American Medicine God: Starting by Inheriting a Pharmaceutical Company and Selling Medicine

November 11, 1983. New York Stock Exchange (NYSE).

9:28 AM.

Beneath the dome of the trading floor, it seemed as if the noise of the entire world had gathered. Thousands of traders in colorful vests jostled, roared, and waved their trading orders in the narrow aisles.

Victor stood on the second-floor bell-ringing balcony.

He was wearing a dark blue suit, and his face wore a confident yet humble smile that he had practiced countless times.

Beside him were Katie, Saul, and old Jack.

Katie, dressed in a Chanel suit, was so nervous she kept taking deep breaths. Saul, on the other hand, was flushed with excitement.

"Two minutes left," the NYSE chairman glanced at his watch and said to Victor, "Mr. Corleone, are you ready?"

"Always be prepared," Victor replied.

His gaze pierced through the reinforced glass and landed on an electronic screen in the center of the trading hall.

The code displayed there is: VGT.

The current opening reference price is $18.00.

"You know what," Saul whispered in Victor's ear, "if it opens at $20, your net worth will be two hundred million dollars! Two hundred million! My God, we've made all the money we could in our lifetimes!"

"10... 9... 8..."

The clamor in the arena suddenly coalesced into a synchronized countdown. Thousands of eyes lifted, fixed on the young man on the balcony.

"3... 2... 1..."

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Victor pressed the button. A clear, resounding chime echoed through the vast hall.

The traders downstairs instantly erupted in wild roars.

The numbers on the electronic screen began to jump wildly.

$20.00

$22.50

$28.00

$35.00

In just five minutes, the stock price nearly doubled.

"Greenshoe! Activate the greenshoe option!" underwriter Peter roared on the phone. "Demand is overwhelming! We need to add another 15% of stock!"

As Victor watched the ever-increasing red and green numbers, he felt as if time had slowed down.

This is the power of capital. It is bloodless and non-violent, yet it can create the most astonishing miracles in the world in an instant. It transforms people's desire for painkillers into the purest form of wealth.

Katie hugged Victor tightly, tears ruining her makeup. Saul stood nearby, wildly waving his fists.

Victor just smiled faintly.

......

One hour later.

The CNBC studio was located in a corner of the trading floor.

The spotlight shone on Victor's face, and it was a little dazzling.

The host was a beautiful blonde with blue eyes, and her eyes were full of admiration as she looked at Victor.

"Mr. Corleone, congratulations. VGT's performance today has been phenomenal. The closing price may break $45. This means that VGT's market capitalization will surpass that of many established pharmaceutical companies."

The host handed the microphone to Victor.

"Everyone is curious: as such a young CEO, what is the secret to your success? What enabled Wotech Pharmaceuticals to conquer the market in such a short time?"

Victor adjusted his posture. He looked at the camera with a deep and sincere gaze.

"It's actually very simple," Victor's voice echoed across America on television, "We haven't conquered the market. We're just serving humanity."

"In this fast-paced era, everyone is burdened with enormous pressure. Back pain, joint pain, postoperative pain... these are not just physical torments, they are eroding our lives and our dignity."

Victor paused for a moment.

"Some people say we're selling drugs. No, that's not accurate."

"We are selling freedom. The freedom for a father to hold his child. The freedom for a worker to continue working. The freedom for every ordinary person to break free from the shackles of suffering."

He smiled at the camera—three parts compassion, seven parts confidence.

"Because I understand better than anyone else that pain is humanity's most loyal friend, and I am its mediator."

...

New Jersey. Hank Schrader's home.

The living room was a complete mess.

Hank sat on the sofa, clutching a bottle of beer tightly in his hand. Victor's face was smiling on the television screen.

"I am its mediator..."

"Fuck you, mediator!" Hank suddenly roared, smashing the bottle against the television.

*Bang!*

The bottle hit the screen and shattered. The television flickered a few times, and the picture became distorted and static.

"Hank?" Mary ran out of the kitchen in alarm. "What happened?"

Hank was breathing heavily, his chest heaving violently. His eyes were bloodshot.

"He's lying, Mary. He's lying."

"I know who he is. I know what he did. That so-called 'freedom' is poison. He's poisoning the whole of America."

"But he's legal now," Mary whispered. "He's a billionaire, Hank. We can't beat him."

Hank slumped back onto the sofa, looking dejected.

Yes. He can't win. They're not even in the same league anymore!

Unfortunately, that's reality.

Reality is never a fairy tale.