World's Richest Man: I Leaped Across Time

After a bit of playing, we finished packing and headed to the airport.

The flight to Lyon was a short one, just under an hour.

Upon arriving in Lyon, we picked up our luggage, rented another car and drove away. The drive to our hotel was smooth, with the beautiful Rhône River glimmering as we crossed over it.

The city had a charm that was distinctly French, yet it was quieter than Paris, with its blend of medieval and Renaissance architecture.

We checked into the Cour des Loges, a luxurious hotel in the heart of Vieux Lyon

Our suite was spacious, with tall windows that overlooked the streets below.

I decided it was time to make a call to my new man in Lyon, Philippe. He was a French national with a solid background in finance and business, but most importantly, he spoke English fluently.

I picked up the phone and dialed his number. The line rang twice before a confident sounding man answered.

"Bonjour, Philippe speaking," he said in a French accent.

"Bonjour, Philippe, it's Jack. How are you?"

"Ah, Jack! It's great to hear from you, Welcome to Lyon. I hope your flight was comfortable?"

"Yes, it was. Lyon is beautiful, even just from what I've seen on the drive from the airport. I wanted to arrange a meeting at the office to discuss our plans and get things moving."

"Of course," Philippe said. "How does tomorrow morning sound? Say, 10:00 AM?"

"Perfect," I agreed. "And Philippe, I'll need a quick overview of the current status when we meet."

"Certainly, I'll prepare everything you need. Our offices are on Rue de la République, a very central location. I'll send you the exact address by email. Looking forward to it, Jack."

"Same here, Philippe. See you tomorrow."

After hanging up, I turned to Charlotte, who was already unpacking some of her clothes. "I have a meeting set for tomorrow morning."

Charlotte smiled, pausing to look at me. "Good. Now, are we going to explore a bit before dinner? Maybe find a café or something?"

"Let's do that."

We spent the afternoon wandering around. Eventually, we stopped at a charming little bistro with outdoor seating, where we ordered a couple of croissants and café au lait.

We returned to the hotel, and I walked into the bathroom to freshen up, turning on the faucet and splashing some cool water on my face. After a quick shower, I started drying my hair.

"Baby!" I heard Charlotte's voice calling out from the bedroom.

I stepped out of the bathroom, still drying my hair with a towel. "What's up?"

Charlotte was sprawled out on the bed, a notebook in front of her. She'd been flipping through some stuff online, and now her eyes were wide.

"Did you see this article?" she asked, looking up at me.

I tossed the towel onto a nearby chair and walked over, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

She turned the screen towards me, and I leaned in to check it out.

The headline hit me right in the face: "Jack Somnus: The Man Who Started With Nothing and Made $150 Million in One Year."

"150 million?" I muttered. "Are they just guessing, or did someone sell them this information?"

Charlotte sat up, watching me closely. "Look, Jack." she moved her hand to the notebook and scrolled down. "They've got numbers, timelines, and even some stuff on your initial investments."

My mind was spinning. It was surprising how well the piece laid out my plays over the past year.

"How did they get all this?" I murmured.

While it mentioned that I had invested in different stocks, I noticed that it did not say anything about my first investment in USANA Health Sciences.

The first part of the report was about the money I invested in NetEase options.

Not only that, but they also skipped over my investments in Axon Enterprise and went straight to the Monster Beverage play I made.

"Someone has information on the trades I made on my AmeriTrade account..." I said.

"Is that bad?" Charlotte looked at me, concerned.

"I mean, not necessarily..." I said, slowly scraping my chin with my fingers. "The problem is figuring out who would want this information, why they'd want it, and how they managed to get it in the first place..."

"Do you think someone's keeping tabs on what you're doing?"

I sighed, "Well, I guess it's only natural that when you start influencing the market, people start paying attention. But still..."

"But your accounts are secure, right?"

"Well, clearly not secure enough.... There are always ways—loopholes, data leaks, insider connections."

"What are you going to do then?"

"I need to find out where the leak is coming from. If these guys are just curious, that's one thing. But I don't want people following my every move like this…"

...

After a good night's sleep, and a quick breakfast at the hotel, I left Charlotte to her own devices.

She was already making plans for the day. I think she wanted to check out some of Lyon's boutiques.

I had business to attend to.

I hopped into the sleek silver Mercedes-Benz we'd rented and made my way to the office of Immortal Investments' new European branch. The building was a flashy glass monolith, sticking out like a sore thumb among Lyon's more classic architecture.

As I walked through the lobby, I could feel eyes on me. Maybe it was the tailored suit...

A young receptionist, barely out of her teens, greeted me with wide eyes. "Monsieur, how can I assist you?" she asked, clearly a bit starstruck.

"I'm looking for Immortal Investment's offices." I replied, giving her a quick nod.

She pointed me to the elevators.

As I stepped out onto the top floor, Philippe was there, waiting. He looked sharp in his designer suit, but there was a slight sheen of sweat on his brow—nervous, maybe?

"Jack, welcome," Philippe said, extending his hand. His English was good, and the French accent actually made him sound even better.

"Philippe," I replied, shaking his hand. "I hope you've got everything in order."

"Of course," Philippe said, leading me to a large conference room with windows overlooking the city. The table was already set up with documents, and a laptop sat ready with a presentation.

But before we could get started, there was a knock on the door.

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