World's Richest Man: I Leaped Across Time

"To Orlando?" I asked. "Why not. But you'll need to give me the address."

"I'm going there today, so I was thinking maybe I could take you with us. You don't need to drive yourself. It would also be way more trouble because they would need to verify you."

"Alright," I agreed, "but you'll need to give me some time."

"How about 8 a.m.?"

"Sure, I'll make it."

"Well then... you have a room at Jennings Hall, right?"

"Yes."

"Be ready at 8 a.m. We'll be there punctually."

"Absolutely. See you then."

I got up and looked through my wardrobe.

One pair of business casual clothes wasn't going to cut it. There were never enough nice-looking shirts.

I decided to go shopping.

I picked up some nice beige cotton chinos and a white shirt.

On the way back, I bought a bagel since I didn't know when I would get to eat lunch.

After getting back to the dorm room, I checked my brokerage account.

[AMERITRADE]

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[Total Balance: $1,581,243.86]

[Available Balance: $2.36]

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[Market Value of Holdings: $1,581,247.50]

[Margin: $6.00]

[Buying Power: $4.72]

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Portfolio:

[NetEase Inc ($NTES)] [$6.91] {[ 10 shares ]}

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Recent Transactions:

[Options Buy: NTES Call Option ($18), Cost: $0.31, Value: $2.68, Quantity: 114,275]

[Options Buy: NTES Call Option ($16), Cost: $0.26, Value: $2.92, Quantity: 169,000]

[Options Buy: NTES Call Option ($12), Cost: $0.23, Value: $4.18, Quantity: 72,230]

[Options Buy: NTES Call Option ($10), Cost $0.16, Value: $6.48, Quantity: 74,000]

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I needed around $15,000 to pay off the office and pay Derek Johnson.

I went ahead and sold some of the $10 calls.

In the end, I would sell the obtained shares at a similar price of probably around $20. That's why selling the ones that gave me the highest return at the moment was the most optimal.

I sold 2,315 calls at $6.48 each, totaling $15,001.20. This means I would lose out on around $30,000 in the end. But If I had sold $15,000 worth of the $18 calls, I would have lost out on over $120,000 instead.

I needed the money, but selling those calls hurt.

I thought about the taxes I would need to pay on the gifts I planned to send to the account under Christopher Vanderbilt. I needed to be very smart about it if I didn't want to lose a massive chunk of the money.

The lifetime gift tax exemption in 2002 was $1,000,000, and the non-taxable annual amount was $11,000. This meant that anything above $1,011,000 would be taxable.

Anything over $1,511,000 would be taxed as much as 50%.

Taxes on gifts were introduced in the early 20th century to prevent the formation of family dynasties that could end up ruling the country just because they were rich, not because they did anything meaningful.

But I had a little special idea brewing in my mind that would help me avoid paying such high taxes.

What if instead of gifting money, I "lost" it?

What if I lost it to immortal investments?

The capital gains taxes I'd owe at the end of the year would instead be paid by Immortal Investments.

This way, I could dodge any extra taxes.

'I will need to write another letter to Derec,' I thought.

I made sure to log out of the brokerage account. I needed to be more careful about this.

I took a shower, changed into my new clothes, and headed out to wait for Sam.

I knew they'd come for me in a black Mercedes-Benz S-Class limousine, and sure enough, exactly at 8 a.m., it slowly drove into the parking lot.

The chauffeur got out of the limousine and leaned against the car with one hand on the roof, his dark short hair slightly messy, his face round, and his chubbiness filling out his black suit.

"Jack Somnus?" he asked me with a chearful smile.

"Yes."

He pointed to the right backseat door. "Sit in the back."

I walked up and swung the door open.

The inside was plush, with creamy leather seats. There were bottles of water in a small cabinet between the two comfy seats.

Sam was sitting on the other side.

"Morning," he said, without turning his head in my direction.

"Morning, Sam," I answered as I slid into the seat, feeling the soft leather.

The legroom was impressive. There was enough space to stretch them out almost fully.

A second later, the limousine smoothly pulled away from the curb.

I looked over at the chauffeur swinging the wheel. His name was Richard, or, as Sam usually called him, Ricky; he was more of a friend to Sam than an employee.

"Can I have some water?" I asked.

"Of course," Sam nodded. "Feel comfortable."

At that moment, Ricky glanced back at me and my stretched-out legs. "This guy's feeling a bit too comfortable," he said with a chuckle before turning his attention back to the road. "Usually, when Sam invites someone, they sit like they've got a stick up their ass. But you look like a fish in the water."

'That's because I have driven this car a hundred times before,' I thought.

As the limousine cruised along the road, Sam briefed me on what he wanted to show me during the visit to the Orlando branch. I would be allowed to tour their trading setup and speak with one of their top-performing traders.

What he wouldn't tell me was that he was the man in charge of this branch. He was looking for promising talents to join the company, and this visit was partly an opportunity to assess me.

The branch had been given to him as an 18th birthday gift from his father, Arnold Johnson.

His father gave it to him to see what results Sam would bring and to test if he had the potential to succeed as a leader despite his disability.

The topic of Sam's blindness was a very delicate one. Even so, I asked about it at our first meeting because it's very natural to ask, and Sam could easily tell if someone had ill intentions in doing so.

The truth was that Sam wasn't blind from birth.

At the age of 14, he was poisoned with methanol, which brought him close to death and led to the destruction of his optic nerve.