Chapter 1
On the day of the bell-ringing ceremony for my wife's company's IPO, I wired 15 billion dollars straight into her account.
When I got to the venue, a guy with gold-rimmed glasses stopped me at the entrance. "Who are you?" he asked.
"Braiden Armstrong, Reyna Goodwin's husband," I replied.
He looked me up and down, his gaze lingering on my faded polo shirt, then gave me a polite, practiced smile. "Mr. Armstrong, your seat is in the last row. Please follow me."
I didn't move and asked, "The last row?"
He pushed his glasses up, keeping his tone polite but clearly distant. "All the seats up front are reserved for investors and industry leaders.
"Reyna said you could just find a seat wherever you like. After all, this isn't really your area of expertise."
Reyna? He actually called my wife "Reyna."
I glanced at the first three rows. Everyone was suited up, and every seat had a fancy nameplate.
The last row? Not even a single nameplate.
I pulled out my phone and texted Reyna: [So I'm stuck in the last row?]
Ten seconds later, she shot back: [Don't make a scene. Just listen to me.]
******
I called her.
Reyna picked up, her voice hurried, with someone in the background calling out, "Ms. Goodwin."
She said first, "Braiden, this is a big event. Don't make me look bad. Just stay quiet in the back, and after the bell rings, I'll take you out for dinner."
"I wired you 15 billion dollars," I answered.
"I know, thanks for that," Reyna replied, pausing for a moment. "But today, the relationships in the public eye matter more.
"I'm having you sit in the back for your own sake, so you won't get grilled about your job and not know what to say."
"Not know what to say?" I shot back.
Reyna sighed and lowered her voice. "Can you really tell people who you are? What if you scare them?
"You never liked being flashy anyway. I'm busy. If you don't want to stay, just go."
With that, she hung up.
The secretary was still standing there, smiling politely. "Mr. Armstrong, this way to the back row."
"What's your name?" I asked.
"Korbin Dalton, Ms. Goodwin's chief assistant," he replied.
"Chief assistant," I repeated. "Since when does she have a chief assistant?"
Korbin didn't answer, just stepped aside, motioning me forward.
I checked my watch. 9:45. The bell-ringing ceremony was set to start at 10.
I walked to the last row, sat down, and pulled out my phone to make a call. "Joey, reverse the 15 billion dollars I wired to Reynia Group's account this morning."
There was a brief silence on the other end.
"Mr. Armstrong, all of it?" Joey asked.
"Not a single dollar left," I replied.
"Got it. It'll be back in your account in five minutes," Joey replied.
I hung up and leaned back in my seat.
Up front, Reyna was shaking hands and making small talk with a few investors.
She wore a crisp white suit dress, stood tall in four-inch heels, her makeup flawless and her smile poised.
Three years ago, when she first started out, Reyna was wearing a fifteen-dollar T-shirt from a street stall, couldn't raise a single dollar, and was so anxious she broke down crying in front of me.
I told her I'd invest.
Reyna said, "You spend your days gardening and raising fish. Where would you get that kind of money?"
Then I wired her 30 million dollars. She sat there in shock for three whole minutes.
After that, whenever she needed a supply chain, I made it happen.
If she needed new channels, I sorted it out with one phone call. When she needed official support, I made sure the path was clear.
Over the past three years, I'd dumped almost 25 billion dollars into Reynia Group.
All the money went through personal transfers, not a single fund or company name attached.
So to everyone at Reynia Group, Reyna was a business prodigy who built everything from scratch.
No one had a clue who her husband was. And no one had any idea who was really backing her.
Up front, I spotted a vice president from Sawyer Group's office, a partner from Radiance Media, and two other guys I couldn't name but who definitely knew me.
If any of them turned around, things would get interesting. But nobody bothered to look back.
Because the last row wasn't worth a second glance.
At 9:50, the lights dimmed, and the big screen kicked off with Reynia Group's promo.
I watched for thirty seconds, then looked away.
I didn't show up in the video. The founder's story didn't mention me.
And my name wasn't anywhere on the list of investors they thanked. Not even a simple "thanks to my family" anywhere on screen.
At 9:55, my phone buzzed.
Joey texted: [Funds fully withdrawn. Reynia Group's account now has just 1,074,000 dollars left.]
After I pulled out 15 billion dollars, there was just a little over one million dollars left.