Up on the elevated mahogany balcony, Victor Sterling took another slow, luxurious sip of vintage champagne.
He leaned forward against the polished brass railing, looking down at Lin Mo like an amused nobleman watching a stray dog wander into a banquet hall. The twelve hedge fund managers beside him were laughing heartily, pointing their gold pens at the glowing crimson numbers on the perimeter ticker wall.
“Look at him down there with his little mobile tablet,” Sterling sneered into his microphone, his voice dripping with venomous amusement. “He thinks typing on a laptop will stop five trillion dollars of Wall Street institutional selling! By noon, his subsidiary stock will trade for pennies, and his grand charity empire will be liquidated for scrap!”
Zhao Kai chuckled loudly, rubbing his clammy hands together with greasy enthusiasm.
“Mr. Sterling, when Lin Mo goes completely bankrupt, can I buy his sports car fleet for ten cents on the dollar?” Zhao Kai begged, grinning like a hyena. “I want to drive his gold-plated supercars right through downtown Jiangcheng! I want all my old friends to see that I am the true winner!”
“You can have his cars, his office furniture, and his shoes, young man,” Sterling laughed, waving his crystal glass dismissively. “When we crush an upstart, we take everything down to the copper wiring in the walls.”
