Chapter 278: Insanity of a Sixteen-years-old

I stood at the penthouse window, Miami’s lights spilling below like a preview of an empire I was about to build. Madison curled against my left side, Charlotte leaning into my right, and I couldn’t stop thinking how utterly fucking insane this all was.

To most people, hearing about Liberation Holdings would sound like a kid with delusions bigger than his brain could handle. Another teenager who binged Succession one too many times and thought he could build an empire with wishful thinking and his parents’ credit cards.

But they didn’t know what I was holding.

Literally.

Madison Torres — heiress to Torres Development Group. One day she’d inherit an empire that owned half of California’s prime real estate. Not exaggerating. Not metaphor. Literally half the valuable commercial and residential property from San Francisco to San Diego. Number one real estate empire in the U.S. Worth over $300 billion.

And I had the ability to increase that by fifty percent in five years. Not hers yet, but hers in the future.

What would Torres Development look like with a 50% bigger portfolio? What would Madison become as the sole inheritor of a West Coast empire that controlled more land than most states could dream of? Not just rich — she’d be one of the most powerful women alive outside politics.

Then there was Charlotte, pressing against my other side. Quantum Tech: $8 billion publicly, $4 billion hidden in emergency reserves even the IRS didn’t know about. Twelve billion total under her control.

But that wasn’t even the point.

The point was that with my tech skills and vision, once we moved into the new estate and started pushing products, I’d increase Quantum Tech’s value by 10% from the first three innovations alone. Just the appetizer. What would a month bring? A year? And don’t forget — I get a cut of everything. Every product, every license, every subscription — a slice flows right back to me.

Then there’s ARIA, working the trading floor like a digital demon. Seed money already turned into $10.3 million, probably printing another million while I just stood there thinking about power.

And my SP balance from liberating women. Engagement party encounters, Amanda, cuckolding Harold, Lust Mode three-way before I sacrificed that power — I was sitting on 109,820 SP.

Which was...

$10,982,000. Nine women. Barely three weeks.

Three weeks ago, I was a virgin worth zero, getting thrown in trash cans by Jack Morrison. Today? Almost $23 million in my combined assets alone, then, two future billionaire partners, an AI that could predict and manipulate markets, and a system that literally paid me to sleep with beautiful women.

Tell me... still a dream? Think so? Stick around.

Because here’s what nobody understood: this wasn’t luck. This wasn’t coincidence. This was systematic conquest, executed with every tool available — sex, tech, brains, and zero moral limitations.

Charlotte controlled 75% of a twelve-billion-dollar company. Even with the stock cratered, she still owned the throne. The enemies holding the other 25%? Paper tigers. Worthless scraps. They thought they had leverage while she held the actual company in her hands. They were basically holding Monopoly money while Charlotte was playing Risk.

Madison would inherit the largest real estate empire in America. With my enhancements and ARIA’s predictions, we’d corner markets before anyone even knew they existed. Every boom, every spike, every undervalued property — ours before the competition could even Google the zip code.

And me? I had a system that turned orgasms into empire-building capital. Every woman I liberated didn’t just generate SP — she became a node in a network of power, money, influence, and mild chaos. Amanda, Vivienne, Anastasia — all of them unknowingly wiring the foundations of my teenage dominion while we were having fun.

Three weeks. Nine women. Ten million dollars.

At this rate? In a year, I’d have liberated over a hundred women and stacked hundreds of millions in SP alone. Add trading profits, tech innovations, real estate domination, and corporate infrastructure...

We weren’t building a company. We were building a new world order.

And the best part? Everyone thought we were losing.

Rivera thought they’d destroyed Charlotte. Shorts thought Quantum Tech was dead. Competitors thought they had leverage. They were basically cheering while their sandcastles got bulldozed.

Tomorrow at the press conference, Charlotte would announce her leave of absence. Stock crater. Headlines celebrate our "defeat."

They’d never see the empire rising from the ashes... until it was too late.

Madison stirred against me. "What are you thinking about?"

"Math," I said simply.

"Sexy math?" she teased.

"The sexiest math," I confirmed. "The kind that ends with us owning everything."

Charlotte laughed softly. "You really believe that, don’t you?"

I didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. The numbers were screaming it. Twenty million in less than three weeks. What would three months bring? Three years? Three decades?

The world had no idea. But they’d find out soon enough.

No cap — being a sixteen-year-old financial deity with a liberation complex and a calculator was probably the deadliest combo in human history.

Charlotte leaned against my right shoulder, her company valued at $8 billion publicly with another $4 billion hidden in Swiss accounts and Cayman shells that would make any compliance officer spontaneously combust. Twelve billion total. A queen armed with a holding company, just learning how lethal leverage could be.

These weren’t just beautiful women. These were economic weapons of mass destruction, waiting to be deployed like missiles in Prada heels.

"ARIA," I said quietly, "run the projections."

[TORRES DEVELOPMENT GROUP

Current Portfolio: $300+ billion in California real estate

With 50% Enhancement: $450+ billion (because why settle for realistic growth?)

Madison’s Inheritance Share: 70% — lucky bastard heiress status activated

Timeline: 5–10 years of absolute market domination]

"How the fuck are you planning to increase our holdings by fifty percent?" Madison asked, eyes glued to the numbers like a kid watching someone pour gasoline on fireworks.

"Same way I’m about to jack Quantum Tech," I said smoothly, leaning back with that "I’m literally untouchable" vibe. "By being smarter than everyone else in the room, predicting every move before it happens, and having an AI that basically renders luck obsolete."

The screen flickered, updating like a financial porn climax.

The TV screen lit up with numbers so obscene even Warren Buffett would weep quietly into a pile of Berkshire Hathaway reports and Elon Musk quietly curse the fact he wasn’t sixteen with my brain.