World's Richest Man: I Leaped Across Time

When Emily reached Arnold's table, she leaned down to speak with him briefly, a quiet exchange that I couldn't make out.

Then she turned to the man with gray hair sitting opposite Arnold.

Emily bowed slightly in respect before engaging in a quick, whispered conversation.

After that brief interaction, Emily walked away from Arnold's table and headed to another one near the center of the balcony.

There, sitting at the table in his tailored suit, was the CEO of Bloomberg, Ryan Bloomberg

It wasn't surprising for Emily to know him; after all, they were both from media-related families, but it was Emily's next move that caught me off guard.

She sauntered over to his table, her hips swaying with the soft music playing from below. Without hesitation, she sat down next to him, leaning in close.

Emily was flirting with him, her fingers brushing his arm, her eyes locked on his as she spoke in hushed tones.

Whatever she was saying, it was working. Ryan's body relaxed, and he laughed at something she whispered. His hand reached out, lightly resting on her arm.

How many lovers does she have?

I guess she is trying to get something from him?

It was fun to theorize, but it was time to act on my own plans.

I placed my hand on Charlotte's exposed back, and she immediately sensed my intentions.

Without a word, I stood up, and she followed behind me as we walked up to Arnold's table.

I caught a glimpse of the man with the gray hair sitting across from Arnold. His face came into view—sharp features, an expression of deep thought, but also calm confidence.

I knew who he was immediately.

Net worth of over $50 billion, the second-richest man in the United States, right after Bill Gates.

Warren Bufford.

This was a man who could bend the world to his will.

He was known for controlling industries from railroads to energy to finance.

Warren's eyes briefly met mine as we arrived at the table.

Coincidentally, eyes were the only thing visible through the mask that I was wearing.

We sat down on one side of the table, with Arnold on my left and Warren on my right.

They gazed at us with the calculated looks of people who were used to others vying for their time.

"Do you have any business with me?" Warren said, his voice deep, rich, but not unfriendly.

I shook my head. "No. I have business with Mr. Johnson."

And in that moment, Arnold seemed to recognize my voice.

"What do you want?" Arnold asked calmly yet sharply.

"That's what I wanted to ask... How many votes do you want from me?"

Arnold's eyes narrowed. "All of them," he replied bluntly.

"All...? Let's be honest, Mr. Johnson." I paused for a moment. "The people you found were hired to cause me trouble, but you haven't found the actual culprit that paid them. I think I should be able to request one more favor."

Arnold's eyes darkened slightly. "And what would that be?"

"I want to investigate the background of a few programmers from Russia."

Arnold didn't answer immediately.

Before he could respond, Warren, still sitting there like a king surveying his subjects, chuckled softly. "If you can't do it, Arnold. I can fulfill that request."

But Arnold quickly raised a hand, stopping Mr. Bufford in his tracks. "Warren... I know this man," he said firmly. "If you take his favor, our relationship ends here."

Warren paused, considering Arnold's words carefully. Then he broke into a deep, booming laugh—the kind of laugh that only the ultra-rich could muster. "It's not worth it, then."

Arnold didn't laugh. He turned his gaze back to me. "Aren't you a bit too greedy?" His voice had a cold edge to it now.

I held his stare. "This is business. The votes you need will be yours. I just want this one favor."

'We didn't sign a contract for the last favor, so I could theoretically abandon Arnold and use my voting points at the auction, but making an enemy out of this man isn't something I'm interested in.' I thought.

Arnold studied me for another moment, then gave a slight nod, as if he had come to a conclusion.

But before he could speak further, the soft golden light around us dimmed, and all eyes slowly moved to the far end of the balcony.

My eyes followed everyone else's gaze to a set of curtains, deep crimson in color, that were slowly parting.

Behind the curtains, a golden light poured out, illuminating the silhouette of a man.

He was short and wore a light blue suit. His dark blonde hair was pulled back into a man bun.

He looked to be around my age.

Whoever it was, I felt like they were someone special... in a different way than the others.

But as he stepped forward, I was taken aback. I had expected someone cold, composed, maybe even intimidating. But the second he opened his mouth, I realized how wrong I was.

"Heyyy, everyone!" he said, his voice almost sing-songy, like a kid. "I missed all of you so much! It feels like forever since our last party, right?"

He started clapping his hands together like a child, unable to contain their excitement, in an almost cartoonish way.

"I'm super-duper proud of you all!" he continued, a goofy grin spreading across his face. "You all got your fifteen voting points back! Woohoo! High five to everyone! Boom! Boom!" He mimicked air high-fives, swinging his arms around.

Then he threw his arms wide open. "And guess what? You know what time it is, right? It's time to begin the AUCTION!"

He wiggled his fingers in the air dramatically. "This is gonna be soooo fun!"

'Who the hell is this guy?' I thought.

At that moment, the back of the stage lit up again, and from behind the scene, around twenty supermodels walked out. Each one was dressed in tight, gold dresses. They held large golden plaques in their hands, made of thick, elegant paper.

The models moved in between the tables. Each step was slow and sexy, every smile bright and teasing.

They knew exactly when to stop and when to catch a guest's eye, leaving a lingering moment before moving on.

One model with blonde hair and big blue eyes paused at our table. She smiled a brilliant smile, holding up her golden plaques, her eyes sweeping over Arnold, Warren, Charlotte, and me.

Arnold took one of the papers from her.

Once the papers were delivered, the models slipped back where the light wasn't reaching and waited.

There were pens on the table, ready for anyone who wanted to scribble their favors down.

I had no intention of requesting a favour during this auction. I would use my voting points in private.

Arnold hunched over the golden paper, and wrote something down.

Across the room, a multitude of members did the same.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Tom Cruise. He was one of many famous people I had read were members of the Scientology church.

It was strange how many people seemed to have something to do with Scientology, and those were only the publicly known members.

A few minutes later, the models stepped back into the light and collected the golden plaques from the tables before returning to the stage.

On the stage, a large, wooden table had been rolled out. One by one, they placed the plaques down.

Then, another man emerged from the side of the stage. He was tall and lean, dressed in a sharp, dark blue suit.

He stepped up to the table before speaking. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm Operator Leon, I have the privilege of leading tonight's auction. I trust that everyone here will see their favors fulfilled."

He paused briefly before picking up the first golden plaque from the top of the stack.

Leon held the plaque up. "The first favor involves a request to collect compromising information on a political opponent in order to force their withdrawal from a race." he started to read aloud.

"Specifically, this is in reference to the ongoing battle for the presidency of the Texas State Senate. James Dewhurst seeks assistance in ensuring their rival's reputation is destroyed before the next voting session."

Leon set the plaque down. "The starting bid is 7 voting points. Let the bidding begin."

"Six voting points!" shouted a thin, older woman from the furthest part of the balcony.

"Five voting points!" It was actually Emily Heart bidding.

I guess it was easy for her family to manipulate some facts.

"Four voting points!" the older woman repeated.

A few more seconds passed, but no one raised the bid.

"Four points goes once... twice..." Operator Leon called. "Sold! The favor goes to Mery Kovien!"

'Mery Kovien? I think she is the CEO of New York Times...' I thought.

What followed after the first favor made my stomach twist in knots.

It was crazy what these people in the club were willing to do.

The next bid involved suppressing incriminating evidence about human rights violations by a pharma company, tied to a clinical trial with the FDA.

Then there was a favor to threaten a witness so they refused to testify.

Another one had to do with human trafficking...

Then Leon picked up another plaque. "This one involves breaking up the marriage of two A-list actors, Riley Hart and Tyler Mason, by manipulating one spouse into unfaithful situations and planting evidence of affairs. The starting bid is 3 voting points."

I guess someone either hates their guts or wants to get together with either of them...

Someone ended up winning the bid with 1 voting point...

Then Leon picked up yet another plaque. "This favor involves ruining the reputation of an ecological protest leader who is rallying against the creation of a new fabric due to water pollution concerns linked to the pharmaceutical company Seagen. The starting bid is 5 voting points."

Seagen?

If I remember correctly, Gabriel owns this company.

Is this Arnold's favor?

Why would he help Gabriel like this?