California, a military prison.
Click, click, click.
The rhythmic sound of high heels echoed on the concrete floor, carrying far in the empty space.
Finally, the heels stopped in front of a luxurious prison cell door.
"Bartholomew, you have a visitor."
The cell door opened, and in walked a middle-aged woman, probably in her forties or fifties. She looked sharp, capable, and carried an air of authority.
Bartholomew's face lit up with shock when she saw her.
"Chairman Genevieve, what are you doing here?"
"When you get into trouble, of course I have to show up."
Genevieve wore a faint, approachable smile.
But Bartholomew knew just how terrifying Genevieve could be behind that expression.
"Tell me, how did this happen? Do you know how furious I was when I heard about this in San Francisco?"
Under Genevieve's commanding presence, the usually assertive Bartholomew shrank like a quail, stammering nervously.
---
"Chairman Genevieve, here's what happened! I was following your orders to keep an eye on the Layton couple's canyon project, but not long after, there was an accident…"
Bartholomew quickly recounted the events. When she finished, Genevieve's face darkened, her expression turning grim.
"I didn't expect it to turn out like this!"
"Chairman Genevieve, can you get me out of here?"
Bartholomew looked at Genevieve with hopeful eyes, desperate to hear what she wanted. But reality dealt her a harsh blow.
"You're not getting out anytime soon. Frank Hammer has evidence against you, and he's already submitted it to the Pentagon. Just stay put in this prison for a few months. Once the heat dies down, I'll find a way to get you out."
Bartholomew was disappointed but could accept the outcome. At least her life was safe.
"I understand, Chairman Genevieve. I'll keep my mouth shut."
Genevieve nodded, satisfied.
"Then use this time to reflect and lay low."
With that, Genevieve turned and left the cell.
Click, click, click. As she walked away from Bartholomew's cell, her expression darkened again.
"Bartholomew's outlived her usefulness. Let her end things… gracefully."
Her aide responded immediately.
"Understood!"
Then, Genevieve muttered to herself.
"Sorry, Bartholomew. The Genesis Project can't afford any slip-ups. This is the only way."
That night, Bartholomew was struggling to fall asleep in her cell. At her age, sleep was always elusive, often taking a long time to come.
The cell door opened silently, and a figure slipped inside.
Sensing something, Bartholomew opened her eyes—just as a cloth was wrapped tightly around her neck.
She struggled desperately, but as a woman in her fifties, she was no match for her assailant.
Soon, her struggles weakened, and she stopped breathing altogether.
The figure removed the cloth, hung it on the cell door, and slipped Bartholomew's head through it.
After staging the scene, they locked the cell door and vanished from the military prison.
The next day, Bartholomew's body was discovered by a guard. Despite clear strangulation marks, the coroner ruled her death a suicide.
Roy didn't hear the news until a few days later.
"Damn it! I underestimated Amatech's guts. They had the nerve to pull this off right before a military tribunal!"
In the manager's office at the Dolphin Hotel, Gerald slammed his fist on the desk.
If Bartholomew had made it to the tribunal, they could've dug up more dirt on Amatech. But now, she'd died in a military prison.
A suicide?
It was like rubbing the Pentagon's face in the dirt!
Sitting across from Gerald, Roy wasn't all that surprised. Maybe because, coming from the future, he'd heard too many jokes about people "committing suicide" with ten bullet wounds in their back.
"Is the Pentagon just gonna let this slide?"
"No way! Even the most patient generals at the Pentagon won't stand for this. I've got inside info: the White House is about to slap Amatech with a fine close to ten billion dollars. This'll peel a layer off them. Mr. Black, if you're interested, you could short Amatech's stock. The news won't break until the day after tomorrow!"
Roy's eyes lit up. Gerald was a solid guy, sharing such valuable intel.
A fine that massive would tank Amatech's stock price, making shorting it a sure bet.
But Gerald's move was classic Americana. How else did all those stock market wizards on Capitol Hill get so rich?
Inside information, that's how.
"Mr. Olin, thanks for the tip."
Roy didn't have experience shorting stocks himself, and none of the women around him did either. Fortunately, he'd recently recruited Katherine.
Katherine had years of experience as a top corporate executive. Even if she didn't know the stock market, she'd likely know reliable professionals who could handle the short for Roy.
"Too bad we couldn't take Amatech down for good. Once they recover, they'll cause more trouble."
Gerald sighed.
"What, a ten-billion-dollar fine isn't enough to cripple them?"
Roy looked at Gerald curiously.
"It's not that simple! If I know Amatech is facing a massive fine, don't you think their iron lady, Genevieve Aristide, does too? All she needs to do is take the company's liquid assets, add some leverage, and short her own company. When the stock plummets, she can buy it back at a lower price, weather the storm, and maybe even turn a profit!"
Roy's face lit up with realization.
No wonder finance was so lucrative with insider info—it was hard to lose.
As for stock market oversight? That was a joke. Exchanges could openly roll back trades or "pull the plug" if they wanted. Fairness was just a punchline.
The only winner in a casino is the house.
"Mr. Olin, if Amatech wants to stir up more trouble, let them. I'd like to see how many of their execs are willing to 'commit suicide.'"
This incident was a blatant warning. No one at the top was stupid. Even if Bartholomew's autopsy said "suicide," no one would buy it.
The logic was simple: execs would think twice before making moves, lest they end up "suicided" like Bartholomew.
Gerald nodded.
"You've got a point. Even if Genevieve Aristide wants revenge, I doubt anyone would be crazy enough to go along with her."
"I'm not even sure she'll hold onto her chairman position after this."
Roy and Gerald exchanged a knowing smile, no longer taking Amatech seriously.
"By the way, Mr. Olin, I'm heading back to Texas tomorrow."
"Leaving so soon? Why not stick around a bit longer?"
With Roy in L.A., Gerald felt at ease. No matter what came up, Roy could handle it.
"Nah, folks back home are nagging me to return, and school's starting soon. Gotta prep some stuff."
Truth was, Lilith was the one pushing Roy to come back. She was desperate to get a new body.
With school starting in a week, Roy needed to sort out the body issue during the summer break. Once classes began, it'd be a long wait.
Gerald chuckled.
"Ha! Every time we talk, I forget you're still a student."
"Mr. Olin, say goodbye to Saltana for me."
"Why not tell Rivera yourself?"
Roy shrugged helplessly.
"Saltana's been avoiding me lately. Won't even pick up my calls."
Roy's stamina was just too much for her. On her own, Saltana couldn't keep up, and with no teammates in L.A. to share the load, she needed a full day to recover after each "battle."
All that downtime burned through her vacation days.
So, Saltana went into hiding to avoid another "defeat CG" from Roy.
Gerald gave Roy a thumbs-up. That kind of physical prowess was every guy's dream.
"I'll pass it along."
After wrapping up with Gerald, Roy left the office and called Katherine, explaining his plan to short Amatech.
At first, Katherine was skeptical. Amatech was a global giant with stable stock prices. Shorting it would require massive capital.
Unless a black swan event hit, no one would bother.
But a black swan was indeed coming.
When Roy shared his intel, Katherine got it immediately and said she'd team up with Penny to handle the short.
Katherine hadn't climbed the corporate ladder on looks but on skill and sharp instincts.
Honestly, her face was average at best, even in her youth. She'd risen purely on talent.
Roy was pleased with her decision to bring Penny on board.
With work sorted, Roy tracked down Melanie.
"Roy, you're heading back to Texas tomorrow?"
Melanie's face was full of disappointment. She'd been so happy spending time with Roy these past few days and hated to see him go.
They'd officially become a couple, though the conservative Melanie hadn't let Roy cross the final line yet.
But Roy was confident he'd win her over fully by the end of the year.
Melanie was growing less resistant to physical closeness. At first, even a kiss made her blush, but now she was fine with hugs, kisses, and light touching.
And that progress was in just a few days!
Hitting a home run was only a matter of time.
"Why the long face? Don't forget, we'll see each other again in a week at the latest."
Melanie brightened up.
"You're right! I almost forgot what day it is!"
They say love makes women silly, and Melanie was showing signs of it, losing her scholarly edge.
"Just wait for me in L.A. I'll be back for you in September."
"Mm!"
Melanie rested her head on Roy's solid chest, greedily breathing in his scent.
She wouldn't get to smell it for the next week, so she had to get her fill now.
Her puppy-like sniffing made Roy laugh.
"If you like my scent that much, I can take off my shirt for you to smell."
Melanie instantly pulled back, blushing.
She knew exactly what "taking off his shirt" implied. She wasn't ready for that yet and needed more time to prepare mentally.
"Roy, when you get back, don't forget to reply to my MSN messages!"
"I won't."
The next day, Roy stood in the L.A. suburbs, preparing to return to Falls Town. This time, he'd try his new ability: psychic teleportation, aiming for Sawyer Manor.
Over the past few days in L.A., Roy had practiced teleportation. Short-range, line-of-sight jumps were easy, and he'd even tested mid-range teleports across half the city with minimal error.
Now, it was time to try a long-distance, cross-state teleport.
Long-distance teleportation was definitely trickier, but mastering it would be a game-changer. It'd save him from exhausting long trips and free up a ton of time.
"Focus. Picture Sawyer Manor's location…"
Line-of-sight teleportation was simple—just see the spot and go.
But out-of-sight teleportation required imagining the destination or having spatial coordinates.
The farther the distance, the more critical coordinates were, since imagination alone wasn't always precise.
Unfortunately, Roy wasn't a wizard and hadn't systematically studied how to establish coordinates. He had to rely on mental imagery.
This meant he could only teleport to places he'd been. Without a mental image, he'd have no idea where he'd end up.
"Psychic teleport!"
A red glow flashed around Roy's body, and he vanished.
The next second, he appeared on a somewhat familiar highway, nearly getting hit by a big rig that barely braked in time.
"Are you trying to die? Why'd you pop up in the middle of the road?!"
Truck drivers weren't known for their patience, especially when Roy almost caused a crash.
What the driver didn't know was that he was the one who'd have been in trouble. With Roy's current physical condition, a collision would likely wreck the truck, not him.
Still, it was Roy's mistake, so he apologized.
"Sorry, I got a bit dizzy."
The driver grumbled and drove off, leaving Roy to scan his surroundings.
"This looks about ten miles from Falls Town. Didn't expect the error to be that big for a long-distance jump."
Still, it saved him a thousand-mile trip. A ten-mile error was acceptable.
"Should've hitched a ride with that truck. Guess I'll have to call Claudia to pick me up."
Still Melanie.