I Made $900 Trillion In 24 Hours

Final straw

Later that evening, just as the sun was sinking behind the skyline and casting a gold hue across the Theodore estate, a sleek black government SUV rolled up the driveway.

Brutus paced furiously in his study, still reeling from the disaster of the day.

He had gotten off a hundred calls from family and business associates. He had spent another extra two hours asking for help from people he knew and trusted.

But all his efforts turned fruitless.

Just then, his butler opened the door to his study. There was a grim expression in his face that frightened Brutus.

"Sir," the butler said, voice tight, "the Mayor is here to see you. And he’s… not alone."

Brutus scoffed. "What the hell does he want now?" He stormed toward the foyer, only to freeze in his tracks.

The Mayor stood in the doorway, his face deadpan.

Behind him, a swarm of government agents in dark suits fanned out, already moving past him into the house.

Some carried official-looking documents, others had equipment—cameras,