Chapter 34: Greed Is a Virtue

Three more days passed.

Jordan was just about to lose his patience, as there had been no unusual activity from Steve.

At such a precarious time, if that guy Steve decided to strike while the iron was hot, the potential financial losses would be staggering. And it wasn't just about the money; it could attract the attention of the FBI and the SEC. Any abnormal stock fluctuation could expose his rat trading.

If things went south, it would hand the FBI the very evidence they needed!

The only good news was that the FBI had temporarily vanished from his sight. He no longer had to worry about an agent eavesdropping from the next stall while he was in the restroom.

Luca had actually managed to handle the FBI, forcing them to pull back for the time being!

"Thank you, Old Pigeon!"

Wearing nothing but a pair of oversized trunks, Jordan stood up from the deck and raised his glass toward Jimmy, who was standing nearby. At this moment, he was on his 170-foot luxury yacht, anchored in the sea not far from Long Island, hosting a wild party.

Jimmy was there too.

During this period, Jordan and Jimmy had become inseparable. Two men driven by immense greed sharing their business philosophies—it was like finding someone who shared your exact brand of filth; they truly were two of a kind.

Jordan felt that Jimmy would make a perfect stockbroker, while Jimmy felt that Jordan’s way of snatching money on Wall Street was even more outrageous than his own.

He had to risk his life to pull a few million from an airport, while this guy casually sliced millions off the stock market.

It was enough to make a man sick with jealousy.

"Cheers to Old Pigeon!" Jimmy also raised his glass in celebration, not forgetting to pull the young model beside him into a close embrace.

Just as the party was reaching its peak, a phone call suddenly came through.

Steve had suddenly, without any warning, begun dumping his shares in the footwear company.

"Son of a bitch!"

Upon receiving the news, Jordan flew into a rage, jumping up from his chair and shoving the woman beside him away.

The sudden news was a bolt from the blue, instantly killing his mood to party.

He turned and kicked Donnie in the rear. "Donnie! That damn high school classmate of yours is dumping Steve’s company stock! He’s trying to kill me! Damn it, Old Pigeon’s prophecy came true—he’s a prophet! He predicted all of this!"

Jordan clutched his head with both hands, his expression exaggerated. "Greco is my savior! I love him to death!"

Donnie blinked, stunned. "Are you sure? Don't jump to conclusions, it might just be a rumor."

"The company monitors have already picked it up! It’s not our clients selling—it has to be Steve! Only he holds that many shares!"

"So what if it is?"

Donnie shrugged. "Haven't we been prepared for this? If Steve wants to take us down, we’ll turn his company into a penny stock and make a fortune shorting it on the side."

Jordan’s expression shifted instantly from overcast to sunny. He let out a sigh of relief and laughed. "Good thing I listened to Old Pigeon and kept an ace up my sleeve."

He immediately shouted into the phone, "Execute the plan! Tell the clients to sell and we’ll use the opportunity to short Steve’s company! Call the media—the PR pieces we had them prepare can go out now! Dump all that dirt on Steve that the Prophet gave me!

Don’t you worry about who the Prophet is; he’s my daddy! I’d gladly kneel down and lick his boots!

Get the PR moving! I’ve already thought of the headline: 'Steve’s Malicious Sell-off Sparks Retail Panic.' Shift all the attention from the SEC and the media onto Steve. We are going to pose as the victims!

Betray me? Kick me while I’m down? I’ll smash his motherfucking plate to pieces first!"

...

Over the next period, the stock of Steve’s footwear company plummeted as clients sold off in droves, leading to a market crash.

Amidst the chaos, retail investors panicked. Jordan’s group, having been prepared, sold off their positions in batches while shorting the stock, using their clients' accounts to rack up massive commissions.

At the same time, they used their own capital and associated secret accounts to buy up shares at rock-bottom prices, regaining control of the company. Once the market stabilized, they drove the price back up for a second round of harvesting.

Jordan was well-versed in these despicable, shameless tactics.

Meanwhile, more scandals broke out regarding Steve’s company: allegations of financial fraud, inflated profits, insider trading...

Coupled with the media PR campaign, Steve’s reputation was destroyed, forcing him to lose control of his company.

The SEC prioritized investigating Steve, and Jordan managed to walk away from the storm unscathed.

A battle fought with an ambush and proper preparation is always that decisive.

After Steve’s downfall, Jordan seized the opportunity to convert his 85% paper equity into actual control.

The footwear company was now in his pocket.

Jordan’s reputation shook Wall Street once again.

The wolf was back.

CNN: [The Wolf of Wall Street Returns, Ruthlessly Devouring Steve’s Footwear]

Fortune Magazine: [A Premeditated Ambush: Jordan Belfort Planned Everything, Predicting Steve’s Every Move Like a Prophet. Steve Has Paid a Terrible Price for His Betrayal!]

ABC: [The FBI Cannot Bring Down Belfort! He Has Once Again Created a Wealth Myth!]

...

[Steve maliciously dumped stocks, disrupting the market... You helped Jordan stabilize the stock of Steve’s Footwear, maintaining peace in the stock market.]

[Obtained Skill Point x10]

[Obtained Skill Fragment x5]

[Remaining Skill Fragments: 73]

Luca hadn’t expected the system to be so abstract—it even counted this?

Well, it was true that Steve had started the war, betrayed Jordan, and engaged in malicious dumping... Even though Jordan had harvested a few crops of suckers, he had indeed stabilized the stock.

Seemed fair enough, right?

The system was abstract, but thankfully, Luca liked it that way.

Moreover, when Jordan and his crew were shorting the stock, Luca—who had planned this all along—had told Jimmy to get in on the action as well. They had made around two million in total.

This money was practically lying on the ground waiting to be picked up.

The profit margins were insane.

However, such opportunities were rare; they required perfect timing, location, and the right people. Luca wasn’t arrogant enough to think he was a stock-trading genius.

...

Once everything settled, Jordan hosted a party on his luxury yacht, inviting Luca and Jimmy. He arranged for beautiful women and fine wine, and handed Luca 2.5 million in cash.

"Two million is the deposit. Damn, the FBI is finally off my back! The remaining three million will be yours once they stop the investigation completely."

"And here’s an extra 500k as a thank-you bonus for the intelligence and information! My God, you can see into people's hearts; you predicted every move that scumbag Steve would make. You are absolutely sent by God to save me! I love you to death, Old Pigeon! Mua~~~"

Jordan, wearing only his trunks, lunged forward as he spoke, grabbing Luca’s head and puckering his lips to kiss his cheek.

Luca turned pale with fright and quickly shoved Jordan away. "Don't, don't, don't! We Sicilians don't do that!"

*Don't you dare touch me with those lips that have been licking lines and sucking on drugs.*

Jordan didn't care; he laughed heartily. "Old Pigeon! You have to come work at my company as a risk consultant! I don't believe in God anymore; I only believe in you!"

He truly believed in Luca now.

This mysterious guy knew his criminal history inside and out, and even knew who was going to try to double-cross him.

Like a prophet—it was almost too much.

Good thing he had prepared in advance, turning the tables and harvesting a massive crop of suckers in the process.

Perfect!

...

The party continued.

Jordan introduced Luca to his other partners.

A few of them had character cards, but their levels were low—all D-rank—and none of them carried any special skills.

These people were truly useless.

Most of them were Jordan’s fellow townsmen with no real skills. Their telemarketing techniques were all learned from Jordan; even the scripts were written by him.

All they had to do was memorize the lines, bombard clients with calls, push those penny stocks, and earn high commissions from the pink sheet market.

Was it legal? It was borderline.

The market itself was legal. What wasn't entirely legal was the way this group withheld information, hyped up those penny stocks with wild promises, and misled clients into buying.

It sounded remarkably similar to live-stream shopping decades later.

If you lacked judgment, you’d be harvested like wheat.

What was truly illegal were the rat trades Jordan used to manipulate the stocks, but in the environment of Wall Street, that was hardly anything special. Exploiting loopholes was the survival strategy of many a capitalist.

And the FBI didn't want these Wall Street wolves to exploit those loopholes and suck blood so easily.

That was where the conflict arose.

Unfortunately for Jordan, he had run into an incredibly stubborn FBI agent. Although Denham had retreated from the public eye, the secret investigation had never stopped.

"Damn the FBI! They only know how to bully us! We push 99% of our penny stocks onto the 1% of the ultra-wealthy in America! Is that wrong? Tell me, what is wrong with that?"

Jordan stood on a table on the yacht’s deck, facing the crowd, pounding his chest as he began his mesmerizing, impassioned speech.

"Let me tell you what is truly wrong! What’s wrong are those fat cats driving Rolls-Royces, drinking champagne, and playing with young models—while they drain the middle class dry with blue-chip stocks and legislate against the poor ever rising up!

And us? We’re the ones creating miracles!!

Those guys in Rolls-Royces don't need our pity; they have so many zeros in their accounts they can't even count them! We’re just helping them spend it!

Lost money? That’s called strategic trial and error! Made money? That’s our god-given talent for turning stones into gold!!

Do you know how Steve’s Footwear went from $4.50 to $18 in three hours? Because I and my brothers shoved the phone receivers down our clients' throats until they begged us to take their checks!!

Remember! When the poor lose money, they jump off buildings. When the rich lose money, they call it a lesson learned. We aren't the vampires of the poor; we are the wealth alchemists for the rich!

While those hypocrites fake smiles at charity galas, we use hard cash to teach this world that greed is not a sin—it’s a virtue!!"

Jordan grabbed a bottle of champagne, his expression shifting from manic to calm. "Let’s toast to those idiots at the SEC and the FBI. They’ll never understand why we’re so popular: because we’re working to make that 1% of wealth flow back into the market, giving the poor a chance to flip their lives around!"

Finally, Jordan’s face turned ferocious as he raised his middle finger high: "Fuck America!!!"

"OOOHHH!!!!"

The yacht erupted in a chorus of howls, looking just like a pack of wolves welcoming their Alpha.

Luca looked at the luxury yacht Jordan stood upon and gave a symbolic round of applause.

When this guy Jordan was blowing hot air, he didn't need a script—it just flowed out of him, pure, adrenaline-fueled insanity.

Suddenly, Jordan threw an arm around Luca’s shoulder and announced loudly, "Boys, let’s hear it for our Ambassador of Peace, Luca the Pigeon! From now on, Old Pigeon is our best friend. He’ll bring peace to our company and fuck those bastards at the FBI!

You all remember this! If you meet a beautiful woman, introduce her to him! If there’s a money-making opportunity, make sure to bring him along! Stuff the money into Old Pigeon’s mouth until he’s as fat as a bald eagle!!"

"OOOHHH!!!"

Another roar of cheers!

[Bond: Friends]