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

The Ghost And The Scoop (I)

He scrolled through recent threads. Most of it was noise—people bragging, people panicking, people posting memes about coins that had just crashed.

But buried in the noise...

There.

A thread about upcoming market movements. Posted by someone with the username OracleEye. Their track record was insane—fifteen predictions in the last month, fourteen of them accurate.

Neo clicked it open.

"SilverChain will pump 300% within 72 hours. TerraCoin follows 24 hours later. Source: private beta access to exchange listing announcements."

Neo's pulse quickened.

He remembered this. In his first life, SilverChain was said to exploded out of proportion. He'd watched it grow, too scared to buy in, convinced he'd somehow lose money on a sure thing.

TerraCoin had followed right after. Another massive pump that had minted overnight millionaires.

'This is it. This is the starting capital I need.'

He checked the current prices.

SilverChain: $0.03

TerraCoin: $0.12

Both dirt cheap unlike bytegold. Both about to explode.

Neo pulled up his main trading platform—not the ghost wallets, but a semi-legitimate account he could actually use without raising flags. He'd seeded it with a small amount from one of the ghost wallets, laundered through enough mixing services to be clean.

Balance: $50,000.

A tiny fraction of his real wealth, but enough to play with.

His finger hovered over the buy button.

'Do it. You know this works. You've seen it happen.'

He bought.

$25,000 into SilverChain at $0.03. That gave him... he did the math... roughly 833,000 coins.

If OracleEye was right—and they usually were—those coins would be worth $2,499,000 in three days.

'Holy shit.'

The rest went into TerraCoin. $25,000 at $0.12. About 208,000 coins.

If the pattern held, that would triple too. Another $625,000.

Total potential profit: over three million dollars.

From a $50,000 investment.

In less than a week.

Neo's hands were shaking. Actually shaking.

'This is insane. This is absolutely insane.'

But the transactions were already processing. No taking it back now. Once he'd gotten his funds back, he would invest more on bytegold from the profit.

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He stood up, legs stiff from sitting too long. The motel room felt smaller suddenly. The walls pressing in.

He needed air. Needed to move. Needed to—

His stomach growled. Loud.

When was the last time he'd eaten? Yesterday? The day before?

'Probably should fix that.'

He grabbed his hoodie—a cheap thing from a thrift store, nothing like the clothes he used to wear. Nothing that would make him stand out.

The hoodie smelled like the motel. Like mildew and old cigarettes and desperation.

Perfect.

He pulled it on, yanked the hood up, checked himself in the cracked mirror.

Unrecognizable.

Just another nobody in a city full of nobodies.

'Exactly what I need to be.'

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The motel parking lot was mostly empty. A few cars, all of them old and beaten up. The kind of place where nobody asked questions because everyone had something to hide.

Neo's car—if you could call it that—sat in the corner. A rusted Honda Civic he'd bought cash from a guy who definitely didn't care about paperwork.

It looked like shit. Ran like shit. But it was anonymous, and that's all that mattered.

He climbed in. The seat creaked. The engine turned over on the third try, sputtering to life with a sound that would make any mechanic weep.

'Should probably get that looked at.'

But not yet. Not until the money cleared and he could afford to disappear properly.

He pulled out of the lot, onto streets that were empty this time of night. The city had a different feel after midnight—quieter, darker, honest in a way it never was during the day.

Neo drove without destination. Just... drove.

His mind wandered.

In his first life, this would've been the part where he panicked. Where the weight of what he'd done—faking his death, stealing money, planning revenge—would've crushed him.

But now?

Now he felt... free.

Like he'd been holding his breath for years and finally, finally let it out.

'They wanted me gone. Fine. I'm gone. But I'm taking everything with me.'

Neo's hands tightened on the steering wheel. The engine jerked, coughed, kept running. Barely.

The streets stretched empty ahead. Dark. Quiet except for the occasional hum of a late-night delivery truck.

He should've been exhausted. Should've been crashing from adrenaline. Instead, his mind buzzed, sharp and restless.

'Seventy-two hours until SilverChain pumps. Twenty-four until Mark makes his move. Somewhere in between—'

His phone buzzed.

Neo glanced at it. News alert.

"Police Close Investigation Into Bellvue Tragedy"

He clicked it open, scanning the article while stopped at a red light.

"Authorities have concluded their investigation into the robbery and subsequent death of Noam Ash. The case has been classified as a tragic incident with no outstanding suspects. The Carver family has expressed gratitude for the community's support during this difficult time."

Case closed.

Neo's lips curved.

'Perfect.'

The light turned green. He drove.

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Across town, in a cramped studio apartment that smelled like coffee and old takeout, Lyra Chen sat hunched over her laptop.

The screen glowed harsh white, illuminating stacks of papers, empty energy drink cans, and a half-eaten sandwich from yesterday. Or maybe the day before.

She didn't remember anymore.

Lyra rubbed her face, took another sip of cold coffee, grimaced.

'Disgusting.'

But she kept drinking.

On her screen: footage from Bellvue. The night of the robbery. Security camera angles she'd obtained through... let's call them creative channels.

She'd been covering the story for the past three days. Standard tragedy piece. Robbery gone wrong. Innocent man caught in crossfire. Grieving widow. The usual.

Except.

Except it didn't add up.

Lyra scrubbed through the footage again. Watched the masked men storm in. Watched them grab Noam Ash. Watched the chaos unfold.

She paused. Rewound. Watched again.

'There.'