World Domination Begins With Getting a System in a Modern World

The day had been long for James. Not just physically but mentally as well.

The morning tee time at the Bel-Air Country Club and the afternoon training session with Mr. Donovan had left his muscles pleasantly sore.

Abd lately, his life had become a maze of different schedules. But unlike the James from two weeks ago, this version had already begun adapting.

Back then, he would’ve been absolutely famished by now. But now? His body had adjusted. So had his routine.

Even the exhaustion didn’t settle in quite the same way anymore. His willpower — his focus — had sharpened. Pain became background noise. Discipline became instinct.

He had just finished a late lunch — roasted chicken, sautéed greens, and a glass of lemon water — and was heading toward the living room to join Patty and Leslie for a quiet night of movies. A rare treat. Something normal and warm.

But just as he reached the hallway, his phone buzzed.

He glanced down at the screen.

Alina.

A faint smile touched his lips as he answered.

"Hey."

"James!" Her voice was sharp, bright, and crackling with barely contained excitement. "Tell me you’ve seen the news."

James blinked, then chuckled. "I haven’t been online today. You know how it is. What happened?"

Alina’s voice dropped a pitch, playful and breathless.

"Check it. Right now. I’ll wait. Actually, no—I won’t. Call me back."

And she hung up.

James raised an eyebrow but obeyed. He stepped back into the dining room, slid into a chair, and opened his browser.

It didn’t take long. One search for Cullen Corp brought up a wall of headlines.

Cullen Corp Stock Plummets Amid Federal Investigation.

IRS, FBI Launch Joint Inquiry into Cullen Corp’s Financial Irregularities.

Whistleblower Lawsuit Filed in Manhattan: Cullen Execs Under Fire.

A slow, delightful smile crept across James’ face as he scrolled.

The news was spreading like wildfire. Blogs, financial columns, even early morning talk shows were picking up the scent. Cullen Corp wasn’t just bleeding — it was hemorrhaging.

He pulled his phone app and called Alina back.

She answered on the first ring.

"So?" she asked, already grinning through the phone.

James smiled to himself in satisfaction.

"It was as expected," he said simply.

Alina laughed. "God, I want to ask how you did it. I really do. But I know you’d just dodge the question anyway."

"Exactly," James said. "But you don’t need to worry, as you handled your end perfectly. The timing, the targeting. They never saw it coming."

"They didn’t. And now, they’re panicking." Her tone turned sharper, more analytical. "Blogs are feasting on them. Institutional holders are dumping stock. Their logistics partners in Southeast Asia already pulled out. Did you see the part about the Arizona warehouse glitch?"

James hummed. "I did. Three days of power failure. ’Unexplained’ my ass."

They were quiet for a moment, both relishing the fallout.

The next moment, James’ voice turned serious.

"They’re going to retaliate."

Alina exhaled. "I figured."

"You’re the only one they can realistically trace. So be careful. Really careful."

"I will," she replied. "I’ve already started wiping the soft trails. Proxy chains, email redirections. I’m not careless."

"Good. Because if they even think they’ve found a weak point..."

"They won’t. I won’t be the reason we fail."

James nodded once, silent approval.

They spoke a few minutes longer — about contingency plans, about escalation points, about how the pressure was expected to compound over the next week.

When the call ended, James didn’t move for a while. He stood there, staring at nothing in particular, running the chessboard through his mind.

He owed a lot of this to Mr. Harrington.

It was his legal architecture, his contacts, his calls to the right agencies, that lit the match.

James had provided the fuel, the angle, the motivation.

But Harrington? He struck the first spark.

And now, the whole forest was burning.

Eventually, James stood and made his way into the living area. Leslie had already started a movie and Patty was curled into one side of the sectional, eyes closed but not asleep.

James sank into the couch with a contented sigh. It was time to enjoy his time with his family.

***

Later that night, just as James was about to head upstairs for bed, his phone buzzed again.

He checked it and he saw that it was a message from Ralph.

He swiped it open and scanned the message.

"Update: Total profit now at $150M. The whales just moved again. Expecting a major pump in two days. Projected high — $400M+."

James blinked, reading it twice. Then once more. And he grinned in satisfaction.

From $30 million to $150 million. In days. And if the momentum kept up... $400 million was within reach.

He quickly typed out a reply:

"Nice. Let’s stay sharp. Let me know when the signals lock."

Ralph replied instantly with a thumbs-up emoji and a short "Already on it."

James lowered the phone and leaned back into the pillows, a low chuckle vibrating in his chest.

Between Cullen Corp’s collapse and their memecoin explosion, the week had shaped into something very rewarding and satisfying.

He closed his eyes, with a smile and fell asleep.

***

Rachel sat on the edge of her bed, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, a faint sheen of sweat clinging to her skin despite the soft breeze drifting in through the open balcony doors.

The room around her was quiet — too quiet. The overhead chandelier cast warm gold patterns across the floor, but the light felt distant, hollow, as if the warmth had no place in her thoughts tonight.

She held her phone in one hand, staring at the screen. Her thumb hovered over James’ name, the number he had given her not even a full twenty-four hours ago.

She had saved it immediately after she got back to the yacht.

She wanted to call him but the idea of calling him so soon after their encounter felt reckless. Presumptuous. Especially when he hadn’t given her a clear answer. He had told her he’d think about it, and that was all.

Would it be rude to reach out now? Would it come off as desperate?

She tightened her grip on the phone, the screen dimming and relighting with her movement. Her mind raced in loops — one moment filled with resolve, the next crushed by doubt.

What if she called and he ignored it?

What if he picked up and treated her with the same cool distance he had earlier?

Or worse... what if he simply didn’t care anymore?

She chewed her lower lip and stood, pacing toward the window, the marble floor cold beneath her bare feet.

The night beyond was still. The lights of Bel-Air glittered in the distance, but even those seemed muted from her high vantage point.

And despite all the luxury and elegance that surrounded her, Rachel had never felt more uncertain.

Her pride — the shield she had carried for so long — was already bruised from everything she’d confessed.

She had never had to ask for help before. Not like this. Not from someone like James.

And now, here she was, hoping he’d care enough to pick up the phone.

She sighed deeply and looked down at the device still cradled in her hand.

He doesn’t even have my number, she thought.

That realization struck her hard. If she didn’t call — if she didn’t make the first move — there was a very real chance James would never reach out. Not because he was being cruel, but because he simply had no way to.

The temptation surged in her again.

One call.

One message.

But she couldn’t do it.

Not tonight.

It was already late, and no matter how fragile her position felt right now, she still had her boundaries — what little control she had left.

She turned the phone over in her hand and forced herself to walk back to the nightstand. She set it down gently, like it was something fragile, then sank onto the bed once more.

"I’ll call tomorrow," she whispered to no one.

Her voice sounded small in the stillness.

Rachel leaned back against the headboard, arms folding tightly across her chest, as if to protect the last shreds of pride she hadn’t yet surrendered.

She closed her eyes, but sleep didn’t come easily.