Blackstone Code

Chapter 181:

Within the three major exchanges, there were counters operated by the six largest banks in the Baylor Federation. Financial investors often required immediate funds, and leaving the exchange to visit a bank, only to return with a receipt, could mean missing crucial opportunities.

Standing in front of the ProsperaCorp bank counter, the bank teller glanced at him briefly before looking away, maintaining a perfunctory smile that barely concealed her fatigue. Working at the exchange was demanding, and any mistake could result in job termination or even legal consequences.

There were two types of people that would be assigned here: those with connections and those without. Those with connections would become managers, overseeing the branch with ease, earning excellent evaluations, and quickly getting promoted. The others, without such support, would serve the brokers directly.

Frank's broker opened his briefcase, revealing a neatly arranged stack of bonds. The bonds were in red, green, and purple, each adorned with a prominent "100" in the center, indicating their hundred-buck face value. According to the instructions on the back, the holder could redeem them at the bank based on the issuance rate. However, they were essentially worthless now.

The teller, momentarily taken aback, asked, "Sir, what do you mean?" Her focus sharpened, and she adjusted her posture.

The broker sighed, "I want to redeem these bonds."

The teller's expression grew peculiar, and she shook her head. "Sorry, sir. We've already announced that ProsperaCorp no longer handles the redemption or exchange of foreign bonds. You might want to try elsewhere."

A nearby bank teller smirked, expressing disdain for such evasive tactics, though she would likely do the same shortly.

The broker didn't leave immediately. Leaning forward with his hands on the counter, he said, "Listen, this concerns the safety of my wife and child. These bonds were sold by your bank..."

These bonds were sold by ProsperaCorp through the broker's company, with a seven percent commission on the face value. Essentially, for every million bucks of bonds sold, the broker's company earned seventy thousand in fees from ProsperaCorp and an additional two percent from the buyer, which was close to ten percent.

When clients wished to sell these bonds, the company could charge another two percent, or four percent overall from the transaction. The more transactions, the more commission the financial company would earn. This incentivized brokers to encourage frequent trading.

The company bore no risk, not even a nominal one, which was why more financial companies had sprung up in Bupayne recently. As long as they had trading seats, they needed not worry about those who wanted to make money in the stock and securities markets not joining them.

Ordinary people did not have priority trading rights. In the past, when financial markets were underdeveloped and not prosperous, they could still trade normally. Now, trading matches would occur only within trading seats. Apart from signing up as clients of financial companies, they had no other means.

With clients, financial companies would become the most valued partners of brokerages and banks, thereby continuously obtaining more and more profits.

In fact, small yellow sheets and initial public offerings followed a similar approach. Issuers must offer higher rebates to these financial companies to incentivize them to heavily recommend these stocks, aiming to achieve the myth of multiplying market value on the first day of listing.

What happend afterward would be another matter. The fact that this "legal scam" system of financial companies could thrive to this day without any risk of collapse showed that they long had a comprehensive plan to deal with ordinary people.

Yet this time, the broker faced an unyielding Frank who solely blamed him, saying, "You told me to buy; I'm only dealing with you!"

The teller shook her head. "Sir, I'm just a regular teller. Decisions like these are beyond my authority. You might want to consider other options. And if your family's safety is at risk, I suggest calling the police."

The broker closed his briefcase in disappointment. In fact, he had known from the beginning that this would be the outcome. How could an organisation of the bank's magnitude pay attention to a worthless little broker like him?

However, knowing something was one thing, and personally experiencing such disregard was quite another.

He grumbled under his breath as he carried his suitcase towards his company's "trading hall." On the eighth floor of the EaseLink Exchange, they had rented half a floor to serve as the company's facade.

Sometimes, when important clients wanted to visit the exchange in person, they would be accommodated here, where there was also a public display board, constantly scrolling and synchronizing with the trading hall's display board.

If the clients wanted a more direct experience of actual trading, they could stand by the trading hall and watch the impressive scene of traders continuously waving their arms and shouting as they manually matched trades in the spacious trading hall.

Before the morning trading session began, only the cleaning staff were tidying up the room. Those who could come here were large account holders who had opened accounts with their company and operated with over a hundred thousand bucks. Naturally, these individuals received preferential treatment.

The broker entered the manager's office with a stern face. The manager was somewhat surprised by his arrival but greeted him warmly.

Frank's broker was one of the more important business managers at this financial firm. Like he had mentioned to Frank, he had a whole phone book full of friends like him in his pocket, which had provided him with numerous opportunities and wealth.

"What's the matter?" The manager set aside his work, smiling as he looked at him.

The broker pursed his lips. "I've run into a bit of trouble."

"Tell me about it. Maybe I can offer you some advice," the manager said warmly, maintaining his approachability.

The broker recounted everything he had encountered, including Frank's ruthless hostage-taking of his family last night and demanding that he convert those bonds into cash and redeposit them into his account.

Towards the end, the broker was almost pleading with the manager. "After all, those bonds were sold to him by us. Canceling this transaction wouldn't incur any losses for us, and we could even pocket a three percent fee from canceling the deal with Frank..."

As he continued, he found himself increasingly convinced of his reasoning. "Perhaps deducting our losses directly from Frank's account is the way to go. No, that's exactly what we should do!"

The manager, still smiling, listened until the broker finished. Then he pointed to the door. "I suggest you leave my office immediately and go to the police. What you're saying is unrealistic."

"You need to understand that once a transaction is completed, there's no possibility of 'retracting' it. The bank won't agree to such actions, and we'll end up stuck with these bonds ourselves."

"When others find out about this, more and more people will come after us. At that time, how are we going to handle them?"

After saying that, his tone softened slightly. "What you should do now is call the police. They can help you resolve everything. Do you need me to call the police for you?"

The manager picked up the phone, his finger hovering over the rotary dial, while the broker's expression grew even more grim.

Actually, he was well aware that it wasn't yet time for the final settlement. In other words, even if Frank's bonds had returned to the pool, it wouldn't have affected the ultimate outcome. However, the company refused to do so.

The broker's face had already turned extremely grim, but the manager's following words immediately extinguished all his anger in an instant. "You've earned well over the years. Twenty thousand shouldn't be a big deal for you. Why not solve it yourself?"

The manager's words gnawed at the broker's heart like poison. His face turned deathly pale in an instant.

The broker still had over three hundred thousand bucks in his account. He also traded stocks himself, but he was much shrewder than his clients. Moreover, he was the type who occasionally had insider information.

He was cautious when trading stocks, often waiting for precise information before acting, knowing that gains were almost certain once he had it.

Of course, there were occasional losses, but overall, he always made money.

He bought a large house, purchased a luxury car, and enjoyed a comfortable life, all built upon the laughter and pain of others.

Now the manager's words also caused turmoil his heart. Of course, family was the most important, but so was money.

The manager knew his words had an effect. He hung up the phone and comforted, "Perhaps you should reconsider. From what I've seen, there's only about two hundred thousand in bonds here. You can come up with that money to secure your family's safety, or call the police to handle it. The choice is yours, but don't think about letting the company to handle it."

The broker, in a daze, found himself outside EaseLink Exchange, unaware of how he left the office. As the opening bell approached, he saw elite members of society, dressed similarly to him, converging on the exchange. Yet, what once thrilled him now felt hollow and stifling.

Later, at the police station, he resolved to take action and report everything. Soon after, a swarm of journalists descended, drawn by his promise of a bombshell revelation.

He was merely an innocent victim ensnared in this debacle. His company had ways to assist but chose not to extend a hand. The banks showed indifference to his plight, watching him spiral into despair.Please vote for this novel at /series/blackstone-code/There are advance chapters available nowAccess will be granted 24 hours after the donationTier 1: 7 Advance chapters Link

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