World's Richest Man: I Leaped Across Time

As I sat in the lounge at Logan International Airport, sipping on an espresso, my phone buzzed. The caller ID showed Derec.

I picked up immediately. "What's up, Derec?"

"Raegan's ready to talk now. He's set up on Skype," Derec said.

I glanced at the time. My flight wasn't boarding for another forty minutes. "Alright, send me the link."

Moments later, I was in a private corner of the lounge, laptop open, as Raegan Lee's sharp features appeared on the screen. His Hong Kong office was dimly lit, the skyline glittering in the background.

"Jack," Raegan greeted, his tone brisk. "Derec said you had something important to discuss."

"Raegan," I began, leaning forward slightly. "We're making a major move. We're allocating $1 billion into Asia, focusing on telecommunications, digital services, and consumer finance in emerging markets. And we're bringing in a partner, Appaloosa Management."

Raegan's eyebrows lifted slightly, his interest piqued. "Tepper's group? What's the angle?"

"We'll pool resources and expertise," I explained. "Appaloosa is focused on logistics and industrials, while we handle the digital sphere. Together, we'll have the infrastructure to dominate supply chains and the platforms to connect consumers."

Raegan nodded thoughtfully. "I see the potential. Any specific targets yet?"

"Southeast Asia will be the primary focus—Vietnam, Indonesia, and the Philippines, but also smaller markets like Laos and Cambodia. We'll prioritize companies where we can secure board seats or strategic equity stakes."

"Understood," Raegan said, jotting notes. "This colaboration can work out great, but the market is growing fast now. We need to hit the ground running." Read the latest on empire

"Absolutely," I agreed. "We're counting on you to recalibrate the strategy. Find the right opportunities. Influence is the priority."

Raegan's sharp smile appeared. "You've got it. I'll have a detailed proposal ready in 48 hours."

"Perfect," I said. "Keep me updated."

With that, the call ended, and I leaned back in my chair.

Shortly after, my flight was called. As I approached the gate, a professional-looking woman in her mid-20s stood by the boarding door. She was wearing a crisp uniform with a perfectly tailored blazer, her blonde hair neatly pulled back into a bun.

Her makeup was subtle but flawless, accentuating her sharp cheekbones and striking blue eyes.

She glanced at the manifest as I handed her my boarding pass, her expression brightening with recognition. "Mr. Somnus," she said with a polished, professional smile. "Welcome aboard. We're delighted to have you with us."

Her voice was smooth and pleasant, but it carried an air of confidence that matched her poised demeanor. "Your seat is ready; let me know if there's anything you need."

"Thank you," I said, nodding, as she gestured me down the jetway.

The landing in Gainesville was smooth, and as I stepped off the plane,

A black sedan was already waiting for me outside, its driver holding a sign with my name. The drive home was uneventful, the city's quiet streets rolling by as I thought through the next steps in my plan.

When I finally reached my house, pushing open the door, I was greeted by the soft hum of the air conditioning.

"Jack? You're back!" Charlotte's voice carried from the living room.

As I stepped through the door, Charlotte practically leaped off the couch to greet me. She wore a light, casual dress, her hair loosely braided over one shoulder. Her smile was bright as she wrapped her arms around me in a warm hug.

"How was the trip? Did everything go as planned?"

"It went well," I said, dropping my bag by the door and returning her hug.

She pulled back slightly. "Oh! A letter came for you while you were gone. It's on the counter." She gestured to the kitchen.

Curious, I walked over and picked up the envelope, setting it aside for later. "I need coffee first," I said, heading to the kitchen.

Charlotte followed, leaning against the counter as I prepared the coffee maker. "So, today was interesting," she began. "We had this guest lecturer at the university, talking about the psychology of memory. Really fascinating stuff."

"Yeah?" I said, scooping coffee grounds into the filter. "What stood out?"

"Well, he mentioned this theory about how our brains prioritize emotional experiences over neutral ones. It's why we remember embarrassing moments or thrilling ones so vividly but forget where we put our keys."

"That makes sense," I said, pressing the brew button. "So, you're saying I should only ever lose my keys during dramatic life events?"

She laughed. "Or just keep them in a bowl by the door."

As the coffee brewed, she continued. "Oh, and at my piano session today, there was something too. There is this new student—seven years old and he is already playing at a level that I ."

"Seven?"

"Seven!" she repeated, her hands gesturing in disbelief. "He played Chopin's Études like it was nothing. It's insane."

"That's crazy," I said, pouring the coffee into two mugs. "I feel like prodigies really are getting younger and younger. It's same in chess as well"

Charlotte nodded, taking her mug as I handed it to her.

Coffee in hand, I moved to the living room and sank into the couch. Charlotte joined me, curling up on the opposite end as I picked up the letter from the table.

The handwriting on the front was neat and deliberate.

Breaking the seal, I unfolded the letter and began to read.

It was from Emily Heart.

As expected, it was about the Super PAC.

Emily explained that the structure was in place. She had hired a team of neutral professionals with connections to media outlets controled by the Hearts.

But she was at a crossroads.

I haven't given her any guidance on whether the PAC should align with Democrats or Republicans, she couldn't move forward with hiring the right people or targeting specific campaigns.

She suggested I visit the headquarters in Miami to finalize the direction, leaving a phone number for one of her contacts to coordinate the visit.

I leaned back, the letter resting on my lap.

'Neither Democrats nor Republicans', I thought.

But leaving it independend wasn't the goal either, it needed a vision.

I leaned back into the couch, staring at the ceiling with the letter still in my hand. Trying to balance both making money and shaping the political world felt like it would take over my entire life.

It was exciting but exhausting.

And then there was university. I still needed to finish it, even though it felt small compared to everything else I was working on.

Charlotte tilted her head, watching me. "What are you thinking about?"

I sighed and closed my eyes. "It's just… I've got $3 billion sitting in my brokerage account, Charlotte. In my previous life, I used to stress about how to make a few bucks here and there. Now, I have more money than I ever imagined, but instead of enjoying it, I'm buried in... work."

There was a shift in the air. I could feel her mood change, just slightly, but it was there.

"Well..." she started, her voice quieter, more reflective. "We're certainly not in the greatest of situations. With all that Liberation Group stuff…"

" "We," you say?" I muttered, my voice mellow but sharp.

She didn't flinch, her eyes steady on mine. "Babe... at this point, if I can help you somehow, I will. I know there was a real dead body at that actress's house, so If someone finds some wrongdoing on you, I'm a part of it as well."

I couldn't find the words right away.

"Sorry," I said, though it felt too little.

"It's okay," she replied with a shrug, but her eyes told me everything. "I made the decision at that Freewinds meeting, and I'm not changing it."