I Inherited Trillions, Now What?

Alexander sat in the room, his posture relaxed yet commanding, exuding an air of quiet authority. He was well aware that Patrick Morgan, the head of the Morgan family, was studying him—assessing, analyzing, no doubt running calculations in his mind. Thinking something, Alexander mused.

Probably about what I'm planning.

He didn't need to be a mind reader to know that. While Patrick Morgan was undoubtedly a brilliant man—one of the sharpest in the room and in the world of business—Alexander also knew he wouldn't be able to guess what he was truly planning. The older man could speculate, could theorize, could even assume he had grasped the scope of it, but the reality was far more complex than what he or anyone else could anticipate.

This deal? A mere fragment. A minuscule piece of the puzzle.

At best, it was a necessary stepping stone—a safeguard for the inevitable turbulence ahead. Things in America were about to heat up, and Alexander had long seen the storm brewing on the horizon. Chaos was imminent, and if there was one thing he despised, it was being unprepared when the tide turned. He wasn't about to sit idly by and allow himself or his assets to be caught in the crossfire.

Securing his money overseas had been a top priority from the start. He needed a stronghold—one where his wealth would be protected without compromise. But in a world where even the wealthiest could be toppled by a single miscalculation, trust was a rare and delicate commodity. That was why, despite his reservations, he had chosen the Morgans to be part of this.

Unlike the other elite families in the United States, the Morgans operated under a different set of rules—ones that made them more reliable in this situation plus the mutual cooperation that has happened between both families made them the only choice. Most had underestimated his father, failing to predict just how vast the Blackwell empire would grow. By the time they had realized their mistake, it was already too late. The Blackwells had been propped up rather than suppressed, particularly by European interests who saw them as a counterforce against the American elite families.

And because of that, while other families had struggled to establish themselves in Europe, the Blackwells had faced no such resistance. By the time their influence was fully recognized, their business reach had already woven itself into major economic sectors. There were only a handful of places left untouched by their grasp. But even with all that, this particular deal—the one Heinrich Volkmann had just signed, the one that had haunted his thoughts for months—was critical.

Heinrich hadn't been wrong to fear it. He hadn't been wrong to dread it.

But he had been a little wrong about its true purpose.

Yes, Alexander had wanted him to sign the deal. That much was true. But the real battle for Credit Suisse had begun long before Heinrich even knew he was playing. The Chinese had been the first to make their move, seeking to carve their way into the Swiss financial market. Why? That was something Alexander had yet to uncover, but rest assured—he would.

Originally, his sights had been set higher—on UBS Group AG, Switzerland's largest and most powerful bank. If he was going to enter a market, he believed in doing it big. Go big or go home. That was a philosophy he liked.

UBS had been the original target.

But then he saw what was already being orchestrated around Credit Suisse—the strategies, the groundwork, the movements happening behind the scenes. The pieces were shifting, and in that moment, he made the decision to seize the opportunity.

His first attempt had been the simple route—a straightforward offer. Heinrich, stubborn as ever, had rejected it outright. That was fine. Alexander never minded taking the long road, as long as he reached his destination. The moment he took full control of the negotiations, it had taken him just two days to bend the situation to his favor.

And now? He was here, victorious. Enjoy new chapters from My Virtual Library Empire

On the surface, he was the picture of composure—indifferent, calm, unreadable. But deep inside, his emotions simmered. He hated this.

Hated that he had been forced to secure this deal just to ensure his financial safety.

Hated that he had to involve the Morgans.

Hated that, despite all his preparations, he still wasn't in full control just yet.

But it was all necessary. For now. His family alone could not bear the weight of what was coming—not yet. He needed additional pillars of strength to stabilize his position, and this was simply part of that foundation.

Soon.

The thought whispered through his mind, sharp and resolute. Soon, phase one would be complete.

No more hiding. No more maneuvering behind the scenes. No more watching from the shadows as others tried to dictate the game. Once everything was in place, he would be the one setting the rules.

The lack of absolute control grated on him, but he knew—it was only temporary.

Soon.

The thought echoed again as he rose from his seat.

Three pairs of eyes followed his every movement. Patrick Morgan, his son, and another figure in the room all observing him, waiting for his next words.

Alexander straightened his suit, adjusted his cuffs, and with the same unreadable expression, finally spoke.

"It was nice doing business with you all."

His voice was even, controlled. Unshaken.

As Alexander made his intentions to leave clear, only two people in the room reacted—David and Frédéric. The former was his long-time friend, while the latter was both the Morgan heir and the president of the nation.

David stood almost instinctively, the concern evident on his face, while Frédéric followed suit, his sharp gaze locked onto Alexander. In stark contrast, Patrick Morgan, the head of the Morgan family, remained motionless, his expression unreadable as he continued to sit, observing the unfolding scene in silence.

"Are you leaving already? What about the school? What are we going to do about them?" David's voice broke the silence, frustration laced within his words as he confronted his friend. His concern was not misplaced—Alexander leaving now meant that they would have to face the issue without him, something he clearly wasn't comfortable with.

Alexander halted at the door, taking in David's expression. He understood his friend well enough to know that David wouldn't let this go easily. But he couldn't get involved—not yet. He turned slightly, his sharp gaze falling on the Morgan patriarch before shifting back to David.

"Why don't you plan with your father? I'm sure you two can handle this." His words were calm, measured, and yet final. There was no room for argument, no space for persuasion. He had made his decision.

David exhaled slowly, frustration flickering in his eyes before it gave way to resignation. He knew Alexander too well—when he had made up his mind, nothing could change it. Having him involved would have made everything easier, but since that wasn't an option, David had no choice but to accept it. Clenching his fists, he sat back down, determination settling over him like a cloak. If Alexander wouldn't be part of this, then he would make sure the school paid for what they had done. His own sister was involved—he could never forgive them.

Seeing that the matter was settled, Frédéric finally spoke up.

"Mr. Blackwell, let me accompany you out."

Without waiting for a response, he moved to lead Alexander out of the room.

The moment they stepped outside, they were met with the sight of security personnel stationed all around. Alexander's personal guards immediately moved towards him, three of them closing in as they approached.

Frédéric, walking alongside him, wasted no time in relaying urgent information.

"Mr. Blackwell, the planes were grounded earlier, but your assistant contacted us while we were inside. My team sent me a text confirming that she requested for them to resume operations. I didn't want to disturb you while you were in there, but we have permitted her request—"

Before he could finish, Alexander cut him off with a single word: "Well done."

That was all he said. No further acknowledgment, no additional remarks. But for Frédéric, it was enough.

He stood there, watching as Alexander walked away, his silhouette unwavering, his presence commanding even in departure. The weight in Frédéric's chest deepened, a silent reminder of the sheer pressure this man exerted just by existing.

Frédéric had worked his entire life to reach this position—to stand where he stood today. And yet, in the presence of Alexander Blackwell, he had never felt smaller.

Not even at the beginning of his political journey had he felt this insignificant. Back then, he had been an ambitious man striving to carve a name for himself. But now? Now he had reached the peak of his nation's power, and yet, standing before Alexander, it was as if there were still mountains he had yet to scale.

As he released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, another voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Mr. Zeller, my father would like to speak with you."

Frédéric turned his gaze towards the speaker—the younger Morgan boy. The request wasn't unexpected, but it didn't make it any less exhausting. Another powerful man to face. Another weight to bear.

Letting out another sigh, he straightened his posture and nodded. "I'm coming, Mr. Morgan."

As he re-entered the room, the weight of the day settled heavily on his shoulders.

He was supposed to be the number one citizen of his nation. But today, he had felt like the fourth. And none of those above him were even citizens of his own country.

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