Chapter 298: World Server Crashing

Chapter 298: Chapter 298: World Server Crashing

Within hours of Aliya Rivers publishing her Swiss vlog, the digital architecture of the global financial and media markets experienced something akin to a localized seismic event.

The revelation that the anonymous, ultra-exclusive buyer of the $100 million Bugatti La Voiture Noire was none other than Jake Rivers shattered every remaining illusion about the boundaries of modern wealth. Across the capitals of the West and the sprawling tech-hubs of the East, traditional media syndicates, algorithmic trading desks, and late-night talk shows ground their regular programming to a halt.

In the United States, CNN and Bloomberg ran wall-to-wall special segments analyzing the liquidity of the twenty-three-year-old Valorian phenomenon.

"To put this into perspective," a senior financial analyst on Wall Street remarked, adjusting his glasses as a massive graphic of Jake’s net worth glowed behind him. "Less than twelve months ago, Jake Rivers was an ordinary university student navigating standard undergraduate expenses. He started with a modest personal portfolio, established Golden Investments, inherited an initial baseline asset pool of roughly one billion dollars, and through a series of surgical, high-stakes market maneuvers has scaled that portfolio to a staggering, verified forty billion dollars."

The anchor blinked in disbelief. "And crucially, ladies and gentlemen, this was accomplished entirely outside the traditional shadow or capital injection of the Rivers family dynasty. This is pure, unadulterated, self-made business acumen on a scale the world has not witnessed in a generation."

On a prime-time panel across another major US news network, five commentators shouted over one another, pointing at a high-definition freeze-frame of Jake Rivers casually sitting in VIP Box Six.

"Look at the numbers!" one veteran Wall Street analyst yelled, slapping his palm against the desk. "A hundred million dollars on a single Bugatti in Switzerland! Then he turns around, short-squeezes the Newman Group for billions, and yesterday drops five hundred and twenty million dollars on sovereign islands! Where is this kid keeping his cash?!"

"The scariest part isn’t even the liquidity," another anchor chimed in, leaning forward. "It’s his age! He’s twenty-three years old! He scaled his portfolio from nearly a billion dollars to nearly forty billion dollars entirely on his own in less than a year. He didn’t ask the Rivers family for a single dime!"

"That’s not just business acumen," a third commentator added, shaking his head in disbelief. "That’s an apex predator operating completely unbothered by traditional market rules."

---

Meanwhile, across the Atlantic in a quiet estate outside Geneva, the atmosphere was dead silent.

An elderly Swiss billionaire—one of Europe’s most revered classic car collectors—sat in his mahogany-paneled library, staring blankly at his tablet screen. For the entire week, ever since the Grace Heritage Invitational, he had been obsessively tracking down leads on the anonymous buyer of Lot 15. He had assembled a consortium of private backers, ready to throw two hundred, even three hundred million dollars at the owner to buy the Bugatti La Voiture Noire back.

He replayed the clip of Jake’s single jump to a hundred million dollars. That staggering, calculated bid had completely demoralized everyone on the floor. Back then, the old billionaire had only brought exactly one hundred million dollars in liquidity with him to the auction just for the car, never expecting someone to bypass all bidding tiers and jump straight to his absolute limit in a single stroke.

The old man slowly set his crystal glass down, letting out a hollow, bitter laugh.

"Three hundred million..." he muttered to himself, rubbing his tired eyes. "I was going to offer him three hundred million... to a man who makes billions in a single morning and buys islands for half a billion dollars."

He picked up his phone, dialed his financial manager, and spoke in a flat, defeated voice. "Cancel the search for Lot 15. Disband the consortium."

"Sir? Did you find out who owns it?" the manager asked over the line.

"Yes," the billionaire replied, looking at Jake’s unfazed expression on the screen. "And we don’t have anything that could possibly interest him."

---

Back in Veyra, the domestic reaction was pure, unadulterated madness.

The morning rush hour on Veyra’s transit line was already loud, but by nine o’clock, the usual drone of sleepy commuters had completely dissolved into a crackle of electric disbelief. Inside the packed, swaying carriages of the downtown subway, nobody was looking at the floor or staring blankly at the doors anymore. Every single screen—from high-end smartphones to cracked budget displays—was locked on the exact same viral video.

"Are you kidding me right out loud?" a guy in a charcoal business suit blurted out, his head snapping up from his phone as he stared across the aisle at a couple of university students. "Did you guys see the new breaking news on Jake Rivers?!"

One of the students looked up, scrolling lazily. "You mean about the Meridian Gallery auction? It’s been wall-to-wall on the morning feeds since dawn. Five hundred million for islands, right?"

The businessman barked out a sudden, sharp laugh, waving his hand dismissively. "Man, you are way behind the times. I’m talking about Aurelia Capitals’ secret trip to Geneva."

Across the aisle, a woman leaning against the steel partition frowned, her interest instantly hooked. "Geneva? What happened over there?"

"Jake’s sister just dropped her vlog," the businessman grinned, holding up his phone screen like a trophy. "The guy literally spent a hundred million dollars on a single car!"

A stunned silence rippled through the immediate section of the car before someone near the doors scoffed. "A hundred million? You gotta be messing with me. No car on earth costs nine figures."

"I am dead serious, man. Look at the exchange receipts right here!" The businessman shoved the screen forward, letting them see the verified timestamp and the crushing camera angle of VIP Box Six.

A collective intake of breath swept through the crowd as heads crowded in.

"Crap..." the skeptic whispered, his jaw going slack. "He actually dropped a hundred million cash on a single set of wheels?"

A construction worker standing by the center pole let out a roaring laugh, slapping his hardhat against his thigh. "That’s how we do it here! Foreign billionaires think they can fly into Veyra and throw their weight around with old-money portfolios, but Jake Rivers just walks onto their European turf and flexes so hard their entire auction house stops breathing!"

---

Social media comment sections under domestic news outlets were flooded with hundreds of thousands of replies:

> @Veyra_Trader_99: "Jake Rivers really went to Europe, bought a car for 100M USD, came back home, destroyed the Newmans and bought two islands for 520 million. Absolute GOAT."

> @Finance_Bro_Local: "Imagine being 23 and having a net worth close to 40 billion dollars without taking a single penny from your family name. Darius Rivers must be sweating right now."

>@Truth_Reigns: "You guys are acting like he didn’t inherit 9 billion marks from his grandfather."

>@Finance_Bro_Local: "Are you saying you could’ve done it if it was you? Quit your negativity and acknowledge greatness."

> @Uni_Student_Veyra: "He’s literally holding up our entire economy on his back. Protect this man at all costs! ??????"

---

Back at Veyra Technological Institute, the morning sun filtered through the blinds of Dorm 412, casting long, warm stripes across the small room where Tracy, Zoe, and Maya were gathered. They had just finished talking about the chaos of the Meridian Gallery Gala and the unforgettable night Jake had saved Maya from Harold Trunk, when Tracy’s phone buzzed with fresh breaking global news notifications.

"Wait, guys, listen to this—there’s more news about Jake," Tracy said, her eyes widening as she scrolled through her feed.

"What is it this time?" Zoe asked, looking up from her desk with an exhausted sigh. "We haven’t even finished digesting the news about him buying those islands yesterday."

Tracy stared at her screen with her mouth hanging open. "Forty... billion... dollars," Tracy read aloud, her voice cracking slightly. She turned her head slowly toward Maya. "Maya... he’s worth nearly forty billion dollars now."

Zoe immediately scrambled to check her own tablet, her fingers flying across the screen. "Wait, hold on a second. Wasn’t Jake pushing thirty billion marks around a month back? How is forty billion even possible when Golden Investments isn’t even a publicly listed company?!"

Maya sat on the edge of her desk, her heart pounding with a mixture of intense pride and manic, unstoppable excitement. She had already known Jake was special—she had traded off his signals, seen him step out of that VIP elevator, and felt his hand gently wipe a tear from her cheek. But seeing the entire global media sphere bow down before his name sent a shiver of pure thrill straight down her spine.

He’s worth nearly forty billion dollars, Maya thought, her fingers tightening around her mug. And he wiped my tears, protected me from Trunk, and gave me his personal word that I would be his guest at the next event.

"Maya, hello? Earth to Maya!" Tracy waved a hand in front of her face, grinning mischievously. "You’re drooling again. Are you thinking about the fact that you gave him your personal phone number last night?"

Maya snapped out of her trance, a brilliant, radiant smile breaking across her face. "I’m just saying... my ticket was the best investment of my life."

Zoe snorted, tossing a pen at her. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Just don’t forget us little people when you’re flying around on private jets!"

"I’d never forget you guys," Maya giggled, leaning back in her chair.

---

High above the bustling city, inside the Zenith penthouse, the morning light poured in as Jake and Catharine prepared for their departure.

The coffee table was cleared, save for a pair of sleek travel bags and a tablet displaying live flight telemetry. Catharine stood by the mirror, adjusting a lightweight, cream-colored linen blazer over her travel outfit, looking back with a soft, amused smile as Jake tapped the final authorization keys on his terminal.

"Well," Catharine chuckled lightly, walking over to him and handing him his aviator sunglasses. "It appears your little sister has officially broken the internet. CNN is calling you a forty-billion-dollar-man, and half the financial world is having an existential crisis."

Jake took the glasses, slipping them into his pocket with a faint, dry smirk. "Aliya has always had a flair for dramatic timing. Though I suppose hiding a hundred-million-dollar hypercar purchase forever was a logistical impossibility."

"Are you ready?" Catharine asked, linking her arm through his as they walked toward the private elevator. "Your new islands are waiting, and I expect a proper, fully guided tour of your private paradise."

Jake’s dark eyes softened with a warm, affectionate glint. "Consider it done. We’re officially out of office until Monday."

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