I lounged on a beach chair, naked under the golden sun, sipping chilled coconut water. The clear blue ocean had slow, methodical waves going through it while a soft breeze rustled the palm trees behind us. Beside me lay a girl just as breathtaking as the view, wearing nothing but sunglasses that matched my own.
"I could get used to this," she murmured, her voice languid and content.
"You can come here whenever you want," I said, stretching my arms behind my head. "I own this place. Just say the word and I'll arrange everything."
She tilted her head, giving the island a skeptical once-over. "You own this island? I thought you rented it."
"Yeah. Not a big deal," I replied casually. "In a few years, you could save enough to buy one for yourself, if you wanted."
She thought for a moment, then grinned as she shook her head. "Nah. I'd rather rent it from you."
With that, she rose from her chair and straddled me, her bare skin pressing against mine. Her lips found mine in an instant, and I met her kiss hungrily. My hands slid down to her firm, round cheeks and squeezed them with appreciation.
We didn't get far.
A loud throat-clearing broke through the sound of crashing waves.
Scarlett startled, pulled back abruptly, and covered her chest with her arms. She leaped off me and scrambled to put on her bikini, her cheeks flushed. Standing nearby was Benji, his back turned respectfully, though his ears burned red.
"You just had to come now, didn't you?" I asked in mild frustration. "Didn't I book this portion of the beach in advance, so you know where not to come?"
"I'm sorry!" He apologized profusely without turning around. "I promise I have a good reason for interrupting."
"Oh?" I asked curiously. I knew Benji, not only was he turning out to be a competent assistant, but he was a good friend. He won't cockblock me until it was absolutely necessary.
He slowly turned back to me when Scarlett was back in her swimsuit. I wasn't.
"You should probably get dressed for it."
"It's not like you haven't already seen me like this." I didn't move from my spot. "Just tell me what it is."
He sighed in defeat. He had gotten quite used to my shameless ways by now.
"I'm here to remind you that Tobias and Andrew are coming over. They have already landed on the Virgin Islands and are on a boat. They could be here any minute. Figured you'd want a heads-up before they catch you in...a compromising situation."
Andrew, my finance manager, called a couple of days ago about something urgent. I wasn't keen on ending my vacation early—especially one this short—so I told him to come to me instead. Guess it really was urgent.
"Why is Tobias coming?" I asked, finally getting up and putting on a pair of trunks.
"He wants your go-ahead to move forward with that TV show you bought the rights to: [Breaking Bad]," Benji explained. "The pilot's already shot. He wants you to see it and decide whether to greenlight the rest. He wasn't planning to come until he heard Andrew was headed this way, so he decided to tag along. To save on resources and all that stuff."
"Sure, he had to 'save resources'." I made air quotes. "It had nothing to do with the fact that he'd get to be here on this island."
Benji shrugged helplessly.
Tobias had complained endlessly last time that I didn't invite him over to the island. This time also, it was just me, Scarlett, Benji, and his new girlfriend who had come here, because I wanted to keep this trip short and intimate.
I let out a low hum, contemplating. [Breaking Bad] was easily one of the greatest television shows of the 21st century. Most series fell apart near the end, but that one had stuck the landing with a finale that cemented its legacy. When Tobias mentioned producing it, and Evan backed the idea, I didn't hesitate for a second.
They had secured the rights directly and developed a script for half the season. Now all that remained was my approval to begin full production. I could have greenlit it without watching the pilot, but I couldn't be entirely sure it would turn out the way I remembered. Too much had changed by this point.
"Okay, let them come," I said, settling back into my sunbathing position.
"Don't you want to… come inside?" Benji asked hesitantly, standing a few steps away, uncertain whether to linger or leave.
I chuckled and reminded him, "I didn't invite them here. They decided to crash my vacation. Let them come to me."
Benji gave an exaggerated shake of his head before heading toward the mansion, sand crunching lightly beneath his shoes.
Scarlett slipped back onto the chair beside me, her skin glowing in the sun.
"So, you're producing TV shows now?" she asked with a note of curiosity.
"I am," I said with a nod. "Didn't you see [The Night Of] on HBO? It started airing last month."
"I did," she said. "I just figured it was a one-off. Didn't expect you to turn into a television mogul too."
I flashed her a grin. "Too? What other mogul am I?"
She gave a playful shrug. "You tell me. I've heard rumors that you own YouTube. If that's true, I'm not sure how big a mogul that actually makes you."
My grin widened, but I didn't confirm or deny it. She didn't press me either. Instead, she changed the subject.
"That idiot Reynolds has been chasing me non-stop," she said with clear irritation. "Some people really can't handle rejection."
I laughed, genuinely amused.
"I told you he's an asshole, didn't I?"
"You were right. When I turned him down, his agent contacted mine with a suggestion. They wanted us to pretend to be a couple for the press. His team had this whole PR strategy planned, where we'd talk about each other in interviews to boost visibility. Apparently, he ran some numbers and discovered that people love celebrity couples. Like you and Rihanna. He said the public adored you two together, and he wants to recreate that energy with me."
That explained a lot. Maybe that was exactly what he had done with Blake Lively in the original timeline. Now that I thought about it, I remembered how often celebrities leaned into that image of the happy couple—Ryan and Blake, John Krasinski and Emily Blunt, even Beyoncé and Jay-Z to some extent. (That is until he cheated on her.) It made sense if it was all carefully planned PR, crafted to promote stability and warmth to the public.
"I thought we were doing something before we were rudely interrupted," I said, brushing my hand over her bare belly.
She caught it immediately and tossed it back with a smirk. "Not when you've got people showing up any minute. I'm not as shameless as you."
I was about to hit back with a clever remark, but she cut me off.
"By the way, what exactly are we, Troy?"
"What do you want us to be, Scar?" I shot back, my tone light but not joking.
She stayed silent for a few seconds.
"I adore you," I continued, looking at her seriously. "You're one of my closest friends. That's what I thought we were: friends with benefits. Do you want more?" I asked directly.
"I don't know," she admitted softly. "I'm turning twenty-three in a few weeks. When I was a kid, I always imagined I'd have a serious boyfriend by now, maybe even be planning a wedding by twenty-five. I guess I've just been holding on to that dream."
I scooted closer to her. "Don't settle just because it fits the timeline," I said gently, meeting her eyes. "You're still young. Have fun. Break a few hearts. Take your time figuring out who you want to build a life with. Don't rush into anything unless you're certain you can see yourself growing old with that person. You deserve the best."
Scarlett laughed, her voice bright and melodic, then slipped her hand into mine.
"And what if I am looking at the best?" She teased.
I looked away from her, but didn't reply. Before the silence could get awkward, she broke it.
"Are you sure you're only eighteen?" There was a spark of wonder in her expression.
"Pretty sure," I replied with a grin.
She stood up and straddled me again, her body warm and inviting. "Just for that, I want to show you my appreciation." Her lips found mine, hungry and soft, as her hand reached under my waistband, grabbing Troy Jr. with purpose.
Naturally, that was when someone decided to interrupt.
"Ahem!"
"For fuck's sake!" I groaned as Scarlett jumped off me in alarm.
"I'll see you back at the mansion, Troy," she mumbled quickly before scurrying away, her cheeks flushed as she passed the trio of men now standing nearby.
Andrew, Tobias, and Benji stood there, all three looking like they regretted every life choice that brought them to this moment. Benji, not meeting my eyes, muttered some hasty excuse and quickly headed back to the mansion.
I closed my eyes in defeat. It seems like today is not my day.
I stared my former assistant dead in the eye and said, "As much as I appreciate seeing you here, Tobias, what is it that you need to talk about this urgently?"
Tobias let out a resigned breath. "The pilot for [Breaking Bad] is finished. I brought it with me for your approval. I've already sent copies to HBO, Showtime, AMC, FX—basically any network open to a TV-MA show. Before any of that moves forward, though, I need your signature on some paperwork."
I didn't enjoy doing business while on vacation, especially when I knew this could be avoided. I was tempted to call Tobias out, but at the last minute, I decided not to. "Fine. Go inside and set up the projector. I need to talk to Andrew alone for a bit."
Tobias gave us both a long, speculative look before turning and heading toward the mansion.
"Come on Andrew," I motioned towards the seat Scarlett had vacated moments ago. "Lie down. Take off some clothes if you want. You seem way too wound up. Relax a little."
"I'm fine as it is," He replied gratefully but took the offered seat nonetheless.
I barked out a laugh. "Always so prim and proper. Eh, Andrew?" I looked up at the sky. The sun was already hanging low over the horizon, casting long golden beams across the ocean.
Finally, I turned on my business mode and motioned for Andrew to say his piece. I could deduce that whatever he had to tell me wasn't trivial. He had flown out here in person for a reason, which wasn't just to enjoy the beach like Tobias.
"I think we should start clearing out our CDS on the housing market," he said, his tone serious. "Things are getting volatile. Nobody knows which way it's going to go, but I can feel something building. Credit rating agencies have already downgraded a bunch of housing bonds. The value of our credit default swaps is at an all-time high."
"Many market experts are predicting a crash," Andrew continued, the tension clear in his voice. "Right now, it's all speculation, but if it plays out like the dot-com bubble, the impact could be catastrophic. You're already sitting on billions in unrealized profits. If we don't make a move soon, all of that could be wiped out."
I stayed quiet for a few moments, thinking it through. The ocean breeze brushed across my face as the sun sank lower, casting a burnt-orange hue across the waves.
"Alright," I said finally, nodding. "Start cashing out the CDS. You have full discretion on how you sell it, but clear it all by the end of this year in all categories except the BBB bonds. As for the long position we took on Apple, clear it out in the last week of December. Not before. Not after. Understood?"
Andrew nodded with laser focus. "What about your put options on AIG?"
"Hold them. We'll review next year, or maybe wait until they mature in 2009. There's no rush to sell those."
"Okay," he said, making a mental note. "I'll take care of it."
If there was one silver lining to growing up with my manipulative adoptive parents in my previous life, it was that I learned how to navigate financial markets early. I had spent years immersing myself in economics and investing. Even after breaking away from that toxic past, I had thrown myself into researching the 2008 financial crisis, knowing exactly when and how it would strike. What I was doing now wasn't guesswork. It was a calculated strategy designed to maximize my gains.
Despite that knowledge, I didn't fully trust it, and still diversified across different instruments that I knew would be affected by the turmoil of 2007-09. If anything changed because of the butterfly effect, I wouldn't lose everything in one blow.
"There's just one thing I've been wondering," Andrew said cautiously. "What do you plan to do with all that money? If you go out and buy something high-profile, like a public company or a major asset, it's going to become public knowledge that you own it. That will create questions sooner or later."
His comment pulled me back to something Scarlett had said earlier about rumors of me owning YouTube.
"Why are you assuming I'm going to buy a company?" I asked, keeping my tone light but inquisitive.
"It just wouldn't make sense to sit on that kind of cash forever," he replied. "You've got more money than you'll ever need. So unless you're planning some major acquisitions, there's no reason to keep accumulating. You could retire as soon as in a few months and never worry about cash for the rest of your life."
I smiled faintly. Andrew was a smart man.
"You're right," I agreed. "That's the plan, but nothing is set in stone yet. I'll wait until next year before making a move. Trust me, by this time next year, everything will be upside down."
"I believe you," Andrew replied, his voice calm but sincere. "I don't know why, but I do."
"Good," I said with a smile. "Here's the next step. As soon as you're done cashing out the CDS, I want you to start shorting financial companies, the same way we did with AIG. I've compiled a list. I'll send it to you next week when I'm back home. Don't do it all at once. Spread the shorts over the course of a week for each company I tell you to."
The last light of day cast a warm orange-pink glow over the sky, and a soft breeze whispered through the trees. I took one final look at the horizon before standing.
"I think we should head inside," I said, motioning for Andrew to follow. "I've acquired a TV show, and its pilot episode is ready. Let's watch it together."
We walked back in silence, the crunch of gravel under our feet the only sound as we made our way toward the mansion. Just before stepping through the doors, I remembered something important.
"Oh, and remind me to pick up a few finance books when we get back."
"Why?" Andrew asked, his curiosity piqued.
I shrugged and kept walking without answering. The reason was simple. While my understanding of financial instruments was far above average, it still wouldn't be enough to convince the world that I had pulled off the greatest financial trade in modern history without any formal background in finance. If anyone ever came asking, I needed to make sure the story looked airtight.
And I have to do it quickly as well because soon, the promotions for [The Half Blood Prince] will begin.
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AN: Visit my Pat reon to read ahead, or check out my second Hollywood story set in the 80s.
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