The office was quiet in the late evening, a rare silence after the day's chaotic energy.James leaned back in the worn leather chair, staring at the glowing city skyline through the window. He had just finished signing a mountain of paperwork when the soft knock came at the door.
"Come in," he called.
The door creaked open and Lillian stepped inside, carrying two mugs of coffee.
"You look like you could use this," she said, setting a mug on the desk.
James gave her a tired but grateful smile. "You're a lifesaver."
Lillian pulled up a chair across from him and sat down, wrapping her hands around her mug.
For a long moment, they just sat there, letting the moment breathe.
Then Lillian leaned forward, her voice low but steady. "I've been busy the last few days too, you know."
James raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
She smiled faintly. "I set up Aurora Capital."
James blinked. "Already?"
She nodded. "Private investment partnership. Filed the LLC paperwork in Delaware, opened the brokerage account through Merrill Lynch, got everything cleared."
He whistled, impressed despite himself. "You don't waste time."
"You needed it," she said simply.
She pulled a folder from her bag and slid it across the desk. James opened it — inside were the official documents: ChronoEdge Analytics, LLC
stamped and sealed, brokerage account details, legal structures, everything neat and official.
"Structure's simple," Lillian explained. "You own one hundred percent. Total control. Right now, it's just your own $200,000 seeded into the fund."
James nodded slowly, flipping through the documents.
"Later," she continued, "if you want to bring in outside investors—friends, rich contacts—you can. But right now? It's clean. Private. Fast. No SEC registration headaches. No compliance vultures breathing down your neck."
James smiled. "You thought of everything."
She smiled back, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.
"This gives you a lot of freedom," she said. "But also... no excuses. No protection."
James set the folder down carefully.
"I know," he said. "No turning back."
Lillian hesitated, then leaned forward, voice dropping to almost a whisper.
"James," she said, "if you lose this money... Double Click is going to have a hole in the budget. A big one. You'll have to take outside investments just to stay alive."
Her words hung in the air between them, heavy and real.
"You could lose control," she said. "You could lose everything you built."
James looked her straight in the eyes, calm as a still lake.
"I won't lose," he said.
"You can't control the market," Lillian said, almost pleading.
"No," James agreed. "But I can control my moves."
He stood, picking up the folder and tucking it under his arm.He walked around the desk and hugged her, brief but strong.
"Thank you, Lillian," he said quietly. "Really."
She hugged him back fiercely.
"Be careful," she whispered.
"I will," he promised.
They parted without another word.James left the office, the papers tucked under his arm, his suit jacket thrown over his shoulder.
Outside, the San Francisco night air was cool and crisp.He climbed into his car, an old silver BMW he bought secondhand last year, and drove through the sleepy streets.
His parents' house wasn't far — a cozy colonial in the Sunset District, near the park.James liked coming here late at night. Something about the place calmed him, reminded him of simpler times.
As he drove, his mind raced.
Tomorrow was the day.Netscape's IPO.
The event everyone in Silicon Valley was whispering about, shouting about, dreaming about.
If it exploded like he believed it would, it would light up the stock market — open a door for fortunes to be made almost overnight.
If it flopped...
James pushed the thought aside.No room for doubt now.
He thought about Double Click — the buzz in the office, the rows of cold-callers dialing, the engineers building AdNova line by line.He thought about the money already spent — servers, salaries, rent, contracts — and how fragile it all still was.
He couldn't afford to fail.
Not just for himself.For all the people who had jumped aboard his "spaceship" too.
James pulled into his parents' driveway and sat there for a moment, engine idling.
He stared at the stars overhead, barely visible through the light-polluted sky.
A private investment fund.A startup company burning through cash.A once-in-a-lifetime market opportunity.
No safety nets. No backup plans.
Just raw guts and belief.
He smiled slightly.He'd always been a dreamer.Now he was betting everything that his dreams were worth something.
He killed the engine and grabbed the folder from the passenger seat.
Time to get a little sleep — tomorrow, the real game began.
Inside, the house smelled like warm bread and cinnamon.
His mother had left a note on the kitchen counter:
James — there's soup on the stove. Sleep well, love you.
He smiled, touched in a way he didn't often admit.No matter how old he got, no matter how high he climbed, some things stayed simple.
He ate quickly, savoring the warmth, then headed upstairs to his old bedroom.
The posters of old rock bands were still on the walls. His worn-out desk, his old books, even the scratch marks from years of tossing footballs indoors — all still there.
He set the Aurora Capital folder carefully on the desk and changed into sweats.
Lying in bed, he stared at the ceiling in the dark.
Tomorrow morning, he would drive to Merrill Lynch's downtown branch.He would sit at a trading desk, or maybe just hover nervously nearby, as the Netscape IPO went live.
It would be chaos — share prices moving like wildfire, fortunes made and lost in seconds.
He could almost feel the energy already — electric, dangerous, irresistible.
James turned on his side, closing his eyes.
$200,000.It was all the liquidity he had.Every other penny was tied up in Double Click.
He knew the risks.He could lose half in one stupid move.
But he also knew the opportunity.
If he played it right, if he was bold enough, smart enough —He could turn $200,000 into $1 million.Maybe even more.
Enough to inject fresh capital into DoubleClick.Enough to expand the sales force, the tech team, the whole damn company.
Enough to stay in control — to own the future he had envisioned from the beginning.
He thought about Lillian's worried eyes, about Chris's warning calls, about Marcus's fast-talking pitches.
He thought about the engineers working late nights.
He thought about the world that was coming — a world where the Internet wasn't just a tool but a kingdom, and where the first kings were being crowned right now.
James smiled to himself in the dark.
Tomorrow, he would move.
Tomorrow, he would stake his claim.
No going back.
No regrets.