World's Richest Man: I Leaped Across Time

I stared at the screen, dumbfounded.

Bitcoin?

In 2003?

I skimmed the paper again, making sure I wasn't mistaken. The more I read, the more it became clear: this was a legitimate whitepaper of Bitcoin, outlining the basic principles of a digital currency system. But... it was published by Russian programmers?

No one in 2003 should have been anywhere close to coming up with Bitcoin. It was worked on maybe sometime after 2005 and only released in 2008 or 2009, I don't remember exactly.

But this... I mean... there were some cryptocurrencies even back in the late 90s that had a similar principle of cryptography to Bitcoin, but even then, why would they use the exact same name?

Unless they were like me.

Man, I was really trying to keep that theory out of my mind. But I can't refute it anymore...

Could there be others who had traveled through time, just like I did?

Staring at this Bitcoin whitepaper, it seemed like the only explanation that made sense.

If someone else has knowledge of the future, then they have the same advantage I do.

They can manipulate events, investments, and entire economies to suit their purposes.

The changes in the timeline, the shifting dynamics between China and the U.S. Possibly... Is a Chinese polytician or a USA polytician one of the travelers... or maybe both...

This scares the hell out of me...

This changes everything.

And what about this attack on me—was it a Russian hacker? IT expert? Was he a part of some sort of mafia or an Oligarch family?

He could have found his way into an organization like that by offering his capabilities, his knowledge about cybersecurity and IT that far surpasses what people are aware of at this time.

Were they now trying to take me down because I was a threat to their plans?

Fuck, why can't things just be simple?

If there are others like me, then achieving my goal will get way harder.

I was potentially facing other time travelers with agendas that might be as ambitious—and dangerous—as mine.

I was taken aback, sitting in the chair, staring at the screen, not knowing what to think or what to do with that fact frankly. How to proceed from here?

How do I fight against someone who knows the future as well as I do? How should I protect myself and my family from a psychopath that seemingly won't stop at anything?

Lots of questions, not many answers...

I got up from my station.

Mark shot me a look. "You're heading out already?"

"I've got urgent things to handle," I said flatly.

"This got anything to do with that crazy security Sam's throwing down?"

"Yes."

Without another word, I turned and left.

As I drove out of Orlando, the sun was starting to set. The silver Porsche hummed beneath me as the city faded into the rearview, replaced by the open highway to Gainesville.

My mind was tangled like a ball of yarn, but I continued on.

I got a call from Charlotte on the way because I was taking so long.

By the time I got to Gainesville, it was late evening.

Finally, I pulled into the driveway and parked the Porsche in the garage.

As I opened the car door, Charlotte was already there, standing by the side of the car, arms crossed, and a worried, tired look on her face.

Without a word, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me tightly.

I held her for a moment.

"The cops were here," she said quietly, pulling back just enough to look up at me. "They came by about an hour ago."

I frowned. "Why didn't you tell me that over the phone?"

She hesitated, her hands resting on my arms. "I just... I thought it would be better to explain everything face-to-face."

"Alright. Let's go inside."

"I made some tea," Charlotte said as we reached the living room. She motioned to the small tray on the coffee table, a teapot and two cups sitting there, steam still gently rising.

We sat down on the couch next to each other.

Charlotte poured the tea, and I took the warm cup in my hands.

"So," I said after a sip, "what did the police say?"

Charlotte set her cup down. "They told me they confirmed the identity of the man who attacked me. Supposedly, he was part of some small street gang... but the gang could have some connection to a larger organization.

They said that their higher-ups—I don't know who that is supposed to be, they didn't tell me, but they said that they will be looking deeper into this and try to find the people behind this."

I nodded slowly.

"They also mentioned Mia," Charlotte said, her voice sharpening. "They told me she's injured, Jack. That there is a large investigation going on around Sam. I didn't know any of this until they told me. When did you want to tell me?!"

I could see the anger flash in her eyes.

"Charlotte, I—"

"You're driving all over the state, and you don't even bother to let me know that Mia's in the hospital?"

"I was visiting my sister and my parents to let them know what's happening. I was going to tell you once I got here—I didn't want to worry you."

"Worry me? You think I'm not worried already? You think I didn't notice all the extra security around the house? I've been sitting here, Jack, waiting, wondering what the hell is going on..."

"I should have told you sooner. I'm sorry. There is just so much happening all at once..."

"I get it," she said. "I just... I hate feeling like I'm the last to know."

We sat in silence for a while. Finally, Charlotte let out a long breath. "The police are useless, by the way," she said, her tone shifting from anger to bitter frustration. "They were asking all these pointless questions—when do you usually get home? Do you know anyone with enemies? Like, what the hell?"

I could hear the disdain in her voice.

"They have no clue what they're doing, Jack," she continued, her hands gripping the edge of the couch cushion. "They just sit there, nodding, pretending like they're going to do something about it, but they don't have a plan at all."

"They're trying," I said, my voice tight, "but I guess I can't rely on them. I need to think about how to solve this myself."

Charlotte blinked, clearly caught off guard. "What do you mean, solve it yourself? You want to hire someone to track them. Jack... don't do anything stupid. We're not in some detective novel.

You will make things worse. They already put Mia in the hospital!"

She ran her hands through her hair and let out a long, exhausted sigh. "But why would anyone do this? What the hell did we do to deserve this?" she said, with her head down.

'How would she react if I told her the truth?' I thought.

DING! DING! DING!

The doorbell startled both of us.

Charlotte looked up with shocked eyes. "Did you expect anyone?"

"No. But don't worry. There are four security cars around the house," I said, getting to my feet. "There's no way someone would slip by without getting shot."

I walked up to the door, peering through the peephole.

Two men stood on the front step, both in dark suits. One was black, with short dark hair and a solid build. The other was white, bald, and slightly shorter. Behind them, I could see one of our bodyguards standing by.

I opened the door slowly, keeping my posture cautious.

They faced me directly.

The black man, the taller of the two, held up a badge. "Good evening, sir. I'm Special Agent Mike Hastings, and this is my partner, Special Agent Jake Carter. We're with the FBI."

The bald man, Mike, gave me a slight nod. "We'd like to ask you a few questions, if you have a moment."

I glanced back at Charlotte, who was now standing a few feet behind me in her long, bright jeans and a white cotton sweater.

"Sure," I said, stepping aside. "Come in."

The two agents walked into the house, their eyes briefly scanning the room.

Charlotte and I exchanged a glance as I motioned to the living room. "We can talk in here."

They both followed me into the living room, sitting down across from where Charlotte and I had been earlier.

Jake pulled out a small notepad, but it was Hastings who spoke again. "Thank you for seeing us. We're aware of the recent incidents involving your family and close associates. We've been assigned to investigate potential ties to organized crime or any other significant threats."

I leaned a little forward. "I appreciate you looking into it. So what exactly are you thinking this is? Did you find any clues?"

Hastings exchanged a glance with Carter before continuing. "The man who attacked Miss Rodriguez today, the one who was identified as part of a small street gang—there's reason to believe that this gang has connections to an international organization. Mr. Somnus, The fact that they are targeting someone with your resources and connections raises some serious red flags for us."

Charlotte shifted uneasily beside me, her gaze flicking between the two agents and me. "But Jack hasn't done anything to provoke something like this."

Agent Hastings leaned forward. "I must inform you that I'm directly involved with the FBI's international terrorism program," he said, seriously. "We have some targeted questions for you, Mr. Somnus. That's because this case may be a part of a much larger, more dangerous operation that we're currently investigating."