2024-12-07 21:07:08The first cock crow woke Barry up.
He groggily lifted his head, blinking against the light coming from his laptop. Barry was startled his laptop was still on. The time was 5.am. Expecting to see a modest gain or a loss, Barry peered into the laptop screen. “Let's look at how much I've earned today.” Suddenly, Barry froze as he saw his account balance. $375 TRILLION! Barry staggered back away from the laptop as if it had suddenly turned into a cobra. He backed himself against the wall, his heart pounding wildly against his ribs, but not for once, did his eyes left the numbers on the screen: $375 trillion. “I don't believe it,” he muttered, his breathing laboured. “This is a dream. It has to be a dream.” Barry pinched his arm, hard and twice. The pain he got told him he was wide awake, and this wasn't some dream. He slowly approached the laptop, his legs wobbling. When he was close enough, he peered at his account. The balance ticked up again: $375,010,420,000,000.00 Barry gasped in shock. “How the hell is this possible? The numbers–they're still climbing.” Another second passed. $375,020,840,000,000.00. Barry's jaws dropped as he realized every second was adding $10.42 billion to his account. Barry dropped to his knees, feverishly opening the trading charts. The market was still chaotic and disastrous to trade, but somehow Barry's trades had skyrocketed beyond logic. Barry scrolled through transaction logs, trying to understand how this had happened. None of it made any sense to him. “This can't be possible. The system had probably glitched. That's the only plausible answer.” Barry's mind raced. Could this really be a demo account? What if it wasn't? Barry needed to be sure whether the money was real or not. There was only one bank Barry could trust, and that was the Phoenix Bank. The Phoenix Bank was the only bank in the world that can offer protection to trillions of dollars. It was now 5:30.am and the Phoenix Bank would be open by 7:00.am. If there was any bank in the world that could confirm the account and understand what was happening to him, it was the Phoenix Bank. Barry hurriedly shut down the laptop and rushed to the bathroom. His hurried preparation caused noises around the apartment, waking Snow from her sleep. “Big Brother?” She called sleepily from her bed. “What's the commotion about?” “Nothing, Snow,” Barry said, forcing a smile as he entered her room. “Go back to sleep. I'll be going out for a bit.” “Eh?” Snow exclaimed, checking her bedside clock. “It's five o'clock in the morning.” “I'll be back soon, I promise,” Barry kissed her on the forehead. “Just stay indoors and don't go anywhere until I return. Got it?” Snow stared worriedly at Barry as he rushed out with her laptop. She had never seen him look so anxious. “What the hell happened to Big brother?” She asked herself. * * * * Barry was standing in front of the massive gates of the Phoenix Bank feeling anxious. Unlike other banks, Phoenix bank was a very exclusive bank with branches in just 30 countries in the world. Each country had just one bank delegated to the capital state. North Hills, being a capital state, happens to be lucky to get one Phoenix bank built. By 8.am., Barry was ushered by a sharply dressed Blondie receptionist into the lobby. She had a bright smile on her face and was warm and nice to him, despite his shabby clothes. Phoenix Bank had a reputation for treating every customer with respect and honour, irrespective of status or wealth. “Good morning, sir,” the receptionist welcomed him. “You're our first customer today. How can I assist you?” Barry looked around him nervously. “I need to discuss something privately. It's Forex related. Do you have a Forex guru or something?” The smiling receptionist nodded. “But of course, please come with me. Right this way.” Barry loved it how she didn't dismiss him because of his shabby clothes. These guys were the best. He was led to a set of golden elevators, which whisked them upward to the executive floor. When the doors opened, Barry found himself in a large, furnished office. A man in a perfectly tailored navy suit stood up to greet him, a bright smile on his face, as if Barry were the most important person in the world. “Good morning, Mr…?” the man inquired, extending his hand. Barry shook his hand firmly. “Barry, just Barry is fine.” “I'm Jeremy Austin, senior Forex analyst and wealth manager for the Phoenix Bank,” the man said, gesturing to an expensive leather chair across his desk. “Please, seat. Is it too early for a cup of coffee?” “No I'm good,” Barry sat down, placing Snow's laptop on the desk. “I have a problem. My forex trading account has been acting up crazy after I traded last night. It's freaking me out.” Jeremy returned to his chair. “Let me take a look, Mr. Barry.” Barry didn't hesitate. He opened the laptop, logged into his account, and spun the screen around, so Jeremy could see it. “At first, I thought I was trading on a demo account but after I woke up, I'm not so sure,” Barry said, leaning forward. “Could you confirm the account for me?” “Sure, give me a second,” Jeremy examined the screen closely. At first, he was startled when he saw Barry's balance. He had never seen such an amount on a Forex account. $10.42 billion topped just then, the next second, the account balance was topped by another $10.42 billion. Jeremy blinked twice. “Wha–what just happened?” The next second, another $10.42 billion was earned. Barry watched as Jeremy's eyes widened so wide they threatened to fall off his eye sockets. “In my entire career, I've never seen anything like this before,” Jeremy exclaimed. “Numbers like this aren't supposed to exist in a Forex trading account.” Barry placed both hands on the table, leaning closer. “I suspect it might be a glitch or something. Is it a demo account?” Jeremy shook his head. “You're wrong, Barry. These are neither a glitch nor a demo account. These trades, these profits—they're real and legitimate. There's no way the system could produce errors like this.” Barry felt a cold sensation washing over him. If what Jeremy was saying was true, that could only mean one thing. Barry had been trading on a real Forex trading account. It wasn't a demo account after all. His earnings were as real as his trades. Jeremy reached out and pulled out his phone. He dialed some numbers and spoke as the line connected. “Get me the Global Operations Executive on the line immediately. I need her here in person. Now!” Jeremy turned to regard Barry as he ended the call. “This is beyond me, Barry. We'll need to verify everything down to the last cent.” Barry's stomach tightened. “Who is coming?” “The granddaughter of the late chairman of Phoenix bank, Veronica Phoenix,” Jeremy revealed.
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Another brief silence passed before Eleanor continued.“My husband had been battling sickness for the last eight months. It was slow and very painful. I stayed by his side the entire time. I didn’t tell anyone because—” she paused, glancing away for a moment, “no one ever wanted to meet him. Not once. They had no interest in him because he wasn’t one of them. He wasn’t from money. But he was a good man. And I loved him. So I married him anyway.”Barry listened intently, watching the way her voice softened when she spoke about her husband.“My father,” she continued, “he disowned me the moment I told him I was marrying below my class. He cut me off—no funds, no support. And the rest of the family followed suit. They don’t even know what he looked like. Not a single one of them.”She looked up at Barry now. Her eyes were firm again. “And now, my father wants to hand over Drayton Enterprises to one of his children. I want it to be me. That’s why I accepted the invitation. But there’s a c
The Dayton crisis
Mr. Drayton's sharp voice cut through the air. "Eleanor, take your seat and don't waste my time." His tone left no room for argument. Eleanor gave Barry a brief nod and led him to two empty seats along the left side of the table. They sat down quietly, while Mr. Drayton leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table.Mr. Drayton surveyed the room, his expression stoic. His children with their spouses beside them, waited in tense silence. Finally, he began. “I’ve gathered you all here for a reason,” he said. “I’ve been advised to sign for bankruptcy. Drayton Enterprises is a shadow of what it once was. I’ve pulled every string, made every call, sacrificed more than you can imagine… but now, it’s out of my hands.” He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing. "That’s why I’ve called this meeting. To give each of you a chance. Whoever among you can save this company from collapse will be named its new chairman." The room erupted in murmurs.Chairs creaked as sibli
The interview
The next morning, Barry arrived at 52 Grandhill Avenue, dressed in the midnight-blue suit he’d gambled nearly all his money on. He stepped into a tall glass building nestled between a row of corporate offices.He checked in with the receptionist, and was led through a narrow hallway into a quiet, elegantly furnished room.A few moments later, the door opened, and a young woman stepped in.She was stunning—early thirties, with long raven-black hair tied into a loose bun. Her eyes were sharp but carried the softness of someone who'd been taught to smile through her troubles. She wore a tailored cream blazer over a silk blouse, and red heels that clicked gently against the floor as she walked up to him.Everything about her screamed money. She sat down across from Barry and folded her hands neatly on the table.“You must be Barry,” she said, her voice calm, businesslike.“That’s me.”"I’m Eleanor Drayton,” she said. “But before we go any further, I should tell you something important.
A job offer
The following morning, Barry sat on a creaky wooden bench outside the landlord’s temporary office.It was a small metal container parked beside the damaged apartment complex. He could still smell the smoke and damp ash lingering in the air. Caution tape lined the charred entrance to his block. A few of the tenants passed by, shooting him angry or pitying glances.Inside the container, the landlord sat behind a flimsy desk, tapping aggressively on a calculator. His face was still swollen with frustration from the night before. A printed sheet lay in front of him with a list of repairs and itemized damage costs.Soon, Barry was summoned. When he stepped inside, the landlord didn’t even look up."You owe me $56,000," he spat. "That's what it'll cost to repair the damage your carelessness caused. Gas leak, fire damage, electrical rewiring, structural repairs, repainting, replacement of doors, windows, and your entire unit’s furnishings. Not to mention the stress you’ve caused me and t
The Second misfortune
Barry sat hunched in one of the plastic chairs. The sterile smell of antiseptic filled the hospital lobby as he rubbed his temples.His mind replayed the accident again and again—how fast it had all happened, how helpless he had felt in that single moment. The waiting was torture. He just needed to know the man would be okay. Then, the door to the doctor's office slammed open. Barry's head snapped up as his boss, Mr. Calloway, and Jordan marched out. Jordan's face was masked in anger as he immediately jabbed a finger in Barry's direction. "You're in a lot of trouble, Barry," Jordan growled, his voice loud enough for everyone in the lobby to hear.Mr. Calloway held up a hand, cutting him off. "I'll handle this. Give us a moment, Jordan." Jordan hesitated, glaring at Barry for a second longer before huffing and stomping off toward the exit.As soon as they were alone, Barry turned to the boss. "What about Rick? Is he okay?" Mr. Calloway sighed, running a hand over his thinnin
The Wait
A month had passed since Barry left his life behind. Now, he sat on a stack of steel beams under the shade of a half-built warehouse, wearing a stained orange vest and a hard hat. The midday sun hung high, casting waves of heat across the construction site. Dust clung to his boots and pants, and sweat rolled down the back of his neck.He unwrapped a sandwich he’d packed that morning. It was just bread, lettuce, and a slice of ham.The bread was a little dry, the ham a little thin, but he didn’t complain. This was his life now. The midday sun beat down on his back as he took a bite, the dry bread sticking in his throat. He washed it down with lukewarm water from a dented canteen. For a while, he sat there, his mind racing with questions. What was he even doing here? He’d been in Z City for weeks now. This was the very same city where he had once rescued Adam from the Homeland family. And yet, despite everything the Golden Cat had warned, the Black Cat of Misfortune hadn’t sh
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