The Billionaire Scientists’ System:Ten Geniuses. One Mission

The hush in Adrian Kane's penthouse had lost its status as sanctuary. There was a void that needed to be filled by the thunder of consequences. For three days the world outside had been hammering at his doors, and even steel reinforced with titanium seemed less like armor hour by hour.

Dr. Adrian Kane stood by the window and did not gaze at New York's glistening tapestry. He gazed at schematics. Superimposed on his eyesight, the blue-lit interface of the Global Poverty Eradication System revealed to him the stark math of his new existence.

MISSION: LIFT 10,000,000 SOULS TO SELF-SUFFICIENCY

TIME ALLOTTED: 2 YEARS (729 Days, 14:22:18)

CURRENT PROGRESS: 0/10,000,000

ACTIVE QUEST: BUILD 'ZONE OF ABUNDANCE' — MOMBASA. 87 DAYS REMAINING.

Eighty-seven days. The number throbbed like a drumbeat in his mind. He had only just begun. The System's first billion was a drop into an ocean. The Mombasa project needed land grants, material shipments, logistics and political favor—everything needed money, the one thing he ought to have had in abundance. But his money wasn't his; it was a borrowed tool, and the System was a cold master armory.

A new window flashed in the corner of his eye—a notification from his world-monitoring program. Another. A fifth this morning.

KANE GENOMICS STOCK: -4.7%. TRADING HALTED.

ANALYST REPORT: BLACKWOOD GROUP DOWNGRADES KANE GENOMICS TO 'SELL'. CITED: "STRATEGIC INDECISION & LACK OF BOARD CONFIDENCE."

"Strategic indecision" was the genteel way to put it. The real word was mutiny.

Three days earlier, he'd stood before the same boardroom where he'd unveiled secrets that rewritten biology textbooks. Today, he'd deliver the same message to a sleek mahogany table and twelve board members: no.

No to a lucrative military contract for pathogen delivery systems. No to building up the cosmetics division. No to the quarterly strategy they'd built to fatten short-term returns.

He'd pitched his pivot: the Kane Foundation for Global Sustenance, a grand vision for mass-scale humanitarian efforts, starting with a pilot in Kenya. He'd watched faces he'd made rich go from bewilderment to incredulity to glacial anger.

His largest investor and board ringleader, Julian Sterling, had been the driving force behind the movement. "You'd like to squander our capital on. charity?" he'd snarled. "We're a publicly traded company. We have a fiduciary duty to stockholders, not the globe."

Adrian fought to articulate: scalable biotech, drought-tolerant crops, gene-coded drugs at affordable prices. His words, usually precise, sounded awkward. How could he put the System into words? The countdown? Neural cascade failure as a possibility? Tell them and they'd have him institutionalized.

So he'd told them, bluntly, "The direction is non-negotiable."

The response was immediate.

His intercom beeped—Maya's voice tense. "Dr. Kane, Mr. Sterling is on line one. Again. He says it's urgent.".

"Blow it off," Adrian snarled. He had not slept.

"He's not the only one. The SEC filed a preliminary complaint regarding abrupt shifts of capital. Three of the major outlets have pieces on 'Kane's Mysterious Meltdown.'" Maya hesitated. "And the land acquisition team in Mombasa—our local contact went silent. Permits are in limbo. Someone greased his palm."

Cold fury brewed in Adrian's gut. This was sabotage. Sterling was applying pressure to sandbag the project before it even began.

A system warning cut through the chaos.

SIDE QUEST AVAILABLE: 'THE VIPER IN THE BOARDROOM'

OBJECTIVE: NEUTRALIZE PRIMARY CORPORATE ENEMY. SECURE PROJECT FUNDING.

REWARD: $500,000,000 IN UNTRACEABLE CRYPTOCURRENCY. 'POLITICAL INFLUENCE' MODULE (TIER 1).

PENALTY FOR FAILURE: INCREASED CORPORATE HOSTILITY. 30-DAY PROJECT DELAY.

The System was ruthlessly ironic: asking him to save the world and turning him into a corporate berserker. The reward was a lifeline—half a billion, traceless. The Political Influence Module was exactly what he needed to unstuck permits. But the language was astringent and mechanical. "Neutralize." Not negotiate, not persuade. The System was testing his morality.

Sterling's line flashed once more. Adrian answered and switched the call to the speaker.

"Adrian."

"Adrian. Finally, I suppose you've had a chance to see the news." Sterling oiled his voice. "All of this can stop. Today."

"Your offer?" Adrian's voice was flat, eyes following the System prompt.

"A press conference. You admit strain. You take a medical leave. The board appoints an interim CEO. We put this. philanthropic fever dream on hold. We reassert shareholder value. The stock recovers."

Adrian kept pace with the principal mission countdown. 729 Days, 14:11:59. Sterling's charge was a gilded cage: repair trivial things for the wealthy while the clock inexorably ticked away.

"And if I refuse?"

Sterling lost the illusion. "Then we push you out. An emergency shareholders' vote. The stock drops, and rumors are spread about your sanity. We prevail. You are left with a name on some patents and a public humiliation."

The threat was close. If they voted him out his funds could be tied up in lawsuits. He'd be unable to fund Mombasa. He'd fail his initial mission. The phrase NEURAL CASCADE FAILURE pounded in his mind like ice in synapses.

He was trapped. To save the world he had to first save his firm. To save his firm he may have to kill the man trying to kill him.

On a secondary monitor a live feed showed demonstrators in the building plaza—a climate protest. Their faces, young and furious, reminded him of Elena Marquez, the humanitarian journalist whose scathing pieces he’d once read. What would she think if she knew what he was bargaining for?

He couldn’t play Sterling’s game. He had to change the rules.

“You’re right, Julian,” Adrian said, remarkably calm.

“I usually am,” Sterling replied, triumph creeping in.

"The stock is falling because of confidence, not ability. We build confidence by showing strength—by showing unbreakable commitment."

"What are you—

"I'm backing up what I'm saying." Adrian's hands flew across the keyboard. He gave orders to men like he did not usually. "As of today, I'm personally purchasing twenty million additional shares of Kane Genomics."

Silence. "You can't. That would mean selling—"

"I have the money." The System ran a preapproval, drawing on capital from a source that felt unknowable and dangerous. It was an enormous, ego-grabbing gamble.

"Crazy. The SEC will—"

"Let them look," Adrian growled. "While they're looking, they can look for the shell corporations you used to short our stock this morning. The Caymans ones."

Sterling's breathing thinned. Adrian was on top because a secret file had appeared on his drive the moment he'd accepted the mission.

OBJECTIVE 1: 'NEUTRALIZE PRIMARY CORPORATE ANTAGONIST' — STATUS: COMPLETE.

"How did you—" Sterling gasped for air.

"I see everything, Julian." The truth tasted like metal. Adrian hung up.

He felt sullied. He had just extorted a man and become, for the first time in years, the corporate shark he loathed. But the Mombasa deal was safe—for a while.

REWARD TRANSFERRED. $500,000,000 (XRP) DEPOSITED TO OFFSHORE WALLET. 'POLITICAL INFLUENCE' MODULE ACTIVATED.

A stylized handshake symbol groaned open rosters of Kenyan officials, influence networks, prices. Permits would be loosened by lunchtime.

He had gained: secured funding, overcome a threat, taken one step toward saving his company to save humanity. But looking out into the city, the void came back, but deeper this time. The System hadn't just tolerated corporate war; it had rewarded him for it. The mission was everything; cost didn't matter.

The countdown remained in its relentless advance. 729 Days, 13:59:01.

He had weathered the crisis. He was afraid of the man it was making him into.