sharpened, and my ears perked up in response. Nanny swiftly rose from her position on the couch, hastening to answer the door. A sense of anticipation filled the air as I watched the scene unfold before me. My father''s arrival was heralded by a subtle shift in the atmosphere. Despite his attempt to mask it with a smile, I couldn''t help but notice the tension lurking beneath the surface. Years of experience had honed my ability to discern between genuine expressions and forced pleasantries, allowing me to easily distinguish between his authentic smiles and the ones he wore as a facade. As my father drew closer, his familiar presence enveloped me, filling me with a sense of warmth and security. With gentle hands, he scooped me up into the air, eliciting a spontaneous grin from me. The simple joy of being lifted into the air never failed to bring a genuine smile to my face, and as I beamed up at him, I could see a matching expression of delight spread across his features. In that moment, as we shared a fleeting yet cherished connection, I couldn''t help but feel a surge of affection towards him. Despite his occasional facade, there was no denying his genuine affection and care for me. Beneath his stoic exterior lay a soft-hearted man, a testament to his capacity for love and devotion as a father. Then, my father gently lowered me back onto the couch before excusing himself and disappearing into the attached room once more. After a brief moment in the adjoining room, my father emerged dressed in casual attire, carrying a handful of documents, a pen, and a pencil. With purposeful strides, he made his way towards me, setting his belongings on the table before lifting me gently from the couch. Placing me on his lap, he settled into the spot where I had been seated moments ago, positioning me comfortably against him as he prepared to delve into his work. With focused determination, he began to sift through the papers, his movements methodical and precise as he reviewed each document with careful consideration. Despite the seriousness of his task, he maintained a calm and composed demeanor, his attention divided between the paperwork before him and the little bundle of energy nestled on his lap. Unlike other children my age, I found myself drawn to the documents laid out on the table. While most kids might have been content to play with toys or gaze at picture books, I felt a magnetic pull towards these pieces of paper. There was a sense of intrigue and possibility in the air as if these documents held the keys to unlocking secrets and knowledge that could shape my future. Hmm. So, there are three documents here. The first document caught my attention immediately¡ªit was a physical stock certificate. It had been quite some time since I had seen one of these relics. In the future, with the rise of electronic trading and dematerialization, these tangible certificates will become obsolete. Instead, everything would transition to digital platforms, with shares being held and traded electronically through brokerage accounts. The sight of this physical certificate was a fascinating glimpse into a bygone era of financial transactions. From what I could discern, this certificate is issued in the name of Adam Astor Lewis, my father, and it represents shares in the company ''Lewis Corps.'' It makes sense, considering that his father and my grandfather is the chairman of ''Lewis Corps.'' The certificate lists the share price as $12.13, and it indicates that my father owns 7,500 shares. The total value of the shares is calculated as $91,125. This amount may seem relatively modest, especially considering that he''s a Lewis, and his stock options don''t even amount to a hundred thousand dollars. But then, my attention was drawn to something mind-boggling. The Date of Transaction. It said: April 11, 1954. Ch-5: Three Documents [Daniel¡¯s PoV] As I fixated on the date of the transaction printed on the stock certificate¡ªApril 11, 1954¡ªa surge of curiosity enveloped me. Twelve years had elapsed since that pivotal moment, and I couldn''t help but wonder how the value of those shares had evolved over time. Given the company in question¡ª''Lewis Corps''¡ªand its trajectory over the past decade, it was plausible to assume that the stock price had experienced exponential growth. Recalling from my extensive knowledge of corporate history, I knew that ''Lewis Corps'' had surpassed the billion-dollar valuation mark by the year 1960. It had steadily risen through the ranks, cementing its position as a powerhouse in the corporate world. With such remarkable growth, it stood to reason that the current valuation of the company would far exceed its earlier benchmarks. Estimating conservatively, I speculated that ''Lewis Corps'' was now valued at approximately $1.5 billion, if not more. This astronomical figure underscored the company''s undeniable success and marked its ascent to the upper echelons of corporate giants. As for the stock price itself, I surmised that it would have appreciated significantly from its initial value of $12.13. With the company''s stellar performance and soaring valuation, it was conceivable that the current stock price hovered around the $20 mark, if not higher. Shifting my focus to the following document displayed on the table, I observed that it was a deed¡ªa formal legal document utilized to transfer ownership rights of real estate, encompassing various properties such as commercial establishments like stores, from one individual or entity to another. With a sense of anticipation tingling in the air, I embarked on a meticulous examination of this significant piece of paperwork, recognizing its potential to unveil valuable insights and information. Upon scrutinizing the contents of the deed, my eyes immediately gravitated towards the date of transaction¡ªApril 11, 1954. A sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu washed over me as I realized that this date mirrored the one inscribed on the stock certificate. Initially, I dismissed it as a mere coincidence, but upon closer examination, a pattern emerged that hinted at something more profound. It became increasingly apparent that this wasn''t a coincidence but rather a deliberate ritual, meticulously orchestrated for a specific purpose. The grantor listed on the deed was none other than ''Lewis Corps'' itself, adding another layer of mystery. Pondering over the implications of this revelation, I pieced together a plausible scenario. Assuming Adam, my father''s age falls somewhere between thirty and forty, it stands to reason that twelve years ago, he would have been in his late teens or early twenties. If he indeed acquired these assets all at once during that time period, it suggests that he must have fulfilled certain legal requirements or obligations to become the rightful recipient. Upon further reflection, it dawned on me that one of the most plausible legal requirements that could be completed on the same date is the attainment of a certain age. Recalling from my knowledge, it wasn''t until the 1970s that the government revised most legal rights from 21 to 18 years of age. Therefore, based on this timeline, it stands to reason that Adam, my father, must have reached the age of 21 on April 11, 1954. This revelation sheds light on his current age, which would be 33, aligning perfectly with my earlier speculation. It seems that my deduction wasn''t far off the mark, confirming my intuition regarding Adam''s age and the significance of the dates inscribed on the documents before me. The significance of the property description became even more apparent as I delved into the details. While the mention of an apparel store operating under Lewis Corps initially seemed like a routine matter, the location of the store elevated its importance to a whole new level. Situated in the bustling heart of Times Square, this store commanded attention and carried immense value, thanks to its prime location in one of the most iconic and high-traffic areas in the city. The mere mention of Times Square sent a ripple of excitement through me, as I grasped the implications of its significance. In a city renowned for its sky-high property prices and fierce competition for prime real estate, securing a storefront in Times Square represented a considerable investment and a testament to Lewis Corps'' strategic foresight. The allure of Times Square as a vibrant hub of activity and commerce translated into astronomical land prices, making it a coveted destination for businesses seeking to capitalize on its unparalleled visibility and foot traffic. This singular factor alone substantially inflated the value of the property, rendering it a prized asset within my father¡¯s portfolio. The revelation underscored the astuteness of Lewis Corps'' business decisions and its ability to identify and capitalize on lucrative opportunities in the ever-evolving landscape of New York City''s commercial real estate market. It was a testament to the company''s enduring legacy and its commitment to remaining at the forefront of innovation and success. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. The sheer mention of the size of the apparel store, spanning 3,000 square feet, further highlighted its significance within the realm of commercial real estate. As I pondered the implications of its dimensions, my mind raced with calculations and estimations, seeking to unravel the true value concealed within its walls. A quick assessment of New York City''s real estate market during the 1960s revealed that the average cost per square foot hovered around $25 for standard land parcels. However, this figure failed to capture the unique allure and prestige associated with a coveted location like Times Square. In the case of Times Square, the mere mention of its name wielded considerable influence, commanding premium prices and driving up the cost of real estate to staggering heights. It was a place where dreams were made, and fortunes were won and lost amid the glittering lights and bustling crowds. Taking into account the premium attached to Times Square''s prime location, it was reasonable to assume that the cost per square foot would be at least double, if not more. This conservative estimate would place the land value alone at a substantial $150,000, reflecting the premium commanded by this prestigious address. However, the true value of the property extended beyond its land alone. The inclusion of a thriving apparel store further bolstered its worth, adding another layer of profitability and potential to the equation. With its prime location and established presence in one of the city''s most iconic destinations, the apparel store represented a lucrative investment opportunity with untold potential for growth and prosperity. Taking all these factors into consideration, I ventured to estimate the total value of the property at no less than $400,000. This figure, while conservative, captured the intrinsic value and potential of the apparel store within the vibrant tapestry of Times Square''s commercial landscape. Then moving on to the last document, it was a death certificate. The moment I laid eyes on the death certificate, it immediately captured my attention, pulling me away from the deed. My gaze traced every line of text on the document, absorbing the details with unwavering focus until I reached the end. As I scrutinized the contents, a sudden realization washed over me, plunging me into a moment of profound clarity. My attention was drawn to the photograph of a woman displayed prominently on the side of the document. -x-x-x-x-x- Name: Jessica Payne Whitney. Date of Birth: November 11, 1930. Place of Birth: Boston, Massachusetts. Gender: Female. Occupation: Investment Banker. Date of Death: May 7, 1965. Time of Death: 2335 hours. Place of Death: New York Medical College. City of Death: New York. Marital Status: Unmarried. Closest Living Relative: Cornelius Vanderbilt Whitney (First Cousin once removed). Cause of Death: Maternal hemorrhage due to complications during childbirth. -x-x-x-x-x- This solitary certificate laid to rest all my uncertainties surrounding my mother and her lineage. It confirmed beyond a shadow of a doubt that she hailed from the esteemed Whitney family. According to the details inscribed on the document, she was thirty-five years old at the time of her passing, and notably, she was not wedded to my father. What astonished me the most was her occupation. In an era where women''s roles in the workforce were still relatively limited, her profession stood out as a remarkable anomaly. To be employed in a male-dominated field like investment banking was nothing short of extraordinary. Her closest relative is none other than ¡®The¡¯ Cornelius Vanderbilt Whitney. This revelation somehow solidifies my blood relation to a significant figure in 20th-century United States history. This could prove to be crucial for my future. The cause of my mother¡¯s death is listed as maternal hemorrhage, indicating that she passed away during childbirth. While I may not feel a lingering attachment to her, I can''t help but feel a sense of pity for her plight. As I remained lost in my thoughts, my father retrieved a crisp white sheet of paper and began jotting down figures. I trained my gaze on the paper, curious to discern his intentions. It quickly became evident that he was tallying up his assets. $201,500 + $415,000 + $45,500 = ¡­.. I carefully scrutinized each figure, one by one. The substantial value listed as the ¡®stock valuation¡¯ indicated that the stock prices of Lewis Corps must be soaring to elevate the value of my father''s shares to over two hundred thousand dollars. Observing the next amount meticulously, it became apparent that the valuation of $415,000 likely corresponded to the apparel store, considering its prime location in Times Square. As for the $45,500, it seemed reasonable to assume that it represented liquid assets, possibly cash reserves. Upon tallying up the figures, my father arrived at a total valuation of $662,000. With the inclusion of my Trust Fund''s value, surpassing the million-dollar mark seemed like an attainable feat. As I mulled over the possibilities, a sense of curiosity gripped me, urging me to delve deeper into the matter. Whatever my father''s motives may be, it was evident that his actions held significance, and unraveling the mystery behind his calculations would undoubtedly shed light on his plans for the future. But what could possibly prompt him to assess his net worth at this particular moment? Ch-6: Leaving New York [Daniel¡¯s PoV] 6 Months Later¡­ Seated comfortably on the plush couch in our room, the man in the impeccably tailored black suit leaned forward, his demeanor exuding confidence as he made his final proposition. "Sir, this is my final offer," he stated firmly, his voice carrying a note of assurance. "I''m willing to go as high as $435,000." My father, positioned across from him, considered the offer carefully, weighing the implications of accepting or declining. After a brief moment of contemplation, his face broke into a satisfied grin. "We''ve got a deal!" he declared enthusiastically, rising from his seat with a sense of accomplishment. Extending his right hand towards the man, he awaited the confirmation of their agreement. With a nod of approval, the man accepted the offer, reaching out to clasp my father''s hand in a firm handshake. Seated on a chair nearby, I found myself drawn into the unfolding negotiations, a silent observer of the dance of commerce taking place before me. It seemed my father deemed this an opportune moment for me to gain firsthand insight into the intricacies of business dealings. While I appreciated his intention to involve me in such matters, I couldn''t help but feel a sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu. After all, during my tenure as an executive of the subsidiary company in my past life, such negotiations had been part and parcel of my daily routine. Nonetheless, I remained attentive, ready to glean whatever wisdom I could from the proceedings. Remaining seated, I observed as the conversation pivoted towards the logistics of payment. With each passing moment, it became increasingly apparent that both parties were keen on reaching a mutually beneficial agreement. After a brief exchange of ideas, a consensus was swiftly reached: a bank wire transfer would serve as the preferred mode of payment. "Let''s reconvene at the attorney''s office tomorrow for the settlement," my father proposed, his tone carrying a sense of finality as he began tidying up the scattered documents on the table. "Agreed. Thank you for your time, sir," the man in the black suit acknowledged respectfully. With a nod of acknowledgment, my father watched as the man swiftly exited the room, clutching the briefcase firmly in his hand. Father let out a soft sigh as he meticulously organized the documents back into the file. Seizing the opportunity, I hopped off the chair and settled beside him on the couch. The weight of the recent transaction hung in the air, and I couldn''t help but ponder its implications. With the successful negotiation yielding $435,000 for the apparel store in Times Square, the significance of the amount wasn''t lost on me. It was nearly equivalent to the value of my trust fund, a realization that underscored the magnitude of the deal. Reflecting on the past eight to nine months, I couldn''t ignore the visible toll it had taken on my father. Stress had become a constant companion, shadowing his every move. There were moments when it seemed to consume him entirely, prompting a week-long hiatus from work in a desperate bid for respite. Yet, even that brief reprieve proved insufficient as he swiftly returned to the relentless grind of his daily routine. Father''s dedication was undeniable, evident in the long hours he devoted to his work¡ªnearly ten hours a day at the office, followed by an additional three hours of labor upon returning home. The weight of his responsibilities seemed to weigh heavily upon him, leaving little room for rest or relaxation. In hindsight, I couldn''t help but feel a sense of relief at the prospect of him selling the apparel store. While it undoubtedly represented a significant source of income, the detrimental impact on his well-being far outweighed any financial gain. After all, what good is wealth if one''s health is compromised? It was a difficult decision, undoubtedly fraught with its own set of challenges, but I couldn''t shake the conviction that it was ultimately for the best. As I watched him now, meticulously tidying up the remnants of the transaction, I couldn''t help but silently commend him for prioritizing his health and well-being above all else. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. With the cash father received, he had the option to either launch a brand new store in Times Square, leveraging his confidence in a venture he believed in, or simply park the funds in investments to allow them to grow through compounding, enabling him to sustain himself off the interest. In the following days, my dad, Adam, decided to cash out his stash from the bank and bid farewell to my nanny. Was her name Blaire? Or maybe Bell? The day after her departure, something strange happened. Dad ditched his usual routine and took charge of my morning routine. He whipped up breakfast, fed me, made sure I was spick and span and even packed my bag. Hold up. Packed my bag? What was he up to? I had no clue what was going on until Dad started dressing me in fancier baby clothes. By this point, I was already flaunting my speaking skills, impressing everyone around me. But, sticking to the script, Dad casually passed it off as my genius. I kept pestering him with questions, like, "What''s the deal, Dad?" And all he kept saying was, "Don''t worry, Danny. Everything''s gonna be just fine," in that soothing tone of his. With a tender grip on me and a determined stride, Dad navigated towards the door. As we exited the room, he carefully placed me on the floor, ensuring the lock clicked securely. Then, just as he reached to lift me once more, his attention was drawn to the small nameplate affixed to our door, its golden letters glinting in the light. The nameplate, elegantly engraved with "Adam A. Lewis" in stylish italics, caught Dad''s eye. With a gentle smile, he reached out, carefully removing it from the wall. Swiftly, he unzipped the trolley, tucking the nameplate safely inside. Then, lifting me once more, we stepped out into the bustling street, where a sleek black Cadillac awaited us on the curb. Father exchanged nods with the elderly gentleman behind the wheel, who reciprocated the gesture respectfully. As Dad made his way across the street, the old man emerged from the driver''s seat, a sense of purpose evident in his movements. "Good morning, Master Adam," the old man greeted with a respectful bow. "Morning, Rick. So, you got the news, didn¡¯t you?" Dad inquired, his tone indicating a sense of anticipation. "Yes, Master Adam. Your father told me to drop both of you," Rick replied humbly. "Well then, what are we waiting for?" Dad responded with a smile, exchanging a knowing glance with Rick as they prepared to embark on their journey. Rick courteously opened the door for us, and Dad affectionately ruffled my hair before guiding me into the car. With a gentle smile, he settled in beside me, and Rick closed the door behind us, signaling the start of our adventure. The engine hummed to life, and the car smoothly glided forward, marking the commencement of our journey. We ventured forth into the vibrancy of New York City, where towering skyscrapers stretched towards the heavens, and the pulse of city life thrummed through the bustling streets. Exiting the urban sprawl behind us, we merged onto Interstate 95 South, leaving the city''s frenetic energy in our wake. The landscape transitioned from towering buildings to sprawling suburbs, and the rhythm of the highway carried us toward the outskirts of the metropolitan area. Leaving the New York suburbs behind, we crossed the state line into New Jersey. The scenery transformed into rolling hills and lush wooded areas, dotted with quaint small towns and rural communities. The journey continued through picturesque landscapes, each bend in the road revealing a new vista of natural beauty. Our journey southward on Interstate 95 took us into Pennsylvania, renowned for its scenic countryside and rich historical landmarks. Passing through vibrant cities like Philadelphia, we caught fleeting glimpses of iconic attractions such as the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall. Venturing deeper into the state, the landscape gradually shifted, giving way to expansive farmlands and verdant forests that sprawled across the horizon. As we neared the Maryland border, I couldn''t help but notice a subtle shift in the scenery around us. The landscape transformed into rolling hills adorned with dense forests, a stark contrast to the urban sprawl we left behind. Exiting Interstate 95, we seamlessly transitioned onto Interstate 70 West, embarking on a new leg of our journey. Despite the onset of winter in February, occasional snow flurries danced in and out of view, adding a touch of enchantment to the idyllic countryside. After nearly four hours on the road, our journey culminated in our arrival at a quaint town nestled along the banks of the majestic Potomac River. With a glimmer of excitement in his eyes, Father turned to me, his voice filled with anticipation, and announced, "Welcome to our new home, Danny. Welcome to Brunswick." Ch-7: Two Years in Brunswick [Adam¡¯s PoV] Two years have passed since I made the life-altering decision to leave behind the hustle and bustle of city living and embark on a new journey in Brunswick, Maryland. This choice didn''t come about suddenly; rather, it was the culmination of years of enduring the relentless chaos and stress that city life imposed upon me. Amidst the relentless pace and unforgiving demands of urban existence, there was one beacon of light that emerged from the shadows, my son, Daniel. Arriving in Brunswick with my toddler son marked the beginning of a new chapter, one characterized by tranquility, serenity, and a much-needed respite from the frenetic pace of city life. The decision to uproot ourselves from the concrete jungle and seek refuge in the quietude of a small town was not taken lightly, but it was a choice made out of necessity, a longing for a simpler, more meaningful existence. As we settled into our new surroundings, I couldn''t help but feel a sense of relief wash over me. Gone were the incessant honking of car horns, the cacophony of voices clamoring for attention, and the perpetual rush that defined every waking moment in the city. Instead, we were greeted by the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze, the melodious chirping of birds, and the unhurried pace of life that permeated every corner of Brunswick. While the transition wasn''t without its challenges, particularly for a single parent navigating the unfamiliar terrain of parenthood, it was a journey filled with hope, promise, and the prospect of a brighter future. Daniel, my constant companion, and source of unwavering love and joy, served as a constant reminder of why I made the decision to leave behind the chaos of city life and embrace the tranquility of small-town living. In the two years since our arrival, Brunswick has become more than just a place to call home; it''s become a sanctuary, a refuge from the storms of life, and a haven where we can nurture our bond and cultivate a sense of belonging. Seeking to shield Danny from urban hardships, I relocated us to tranquil Brunswick. Free from city chaos, I aimed for his upbringing to be serene and secure, fostering a childhood of exploration and natural beauty. Here, he would escape the struggles I faced, finding solace in our peaceful surroundings. For the past two years, I''ve been homeschooling Danny, and his intellect never ceases to amaze me. Initially, I anticipated him reaching a third-grade level by age six, but he''s far exceeded my expectations. Now, he''s tackling material meant for sixth graders, leaving me in awe of his capabilities. It''s a testament to his prodigious mind and insatiable thirst for knowledge. Each evening, I find myself challenged to keep up with his rapid progress, grateful for the opportunity to nurture his remarkable potential and guide him on his educational journey. It''s a common stereotype that academically gifted individuals lack street smarts or practical knowledge of the world, but my son defies that assumption entirely. Far from being sheltered or naive, he demonstrates a keen understanding of street smarts and the realities of life outside the classroom. It''s as if he inherited the shrewdness and resourcefulness of his grandfather, seamlessly blending academic prowess with practical wisdom. While part of me hoped to protect him from the harsh realities of the world, I''m proud to see him navigate it with confidence and intelligence beyond his years. Every evening, I engage in sports with him, and somehow, within just a week of playing any sport, he outshines me. It''s become a routine to switch sports regularly to keep up with his rapid progress. Who knows, perhaps he has the makings of a professional athlete. I''ve heard of baseball players earning upwards of $50,000 per year, which is quite impressive indeed. Talking of money, I took a leap and established ''Astor & Whitney Consultants¡¯ in our quaint town. I named it after mine and my son''s middle names, since using our last name for individual business purposes is a no-go due to the Lewis Family rules. Over the past two years, I''ve built a team of four dedicated individuals. Our primary focus is supporting small businesses with everything from strategic planning to marketing and financial management. We''re here to lend a hand in operations too. But that''s not all¡ªwe also extend our expertise to individuals and families in the community. Whether it''s financial planning, investment advice, or retirement planning, we''re here to guide them through it all. It''s been quite the journey setting up shop here, but I''m proud of what we''ve accomplished so far and excited for what lies ahead. My efforts in the consultancy business have earned me considerable respect within our small town of fewer than 4,000 residents. News of my arrival circulated swiftly, leading to a growing clientele of 37 small business owners and over 300 individuals seeking wealth management advice from me. It''s fulfilling to see the impact I''ve made in such a close-knit community, and I''m grateful for the trust they''ve placed in me to help them achieve their financial goals. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. In the ongoing financial year, our consultancy firm, "Astor & Whitney Consultants," achieved a total revenue of $65,000, resulting in a profit of $30,000. These earnings are deposited into my bank account, while our expenses, totaling $35,000, cover employee salaries, enhanced access to financial information, and other essential resources crucial for the efficient operation of our business. Initially, two years ago, I invested nearly $150,000 in purchasing seven houses across the town. Danny and I currently reside in one of them, while the remaining five are rented out to tenants. Additionally, I sold one property to a new resident, earning a 10% profit on the initial investment. The rental income from the properties amounts to approximately $500 per month. Ah, that''s right. Jessie''s trust fund for Danny is currently valued at something near $550,000. Sometimes, I can''t help but wonder how different our lives might have been if Jessie were still with us. As I wiped away a hint of moisture from my eyes, I couldn''t help but marvel at Danny''s brilliance. There he was, sitting beside me, absorbed in The Wall Street Journal. His intellect seemed boundless, encompassing not only academic prowess but also a deep emotional understanding. I couldn''t recall a single instance of him asking about his mother''s identity. It was as though he already knew, intuitively grasping the tragic fate she met. "Danny," I called out, curious about the day''s headlines. He looked up from the newspaper, his eyes bright with knowledge. "The big news today is all about the Apollo 9 launch," he replied confidently. "It''s the third crewed mission in NASA''s Apollo program, and it''s the first time they''re testing the Lunar Module in Earth orbit. They''re conducting essential tests to evaluate how both the Lunar Module and the Command/Service Module perform in Earth orbit." "It''s quite a competition," I mused, contemplating the ongoing space race. "I wonder which ideology will emerge victorious in the end ¨C democracy or communism?" The Space Race. It refers to the competition between the United States and the Soviet Union to achieve significant milestones in space exploration. It is a critical aspect of the broader ideological, military, and technological rivalry between the two superpowers. It all began when the Soviet Union launched the world''s first artificial satellite, Sputnik 1, into orbit around the Earth. This event marked the beginning of the Space Age and sparked concerns in the United States about Soviet technological superiority. It wasn¡¯t long before Yuri Gagarin became the first human to travel into space and orbit the Earth aboard the Soviet spacecraft Vostok 1. His successful mission on April 12, 1961, made him an international hero and demonstrated the Soviet Union''s lead in space exploration. Sadly, Yuri tragically died in a plane crash on March 27, 1968. Gagarin was serving as a test pilot for the Soviet Air Force at the time of his death. The exact circumstances surrounding the crash remain somewhat unclear, but it is believed that the plane he was piloting, a MiG-15 jet trainer, collided with another aircraft or encountered severe weather conditions, leading to the fatal accident. "I think the US will win the space race, father," Danny suddenly replied. "Oh? And why''s that?" I asked, intrigued by his perspective. While I suspected he might lean towards his homeland, it was always interesting to hear a child''s take on such matters. "While the USSR initially held a significant advantage with the launch of the first artificial satellite and sending the first human into space, their lead has diminished as the United States has begun to outperform them," he explained, his tone firm with conviction. He elaborated, citing the recent advancements and achievements of the American space program as evidence of their growing dominance in the space race. He continued, delving into his analysis with a thoughtful expression. "The reasons behind these failures could be manifold, but I believe ideology plays a significant role, as you suggested. Firstly, the centrally planned economies of Communist regimes often prove to be less efficient and innovative compared to capitalist economies like ours. The inefficiencies inherent in centralized planning, combined with a lack of incentives for innovation and productivity, can result in stagnation and decline. Secondly, democracies, with their emphasis on free markets, private enterprise, and competition, tend to outperform communist economies in terms of economic growth, prosperity, and living standards. The success of democratic nations in providing opportunities for economic advancement and social mobility undermines the appeal of communism. Lastly, Communist regimes often resort to authoritarian rule, political repression, and censorship to maintain control. This suppression of political freedoms and human rights undermines popular support for communism, fostering internal dissent and resistance movements." My astonishment knew no bounds. How could a child possess such profound insight into a global issue and grasp its complexities with such clarity? Danny, my son, he is not a mere prodigy, he¡¯s a once-in-a-lifetime genius. I couldn''t help but wonder, what hidden depths lie within him? In that moment, he seemed to embody the spirit of my father, his intellect evocative of the wisdom that guided our family from small business owners to one of the richest in the world. Ch-8: Astor & Whitney Fund [Daniel¡¯s PoV] Yesterday marked a significant milestone in my life as I celebrated my ninth birthday amidst the grandeur of the town hall. The event was orchestrated with meticulous detail by none other than Mayor Jess Orndorff himself, a testament to the esteem my father holds in the community. Adam, my father, now assumes the prestigious role of Managing Partner in his enterprise, which has undergone a transformation from its humble origins as ''Astor & Whitney Consultants'' to its new iteration as ''Astor & Whitney Fund''. Around seven years ago, my father ventured into the realm of consultancy, planting the seeds of prosperity in our quaint town. His visionary leadership and unwavering dedication soon bore fruit, propelling his enterprise to remarkable heights. By 1971, the influence of Astor & Whitney had extended beyond the confines of our town, reaching neighboring communities and cities across Maryland State. Along the journey, my father earned not only professional acclaim but also the heartfelt admiration of the elite echelons of society. Therefore, in the preceding year of 1973, my father made a pivotal decision to transform his enterprise from a consultancy firm into an investment fund. Presented with a myriad of options in the realm of investment funds, he narrowed his focus to two distinct categories: Hedge Fund or Mutual Fund. That evening, I joined my father at the table, and together, we delved into a thorough discussion regarding the merits and drawbacks of both hedge funds and mutual funds. Despite my tender age of eight, my father had come to recognize my aptitude for comprehending such complex concepts. Let''s delve into the intricacies of mutual funds. A mutual fund operates as a professionally managed investment pool, gathering funds from numerous investors to create a diversified portfolio. This portfolio may include a mix of stocks, bonds, money market instruments, or a blend of these assets, aiming to achieve optimal returns while managing risks. To sustain operations, mutual funds levy fees and expenses, covering various costs such as investment management fees, administrative expenses, and other operational overheads. These fees are critical for the fund''s sustained management and performance. Mutual funds offer accessibility to a broad spectrum of investors, spanning individual investors, retirement accounts, institutional investors, and financial advisors. Investors typically access mutual funds through brokerage platforms, retirement accounts, or by direct investment through the fund company. In contrast, a hedge fund operates as an investment pool, aggregating funds from accredited and institutional investors. These funds are then utilized to implement diverse strategies aimed at yielding favorable returns. Unlike conventional mutual funds, hedge funds enjoy greater flexibility in their investment methodologies and can deploy a broader spectrum of strategies, extending beyond conventional long-only investing approaches. In hedge funds, investors are subject to both management and performance fees. The management fee constitutes a percentage of the assets under management (AUM), serving as compensation for the fund''s ongoing management and operational costs. Additionally, a performance fee is levied, calculated as a percentage of the profits generated by the fund that exceed a predefined benchmark or hurdle rate. This incentivizes hedge fund managers to maximize returns for investors, aligning their interests with those of the fund''s stakeholders. The performance fee structure encourages managers to achieve superior investment results, as they only receive compensation when the fund outperforms its established performance targets. Hedge funds cater exclusively to accredited investors, who must satisfy specific income or net worth criteria stipulated by securities regulators. Accredited investors encompass high-net-worth individuals, institutional investors, and other sophisticated entities capable of assuming the risks inherent in hedge fund investments. This exclusivity ensures that hedge fund participants possess the financial sophistication and resources necessary to navigate the complexities of alternative investment strategies. If my father had opted for a Hedge Fund, he would have risked alienating 90% of his original clients, predominantly middle-class individuals who wouldn''t meet the criteria to qualify as accredited investors. However, he could have strategically targeted high-net-worth individuals capable of injecting substantial sums of money into the fund. While this shift may have resulted in the loss of some clientele, the significant investments from affluent investors would likely have compensated for any shortfall in client numbers. Father ultimately chose to establish a mutual fund, prioritizing the trust and loyalty of his existing clients over the potential for greater profits. He opted for a mid-cap mutual fund, reflecting his commitment to maintaining a balanced and responsible approach to investment management. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Mid-cap mutual funds specialize in investing in companies with medium-sized market capitalizations, typically ranging between the top 70% and 85% of the market by size. These companies are often experiencing rapid growth and expansion, presenting greater growth potential compared to larger counterparts. While mid-cap funds offer the prospect of higher returns over the long term, they also tend to exhibit higher volatility compared to large-cap funds. Over the past year, he has attracted the backing of more than 2,000 investors, including notable figures such as the mayors of Annapolis and Brunswick, executives from B&O Railroad, a prominent railroad company in Maryland, as well as affluent retirees with substantial wealth. In the past year, the fund amassed a total of $4.2 million, and achieved an impressive 12.3% return during the 1973-74 financial year despite a turbulent economic backdrop. While the Dow Jones Industrial Average recorded a -16.5% decline, indicating an impending recession, Father managed to generate profits for his clients. This remarkable performance has elevated his reputation within finance circles in Maryland and Virginia. This year, the fund has attracted nearly 10,000 investors and has accumulated a staggering $24.5 million in funding. With the fund management fee set at 1% of assets under management (AUM), this amounts to approximately $245,000 in revenue for the year, regardless of whether any profits are generated. Now, moving on from the corporation part and coming to myself and my personal growth. When I was seven years old, I finally reached level 10. Suddenly, a screen popped up, blocking my vision. It mentioned something about unlocking my skillset, and then disappeared on its own. Out of instinct, I muttered "skills," and another screen appeared. To my surprise, it listed all my skills, which turned out to be practically nonexistent. I couldn''t believe that all my hard work had seemingly amounted to nothing. But guess what? I was wrong. All I had to do was perform a task related to that skill, and it would unlock at an appropriate level. My first unlocked skill was ''Reading,'' and it activated itself at level 53. It seemed to have accumulated what I had achieved in my previous life. Currently my ¡®skills¡¯ screen is something like this:
Skils Level
Reading 59
Running 37
Pitching 22
Hitting 19
Arithmetic 61
Economics 77
Manipulation 58
Analysis 48
Oration 36
Leadership 35
For obvious reasons, my ''economics'' skill is the highest, as it should be since I have a master''s degree in the field. Most of my other skills were unlocked at a certain level, but ''Pitching'' and ''Hitting'' were exceptions; I had to start from scratch with those. I practice baseball daily, and despite my age, I outperform my peers. That''s why I''ve taken to practicing with middle schoolers. Even though I''m still homeschooled, I''ve taken on the challenge of self-studying Grade 11 material. Initially, I thought it would be a breeze, given my previous academic achievements. However, I quickly realized that time has a way of making you forget things you haven''t used in a while. Concepts that once seemed simple now require more effort to grasp, and I find myself dedicating extra time to review and reinforce my understanding. Despite the challenges, I''m determined to excel and continue pushing myself to reach new heights. Wow, it''s already 10 AM! Times flows when I¡¯m talking to myself. Let''s head over to dad''s office today. I make it a habit to drop by my father¡¯s office at least once or twice a week. It not only allows me to become familiar with the employees there but also gives me insights into the technology and operations of this era. As I lounged beneath the sprawling branches of a tree in our backyard, I realized the morning was slipping away. With a stretch, I left the peaceful shade and headed indoors. In a matter of minutes, I swapped my relaxed attire for a simple t-shirt and shorts, ensuring both comfort and practicality for the day ahead. After securing the house, I set off towards my father''s office, eager for the familiar bustle of the workplace. Nestled along the serene banks of the Potomac River, the office of ''Astor & Whitney Fund'' commands a picturesque view of the tranquil waters that separate Maryland from the state of Virginia. This idyllic setting, far removed from the hustle and bustle of urban life, lends a sense of calm and serenity to our workplace. While it may not rival the frenetic energy of New York City, the activity here is palpable, bustling with the daily comings and goings of local residents and business professionals alike.