The Invisible Trillionaire: God-Tier Investment System

Chapter 2: The Eight-Minute Race

The cold rain felt like needles, but it was the chemical foam that really burned. 

It clung to my hair and seeped into the cuts on my fingers.

I didn't care. I didn't even feel my lungs burning as I sprinted down the sidewalk.

My phone vibrated against my thigh—a rhythmic, mocking pulse.

[TIME REMAINING: 07:42]

Seven minutes.

Seven minutes before Marcus, that bloated leech in a lab coat, pulled the plug on the only person I had left in this world. 

I reached the curb and threw my hand out, desperate. A yellow cab was idling at the light, the driver looking at me through the glass with a mixture of disgust and fear.

I probably looked like a madman—a drenched, foam-covered beggar in a ruined tuxedo vest and a torn silk tie.

"I need to get to Sanctum Heights!" I screamed over the roar of the rain, slapping the window with my bleeding palm. "Double the fare! Triple it!"

The driver didn't even unlock the door. He just shook his head and rolled up the window, his eyes cold. "Get lost, junkie. Go find a shelter."

He floored it. The splash from his tires soaked my shins in gutter water.

I stood there for a heartbeat, my rage boiling in my gut until it tasted like copper. I pulled out the cracked phone. The golden interface was still there, shimmering through the raindrops on the screen.

‘Investment Opportunity Detected,’ the System whispered. ‘Asset: City-Link Taxi Services. Current Valuation: $12 Million. Cost to override dispatch: $50. Cost to own the fleet: $15 Million.’

I didn't hesitate for even a second.

[TRANSACTION COMPLETE.]

[YOU ARE NOW THE MAJORITY SHAREHOLDER OF CITY-LINK.]

In a second, every taxi on the block screeched to a halt. Their hazard lights flashed in synchronized amber lights. 

The driver who had just splashed me slammed on his brakes so hard he nearly fishtailed into a pole.

His radio crackled, a voice screaming through the speakers that I could hear from the sidewalk.

 "Unit 402! Pick up the man in the white vest! If he isn't at Sanctum Heights in five minutes, you're fired! Everyone is fired!”

The driver’s face went white. He scrambled out of the car, ignoring the rain, and threw the back door open for me. "Sir! I—I didn't know! Please, get in!"

I didn't say a word. I dove into the back seat. "Drive. If you hit a red light, don't stop."

The car moved before I had even closed the door. We tore through the city and I stared at the clock on my screen.

03:15.

My heart was hammering against my ribs. I could see it in my mind: the sterile, white room at Sanctum Heights. The rhythmic hiss of the ventilator. 

And Marcus, standing there with his fat fingers on the switch, checking his watch while Clyde’s donation hit his private account.

"Faster," I growled.

"I’m doing eighty, sir! The tires are slipping!"

"Then make them grip!" I snapped.

We swerved into the hospital bay, the tires screaming against the wet asphalt. I was out of the car before it fully stopped, throwing a handful of soaked hundred-dollar bills at the dashboard without waiting for the change.

I sprinted through the sliding glass doors. The lobby was quiet, smelling of floor wax and death.

"Sir! You can't come in here looking like—" a nurse started, but I blew past her, my sneakers leaving wet, foamy tracks on the spotless floor.

I hit the elevator buttons. Nothing was working and I had to be on the fourth floor.

I took the stairs three at a time. My legs felt like they were made of lead, my lungs screaming for air.

The chemical foam was dripping into my eyes, blurring my vision, but the System gave me a path—a glowing golden trail leading up the stairwell.

00:58.

I burst through the door of the VVIP wing. My breathing was ragged, a harsh sound in the quiet hallway. At the end of the hall, through the glass window of Room 402, my heart clenched when I saw him.

Marcus!

He was leaning against the wall, a clipboard in one hand and the other resting casually on the power console of the oxygen tank. He looked bored, like a man waiting for a bus instead of waiting for a life to end.

I hit the door so hard the glass rattled in the frame.

"Don't touch it!" I screamed, my voice raw and desperate.

Marcus jumped, his small eyes widening as he took in my state. I was covered in grime, smelling of freon and rain. 

A slow, greasy smirk spread across his face when he recognized me. "Well, if it isn't the disgraced CFO. You’re late, Matt. The insurance company sent the denial notice an hour ago. We need the bed for a paying patient. Clyde was very specific about the timing."

"I have the money," I panted, my hand shaking as I reached into my pocket.

"You have foam on your face and a hole in your shoe," Marcus scoffed. He turned back to the console, his thumb hovering over the toggle. "I’m doing her a favor, really. This kind of life? It’s just an expensive way to die."

00:12.

"I said don't touch it!"

I lunged forward, slamming a black card onto the desk in front of him. It wasn't a normal credit card. It was matte black, heavy, with a single gold eclipse embossed in the center.

"Run the card, Marcus. Now!"

"Matt, don't be pathetic. This isn't a—"

He swiped it anyway, just to mock me. He wanted to see the Declined message. He wanted to see the light go out in my eyes before he turned it out in Lilly's.

The machine didn't beep. It chimed instead. A low, melodic sound that seemed to vibrate through the entire floor.

The screen didn't show a balance. It just flashed a single word in bold, emerald letters: UNLIMITED.

Marcus froze. The color drained from his jowls until he looked like a slab of raw dough. Behind him, a printer began to hum, spitting out a receipt that kept going... and going... and going.

"What... what is this?" he stammered, his hand falling away from the oxygen valve.

"That's the next ten years of this hospital’s operating budget, paid in full," I whispered, stepping into his personal space. I could smell the stale coffee on his breath. "And that?" I pointed to his shaking hand. "That’s the hand that’s going to sign your resignation letter."

I pushed past him, my heart finally slowing as I reached the bed.

Lilly looked so small. Her skin was pale, almost translucent, but the steady hiss-click of the machine continued. 

She was still breathing.

I sank into the plastic chair beside her and took her hand. It was cold, but it was there.

"I'm here, Lilly," I whispered. "I've got the world. And nobody is ever turning out the lights again."

My phone pings in my pocket.

[HOSPITAL ACQUIRED: SANCTUM HEIGHTS]

[NEW DIRECTIVE: CLEAN HOUSE.]

I looked up at Marcus, who was still staring at the Unlimited screen in a trance.

"Get out," I said. "You're fired. And Marcus? Don't bother checking your bank account. I just bought the bank, too."