I Inherited Trillions, Now What?

Chapter 84 First Day At The New Work

Alexander stood at his desk, his mind drifting aimlessly since his meeting with the WHO executives. Their words echoed in his head, particularly hers: "Don't expect history to remember a man like you."

The words had been circling his mind for a while now. Who was he, really? He was Alexander Blackwell, the second head of the Blackwell fortune. But that was the problem—he was the second head.

His father had been a pioneer of his generation. As long as Blackwell Investments thrived, his name would be etched into history alongside the likes of John D. Rockefeller Sr., Mayer Amschel Rothschild, and other financial titans. He would be exalted as a visionary.

But what about him? The second head? Do people remember John D. Rockefeller Jr.? Or the Rothschild heirs, who, despite amassing even greater wealth than their father, remained overshadowed? Their names weren't spoken with the same reverence as the men who started it all.

Yes, there were rare exceptions—J.P. Morgan being the perfect example. His father, Junius Spencer Morgan, had laid the foundation for their banking empire, but it wasn't until J.P. took over that the Morgan dynasty truly became a force. He was remembered. He was feared.

But that would be difficult.

His father—the first head of the Blackwell fortune—was no Junius Spencer Morgan, who had merely built a successful bank and passed on, unaware of what his son would do with that legacy. No, his father had achieved something far greater. And even Alexander, despite his confidence, couldn't say with certainty that he could replicate that feat.

"It's easier to turn a million into a hundred million than to turn a dollar into a hundred thousand."

That was the reality of what his father had done. He had taken nothing and built Blackwell Investments into the empire it was today. And while Alexander knew his own capabilities, he wasn't foolish enough to believe he could accomplish the same from scratch. His father was a true genius

He on the other hand was a product yes, a product of years of tutoring, planning, and design. He had been programmed to use what he had to get what he wanted—and much more. But if their roles had been reversed, if he had been the one to start from nothing, would he have been able to build what his father had? He wasn't sure. Just as he believed his father's humble beginnings had limited his vision of what true power could be.

His father had been fixated on money. He had prioritized it above all else, a decision that made sense in the short term but, in Alexander's eyes, was a grave miscalculation.

Because it wasn't money that ran the world.

It was power.

But he had to give it to him seeing as power could only be obtained through money. And luckily for him, he already had the wealth. He had the mindset. He had the will.

And he would use it to secure the ultimate level of power.

Thinking more of his sudden wanting of recognition. something he found weird as

He had never particularly cared for recognition. He preferred to work behind the scenes, pulling strings while the world focused elsewhere. But that had to change. His father who was at the forefront of all things Blackwell was gone, leaving the worlds focus all on him but more than that, Right now he wanted the world to know who he was. What he was capable of.

He wasn't blind to the power of anonymity. The most elite families had disappeared into the shadows for a reason—they understood the advantage of operating unseen.

The world's power structure wasn't maintained by those in the spotlight, but by those hidden in the dark.

In walked a woman, dressed in a sharp business suit, her gaze shifting toward her boss. He was so absorbed in the papers before him, the intensity of his focus piquing her curiosity. What could be so important?

Despite her intrigue, she cleared her throat, a silent acknowledgment that with him, some things were better left undisturbed. After a brief pause, she spoke, her voice steady, "Sir, all the preparations have been made regarding the Blackwell matter."

Nathaniel Rockerfeller, the man chosen to be the next generational head of his fabled family, paused at the mention of the Blackwell matter. His eyes slowly lifted from the documents, the importance of what she had said quickly overshadowing whatever he'd been focusing on.

After all she was talking about him. The one person Nathaniel couldn't stand—the person who had outmaneuvered him at every turn since they'd met years ago in Switzerland. The one person who always seemed to come out on top.

A frown twisted his face as memories flooded his mind: their first encounter in school, the auction, the recent dealings.

He should have been celebrating; he'd secured a treasured asset his family had been chasing for years. Yet, the victory felt hollow. The billions he'd lost in the Nvidia deal lingered like a bitter aftertaste.

He fixed his gaze on her, his expression hardening. "Good," he said, his voice low. "Make sure it to tell them to make it seem controversial."

She nodded, though the confusion still lingered in her eyes. Unsure, she voiced her doubts. "Sir, but how can this bring down the Blackwells? I'm just confused."

Nathaniel smiled, the amusement clear in his eyes, there wasn't a hint of anger in his tone. His lips curled with the ghost of laughter as he responded, "You really don't know the power they hold, do you?"

Her confusion deepened, and he took a moment before explaining, his voice tinged with a quiet satisfaction. "There's a reason why, despite not having as much money or power as us, the elite families always befriend them and never anger them—why they choose to invite them into our fold."

He paused, watching her closely, enjoying the intensity of her gaze as she tried to process what he was saying. "It's because, in a way, they hold more influence than even us."

A laugh escaped him, louder this time, as if the absurdity of the situation amused him more than he cared to admit. "Don't worry," he said, still laughing, his eyes gleaming with certainty. "When this is over, the Blackwells will be nothing but a shell of their former selves—just another family that couldn't withstand the test of time."

His expression shifted, his smile turning to a cold grin as his tone dropped lower. "And even if that doesn't work, don't worry. Something else is already in motion. Something guaranteed to have ruined many great men."

His eyes sharpened, a predatory glint taking over as he waited eagerly for the inevitable.

While all of this unfolded, with both men plotting their respective courses toward their preferred outcomes, a woman stood at the edge of the New York harbor. Excitement bubbled within her, her anticipation almost palpable. She had reached the location of her new job, and the thrill of it all had her heart racing. Stepping out of the cab, she looked around, taking in the sights with wide eyes, her energy unmistakable.

She truly was oblivious, to the type of world she was stepping into.

Hey everyone, I'm really sorry for sending this chapter so late. Work has been hectic, and I apologize for the delay. I also want to take this moment to address something that I know might upset some of you—the decision not to go with the hidden route. I understand the importance of it, but personally, I've never been a fan of that trope. I stand by my decision, but I promise to give it justice in other ways as we move forward.

Also, a huge thank you to Jbp2k24 for the golden ticket! I truly appreciate it, and it means a lot.

If you'd like to support me, donations in the form of power stones, golden tickets, and gifts are always welcome. They really help me out. Thank you so much, and I hope you all have a great day!