The American Kill Line: I Can Predict the Future

The tables turned quickly.

Even if Ron was completely ignorant and knew very little about the financial industry, he understood what this series of numbers meant.

He retracted what he had just said and asked very sincerely:

"Victor, I've seriously considered the suggestion you made last time."

Victor paused for a moment, then quickly realized, "Ron, you mean...?"

Ron nodded. "Could you tell me more about this electric vehicle company? For example, its current valuation?"

"Of course." Victor couldn't figure out why Ron was suddenly interested in this company, but he still gave a truthful introduction.

"Tesla's current chairman is Elon Musk, who studied economics at the Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania. He's kind of my senior."

"He was a remarkable investor. He founded an online news content publishing software company in 95. Four years later, Compaq acquired the company for $3.07 million in cash and $3400 million in stock options. Elon was only 28 years old that year."

When Viktor mentioned this senior's experience, admiration flashed in his eyes:

"After that, Elon founded several more internet unicorn companies and achieved great success. Tesla is one of his key projects in recent years, and it is currently valued at $17 billion."

"That sounds legendary." Ron stroked his chin, but his mind was already racing.

In other words, the company's market value increased nearly sixfold in three years; nearly 30 times in seven years; and 60 times in ten years.

Ron didn't know what the future held, but one thing he was certain of:

In the United States, there are very few companies with a market value of over $100 billion, and they are all giants in their respective fields.

This company, whose name I've never even heard of, will be among them in the next decade.

It's truly legendary!

If you buy 10 million shares of this company now, they will be worth 600 million in ten years.

"I've made up my mind, I'm going to buy this company's stock, Victor, can you help me?"

The channels for subscribing to US stocks before listing are controlled by institutions and investment banks, making it almost impossible for individuals to subscribe.

Unless they are high-net-worth clients certified by investment banks.

Ron just happened to fit that requirement.

"I will apply to the company for you. Although Merrill Lynch is not an underwriter for Tesla, we still have a certain amount of subscription and distribution quota."

"Thanks! I've made a reservation on the top floor of the Standard Hotel tonight. Come over for a couple of drinks if you're free."

The Standard Hotel is a four-star hotel, and its rooftop bar is one of New York's most exclusive nightlife spots.

Those who frequented the place were all wealthy and influential celebrities.

World-renowned models, fashion moguls, Wall Street tycoons, and Hollywood stars often frequent this place.

It is also one of the most luxurious and prestigious entertainment districts in New York.

If it were Ron from last week, he wouldn't even qualify to enter.

But things are different now; he is a newly minted billionaire on Wall Street.

When he woke up in the morning, he had received more than one invitation from Standard.

The first thing to do when you have money is naturally to "have fun".

For three consecutive days, Ron and his good friend Robert frequented various top nightclubs.

In his youth, he was a well-known figure at McMullen, known as the "Lone Star Party Beast," the "Dance Floor Diesel," and the "Nightclub Motor."

McMullen's story still circulates to this day.

The blinding sunlight shone on the two-meter-wide bed, and the pretty woman nestled in Ron's arms.

He raised his hand and slapped her pert bottom: "My sweetheart, it's time for you to get up. Our love has reached its end."

He threw back the covers, got up, and lit a cigarette.

The woman said resentfully, "You're such a heartless cowboy."

Ron smiled, picked up the custom-made suit jacket from the ground, and took out his wallet from inside.

Then, he took out a gold card with supplementary credit: "I have some things to do this morning, so go buy whatever you like."

The woman in front of you is named Alexandra Daddario, and she is a young actress.

Ron couldn't remember whether he met her at the party in the first half of the night or at the bar in the second half.

All I remember is being drawn to the girl's eyes.

Amidst the noisy crowd, those deep blue eyes, like gems from the deep sea, gave Ron, who was half-drunk at the time, a sense of purity.

So Ron had a limited-term relationship with her.

The most direct impact of those three days in the world of fame and fortune on him was that beauty always comes with a price tag.

"What do you take me for?" Alexandra Daddario's expression changed.

Ron shrugged, glancing at the ripped underwear he'd left at the foot of the bed. "Sorry, I didn't mean anything by it. Consider it an apology for my roughness last night."

"Bitch!"

Alexandra Daddario blushed slightly and, in a fit of embarrassment and anger, threw a pillow at the man in front of her who had turned on her the moment he pulled up his pants.

"OK! Then get up quickly, have breakfast, and I'll go shopping with you. I also need to buy a dress for an event tomorrow."

Ron smiled and put the card away.

Then I turned around to wash up and ordered two breakfasts.

Even though it was already 10 a.m., the Peninsula Hotel still delivered two nutritious breakfasts.

Ron checked his personal account while eating.

Merrill Lynch's review and settlement process has finally concluded.

Ron left $10 million in his securities account and deposited the remaining $100 million or more into his private account at Bank of America.

He first paid off his own loan, then dialed old Hunter's number:

"Dad, send me your bank account details."

Old Hunter has been in a bad mood lately. His youngest son's divorce makes him feel that he made a mistake in agreeing to let his son go to New York.

He was too ashamed to even go to the pub, worried that his old friends would laugh at him.

When he received a call from his youngest son and heard him say this, old Hunter was taken aback.

Then, with a pained expression, she asked, "Are you still planning to come back?"

From the moment his youngest son stormed off in anger, old Hunter knew what he was about to do.

He didn't try to persuade him, because it was his son's shame that he had to wash away himself.

But when that day finally came, old Hunter was still very sad.

"I'm not going back for now." Ron turned on his phone's speakerphone and browsed his spending records from this period.

I didn't know until I looked, I've spent almost a million dollars in the last few days.

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone.

Just as Ron was wondering what was going on, old Hunter's sorrowful voice came from the other end of the phone:

"I know your situation. Don't worry about Nancy, I'll explain to her. You—take care of yourself."

Nancy is Ron's mother's name.

Ron paused for a moment, then smiled wryly. "Dad, you don't think I killed Megan and am planning to run away, do you?"

"Um?"

"I don't know how to explain it to you."

After washing up, Alexandra Daddario straddled Ron's lap with a small piece of sandwich in her hand and fed him a bite.

Ron explained to old Hunter as he ate:

"In fact, I did have this plan ten days ago, but things have changed a bit now..."

As they were talking, Alexandra had finished a small piece of sandwich and suddenly slipped her cold fingers inside Ron's pajamas.

Ron glared at her and quickly said into the phone, "Dad, all you need to know is that I'm doing fine and have no intention of running away. I'll explain the rest later."

"Alright, I'll wait for your explanation."

"Bye! Please tell Mom I'm sorry and tell her not to worry, I'm doing fine."

After hanging up the phone, Alexandra stood up with a grin, ready to slip away.

Ron grabbed her, scooped her up in his arms, and cursed angrily, "Damn it, you little slut, you asked for this!!"

The dining table was large; Alexandra's body didn't even take up half of it.

She clung to Ron tightly, pleading, "NO! I'm not full yet!"

"You'll be full soon."