"The New York branch is $700M—it's in Manhattan, prime location, still performing well. Miami is $600M, benefiting from tourism and the Latin American market. Vegas is $400M—smaller but steady due to casino proximity and convention traffic. So the whole chain is currently worth $2.27 billion."

I nodded, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. The numbers were adding up beautifully. When's the auction?

"Two weeks from today. And I believe by then, if I trade aggressively, we won't even need to touch much of the $1B Charlotte brought from her treasury or your secret funds. The markets are favorable, and I've identified several high-probability plays that could net us another $200-300M by auction day."

"Actually," I thought, "I plan to use that $1B. When that woman tries to find investors for the other branches after I buy the LA property, I'll be right there to pour money into it. Silent partner at first, then majority stakeholder once she realizes she needs me more than I need her."

"I anticipated that, Master," ARIA replied, and I sensed a flicker of digital approval. "But I assumed you would hesitate to deploy Charlotte's capital so soon. You haven't even liquidated the $800 million in gold you appropriated from the Vultures. That alone would cover the LA purchase and its renovations."

I stiffened, my fingers pausing on the steering wheel. "What are you talking about? I thought that gold was the secret funds."

A memory surfaced, sharp and clear. The original plan was to give the gold to Ava Voss as part of our CIA arrangement with the other billions. But in the heat of the moment, amidst the chaos of claiming my spoils, I'd taken it. Along with the seven billion in cryptocurrency.

The gold had been separated, stored, and mentally filed away as "secret funds," but I'd completely forgotten its origin and sheer scale.

That night, after my talk with the Appreciation Society in the taxi, I'd gone back for the gold. All of it.

One hundred and twenty bars of pure gold, each weighing 400 troy ounces, stored in a warehouse whose location Marcus Webb had revealed under duress when we hacked his phone. How did I do it? Ask Soo-Jin. That woman had skills that made Ocean's Eleven look like amateur hour.

She'd coordinated the logistics, knew a moving crew who didn't ask questions, and moved everything in three hours while the Vultures were still dealing with police and media fallout.

Now the gold was hidden away in a secure facility in Koreatown, here in LA. The moving and everything had been simple when you were stealing from oblivious, overconfident motherfuckers who thought they were untouchable.

"No, Master," ARIA corrected patiently. "The secret funds I was referring to are the SP. Which is 370,000 now. After the 200,000 gift from the orgy mission and the 51,000 SP from the orgy itself, plus the previous balance of 119,000, we're at 370,000 SP... which is $37M."

I nearly laughed out loud. "ARIA, seriously? How can you think of that little money when we're talking about hundreds of millions?

Would you look at that. I'd made $37M from sex with my women.

Who's to stop me from spending it all on them, huh? That money came from pleasure, from liberation, from giving women what they desperately needed. It seemed only right to spend it back on them.

"Yes, that's true," ARIA began, "but that money can be used—"

"No, ARIA," I cut her off. "Create a different account for that money in Liberation Holdings. When I exchange the SP to dollars and save it there. We'll only use it for simple things—the penthouse, buying memberships when needed like at the OnlyCeleb club, or when my women need anything urgently. Small luxuries, personal touches. You also add the $819,524,000 with the $1B from Charlotte's treasury."

After I'd bought into Quantum Tech for Liberation Holdings with $4B from the original $4.9B that Charlotte had in her company treasury, I'd used $80M for yesterday's shopping spree—the most ridiculous, excessive, absolutely justified shopping trip in human history. Now there was $819,524,000 in free capital sitting there, waiting.

That was some insane money. That's why I hadn't held back during shopping, and why I was cocky enough to start this other plan. When you had nearly a billion dollars in liquid assets, you could afford to be aggressive.

For the rest of the remaining $3B from Charlotte's treasury—that was earmarked for buying and funding my inventions as planned. The neural interface, the quantum processors, the biotech applications. Once we started selling those and they took over the market, there'd be plenty more to add.

Trillions, eventually.

"Understood, Master," ARIA replied. "I'll set up the separate account structure. The SP conversion money will be designated for personal and lifestyle expenses only. All business operations will draw from the main Liberation Holdings accounts."

Perfect.

"Peter?" Isabella's voice pulled me back to reality.

I blinked, realizing I'd been completely zoned out during my conversation with ARIA.

"You okay?" she asked, concern touching her features. "You've been quiet for like five minutes. Just... staring at the road."

"Yeah, sorry. Was talking with ARIA. Business stuff."

"The hotel thing?"

"You heard that?" I glanced at her, surprised.

"Some of your muttering. Before I fell asleep." She smiled softly. "You're really going after Sterling, aren't you?"

"Absolutely. He disrespected my mother. No one gets away with that."

"Good." Her hand found mine on the gear shift. "He deserves it. I'll help any way I can."

It was only then I noticed she had fallen asleep against my shoulder during my monologue. Her head rested warmly on me, her breathing deep and even. She had grown bored with my silent conversation and drifted off, her body trusting mine completely.

I eased off the accelerator, smoothing the AMG One's aggressive pace. The car, a rolling sculpture that growled like a caged beast, had been drawing stares anyway. Now, I drove for her comfort, one hand on the wheel, her warmth a steady pressure against my side.

The sun light washed over her sleeping face, tracing her features in gold and shadow. Even in sleep, she was breathtaking. Her dark hair fanned across my shoulder, her lips slightly parted, one hand curled trustingly against my chest.

This—this precise moment—was the entire point. The money, the power, the empire—it was all just infrastructure. The real treasure was this: the weight of my woman sleeping peacefully against me, safe and cherished, as I drove us into our future.

Everything else was background noise.

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