The Useless Son-in-law Who Became A Crypto Genius

Millions In Just A Week

1:58 AM.

Bytegold: $70.

Neo's fingers hovered over the keyboard. His heart hammered.

'Come on. Come on.'

1:59 AM.

The article dropped. He watched it spread across forums, social media, trading channels.

"Bytegold Security Flaw Discovered - Major Vulnerability Exposed"

Complete bullshit. The article would be debunked within the hour. But for now—

Panic.

The price started dropping.

$68.

$65.

$60.

Neo waited. Forced himself to wait.

$55.

$52.

$49.

"Bingo!"

He executed.

Bought $500,000 worth of Bytegold at $49 per coin. About 10,204 coins added to his stash.

The transaction confirmed. His hands were shaking.

'Did I time it right? Did I—'

2:08 AM.

The correction started.

$52.

$58.

$65.

By 2:30 AM, Bytegold was back to $70.

Neo's $500,000 investment was now worth $714,000.

$214,000 profit in half an hour.

He laughed. Couldn't help it. A sharp, slightly manic sound that echoed in the empty motel room.

'Holy shit. Holy shit, it worked.'

–––––––––––

By morning, SilverChain hit $0.09.

Seventy-two hours almost up.

Neo didn't sleep. Couldn't. Just watched the numbers climb.

$0.10.

$0.11.

At 9:47 AM—exactly seventy-two hours after his initial purchase—SilverChain peaked at $0.12.

His 833,000 coins were now worth $99,960.

Call it an even hundred grand.

From an initial $25,000 investment.

Neo sold. The entire position. Converted to stablecoins immediately.

Then he pulled up his TerraCoin profits. His Bytegold dip profits. Combined everything.

Total liquid assets: just over $1 million.

'One million dollars. In three days.'

His first life, he'd barely scraped together two hundred grand in savings over years.

Now?

Now he had millions.

And he was just getting started.

Neo pulled up his main trading account. The one with the real money. The 120,012 Bytegold coins.

'Time for the big play.'

He opened a decentralized exchange—one of the new ones, the kind without KYC requirements or government oversight. The kind where you could leverage trade with insane multipliers.

Ten-to-one leverage. Every dollar controlled ten dollars worth of assets.

He moved $500,000 from his ghost wallets. Converted to stablecoins. Loaded it into the DEX.

With ten-to-one leverage, that gave him five million dollars in buying power.

'All in on Bytegold. Right before the historic surge.'

In his first life, he had predicted Bytegold would hit $200 within the week. A nearly three-hundred-percent gain.

If he timed this right—

Neo placed the order. Market buy. Five million dollars worth of Bytegold.

The transaction processed.

His position: 71,428 coins at $70 average.

If Bytegold hit $200, those coins would be worth $14,285,600.

Minus his $500,000 initial investment.

Net profit: $13,785,600.

'Thirteen million dollars. From a week of trading.'

Neo leaned back. His hands were actually trembling.

But the numbers didn't lie. The leverage was working. The foreknowledge was working.

Everything was working.

He just had to wait four more days.

–––––––––––

Four days later, Bytegold hit $198.

Close enough.

Neo closed his position. Converted everything to stablecoins. The kind that couldn't be traced, couldn't be seized, couldn't be touched by anyone.

Final count: $14,127,440.

Fourteen million dollars.

He stared at the number. It didn't feel real.

In his first life, he would've been ecstatic. Would've cried. Would've thought he'd made it.

Now?

Now it was just the beginning.

'Phase two complete. Now for phase three.'

–––––––––––

Neo searched for office spaces. Not apartments. Not houses. Offices.

He needed a base of operations. Somewhere legitimate-looking but anonymous. Somewhere he could work without drawing attention.

He found it in the financial district. A towering building full of shell companies, tax havens, and businesses that existed only on paper.

Perfect camouflage.

The listing was for a small office on the forty-third floor. "Discrete, professional, month-to-month lease available."

Neo called using a burner phone.

"I'm interested in the space on forty-three."

The property manager—bored voice, clearly used to weird clients—barely asked questions.

"Name for the lease?"

"Phoenix Consulting LLC." A shell company Neo had set up an hour ago. Registered in Delaware. Owned by another shell company. Which was owned by a trust. Which was managed by a law firm that specialized in not asking questions.

"Down payment is first and last month. Three thousand total."

"I'll wire it today."

"Great. You can pick up the keys tomorrow."

That easy.

No background check. No references. Just money changing hands.

Exactly what Neo needed.

The office was small. One room, maybe two hundred square feet. A desk, a chair, a window overlooking the city.

Perfect.

Neo moved in with just his laptop and a duffel bag of equipment. Burner phones. External hard drives. A small server he'd built himself.

He set up in the corner. Away from the window. Camera angles calculated so nobody could see his screens from outside.

Then he got to work.

The Carver residence already had security cameras. Neo had hacked them a week ago. But that wasn't enough.

He needed more. Needed to see everything. Every room. Every conversation. Every move they made.

He pulled up the Carver estate blueprints. Found them in public records—building permits from a renovation five years ago.

'Seven bedrooms. Four bathrooms. Living room, kitchen, study, library.'

Most of the rooms already had cameras. But not all.

Neo started writing code. Custom monitoring software that would integrate with existing cameras, add new feeds from devices he could plant, record everything, analyze patterns.

A digital panopticon.

His fingers flew across the keyboard. The code took shape—elegant, efficient, invisible.

He built in redundancies. Backup systems. Automatic uploads to encrypted cloud storage.

If the Carvers found one camera, ten more would still be watching.

By midnight, the first version was complete.

Neo tested it. Pulled up the live feeds.

There—the living room. Cassandra reading. Douglas watching TV.

Mark's room. Empty. He was out, probably still trying to trace the missing coins.

Alina's room—

Neo paused.

She was on her phone. Typing something. Face illuminated by the screen glow.

He zoomed in. Enhanced the image.

She was texting someone.

"We need to talk. About the insurance money. And about what happens next."

The recipient: Mark.

Neo's jaw tightened.

'Already planning how to split the payout. Didn't even wait for the body to get cold.'

He saved the conversation. Added it to his growing evidence file.

'Keep talking. Keep planning. I'm recording everything.'