HLnovel Chapter 145: A Bearish Trend Line
Chapter 145: A Bearish Trend Line
The 45th floor of Apex Plaza was a vast expanse of polished glass and architectural concrete. Sun streams poured through the massive perimeter windows, illuminating rows of empty workstations and fresh leather seating that awaited a full corporate structure. It was an intimidating amount of space, a physical statement of a portfolio that had rapidly bloated far beyond its original limits.
Jake Rivers sat at the head of the conference table, a heavy silver pen rolling between his fingers. To his left, Alice tapped her stylus against a tablet, pulling up candidate profiles.
"They’re waiting in the reception lobby," Alice said, her voice echoing slightly in the quiet, cavernous room. "On paper, two of them are industry legends. Their standard packages usually require a board-level sign-off."
Jake checked the summary sheet before him. The numbers on the assets under his direct management had spiraled into an entirely different weight class. Between the twenty-percent stake in Aurelia Capitals valued at 14.7 billion, the newly acquired 21-billion-mark title to Apex Plaza itself, a sixteen-percent share of the Meridian Group worth another 50 billion, and the original 9 billion spanning the Meridian Hotel, the Brewery, the Gallery, Faceup, and various secondary equities, he was sitting on top of an empire.
He couldn’t manage a multi-billion-mark treasury alone with just Alice and a laptop anymore. Without a strict financial shield, institutions like Sterling International or rival conglomerate vultures would eventually spot an administrative oversight and squeeze them through it.
"We need an absolute filter, Alice," Jake said, his voice flat. "Send the first one in."
Jake tightened his posture, leaning back in his leather chair and letting his expression lock into a cold, completely unapproachable stare. He needed to see how these seasoned corporate veterans handled an intimidating presence.
The double glass doors swung open, and Robert Cage walked in.
He was fifty years old, immaculate in a bespoke three-piece suit, his silver-rimmed glasses perfectly catching the overhead lighting. He carried an expensive calfskin portfolio and walked with the unhurried ease of a man who spent his life telling boardrooms what to do.
"Mr. Rivers," Cage said smoothly, choosing not to wait for an invitation. He pulled out a heavy leather chair and sat down, sliding his flawlessly formatted portfolio across the stone table. "An impressive floor. Though a bit vacant at the moment."
Jake didn’t answer. He didn’t smile. Instead, a sharp warmth flared deep behind his left eye.
Hovering just above Cage’s silver hair, a jagged, glowing golden projection materialized. Jake’s hand froze on his pen.
He had seen clean, climbing bullish trend lines over Alice, Elias, and his parents. But this line was completely different. It was a dark, crimson-tinted gold, slanting sharply downward in a brutal, plunging bearish trajectory. It didn’t stutter or bounce; it simply cascaded toward the floor.
Jake looked at the bleeding red-gold line, then down at Cage’s flawless resume detailing a twenty-year career managing treasury portfolios. He didn’t know if Cage was hiding a massive personal debt, an impending corporate espionage scandal, or if he intended to siphon funds into an offshore shell company the second he got the security clearance. Jake simply crossed Cage’s name off his mental list. An executive suite handling nearly a hundred billion marks was not an active laboratory for testing liabilities.
"Your background focuses heavily on high-yield international asset shielding," Jake noted, his voice an icy monotone as he stared directly through the downward line. "Why leave a secure legacy firm for a newly structured holding company?"
Cage smiled, launching into a fluid, highly sophisticated speech about wanting to shape a ’rising powerhouse’ and optimizing liquidity lanes. To anyone else, he sounded like a financial savior. To Jake, watching the crashing line vibrate in the air, it was just a well-engineered mask.
"Thank you, Mr. Cage," Jake cut him off mid-sentence, his tone dropping any pretense of interest. "We’ll let you know if you get the position."
Cage blinked, his smooth smile fracturing for a fraction of a second before he gathered his calfskin folder, stood up, and marched out of the room with a stiff nod.
Alice looked over at Jake, her brow furrowed in confusion. "You didn’t even let him finish his breakdown on offshore tax exemption structures. He wrote the industry textbook on that."
"Next one, Alice," Jake said simply.
The second applicant was Eleanor Fall. Also around fifty, she walked into the room like a drill sergeant in a tailored navy skirt-suit. She didn’t offer a greeting; she merely slammed a thick, color-coded financial binder onto the quartzite table and sat down, her eyes sweeping across the massive empty floor with an unmistakable air of superiority.
"Mr. Rivers," Eleanor began, her voice crisp and aggressively clinical. "Your current operational tax structure across hospitality, steel logistics, and tech subsidiaries is an absolute tragedy. It’s a miracle the regulatory boards haven’t locked your accounts for a comprehensive audit. Under my command, I can consolidate your corporate tax burden by twenty-four percent within ninety days."
Jake adjusted his gaze, his left eye flashing again.
Above Eleanor’s head, a golden line appeared. It was moving upward—a bullish trend—but it was painfully, agonizingly weak. It kept flatlining horizontally, stuttering over jagged intervals before creeping up a minute fraction of an inch. It was a line that represented extreme rigidity; she could handle standard formulas, but she would completely freeze if a dynamic crisis warped the market.
Furthermore, she spoke down to him. When Jake pressed her on how she managed internal staff loyalty during an aggressive federal inquiry, she waved her hand dismissively, barely looking at him.
"Loyalty is an entry on a payroll ledger, Mr. Rivers. People don’t betray companies when their stock options are properly vested. It’s basic mathematics. I don’t deal in emotional variables."
Jake leaned back, locking his fingers together over his chest. "I see. Well, Ms. Fall, thank you for your time. If you get the position, we will get back to you."
Eleanor’s clinical smile vanished instantly. Her eyebrows snapped together, her shoulders locking. "’If I get the position’?" She stared at Jake as if he had insulted her lineage. "Mr. Rivers, I withdrew my name from consideration at a tier-one international banking conglomerate to review your operation today. I expected to finalize the terms of my executive package on the spot. My track record doesn’t require a waiting period."
Jake’s face remained a solid slab of stone. "And my hiring process doesn’t adapt to your expectations. Have a good afternoon."
Eleanor slammed her binder shut, her face flushing a deep, angry red. She stood up so violently her chair rattled against the quartzite table, and she walked out of the room without another word, her heels clicking sharply against the polished concrete.
Alice let out a heavy breath, rubbing her temples. "Jeepers, Jake. You’re completely terrifying today. That’s two of the most sought-after financial minds in the city tossed out the window. There’s only one folder left."
Jake looked down at the final profile. Rob Kingsley. Thirty-seven years old. His resume showed a decade of experience at a mid-tier regional shipping firm. Compared to the multi-billion-mark portfolios Cage and Fall had managed, his record looked entirely unremarkable.
"Let’s see him," Jake said.
When the glass doors opened this time, Rob didn’t stride or march. He walked in tentatively, his fingers locked tightly around the handle of a slightly worn briefcase. Beads of sweat were visible near his temples, and his breathing was visibly shallow.
Rob looked completely overwhelmed. In the reception lobby, he had been forced to sit directly between Robert Cage and Eleanor Fall. Recognizing them instantly from corporate journals, he had realized he was completely out of his depth. He had almost left the floor entirely before the assistant called his name.
Seeing the visible tension in the younger man, Jake did something he hadn’t done all morning. He stood up from his chair, a warm, genuine smile breaking across his face.
"Rob, right? Come on in, take a seat," Jake said, his voice completely friendly and relaxed, dropping the cold intimidation entirely.
Rob blinked, visibly thrown off by the sudden shift in tone. "Y-yes, Mr. Rivers. Thank you." He sat down, carefully setting his briefcase on the floor beside his chair, though his hands were still trembling slightly. "I appreciate the time. Though, seeing the candidates outside... I’m fully aware my background isn’t quite as... illustrious as theirs."
Jake smiled, leaning forward on his elbows. As he did, his left eye flared with a brilliant, intense warmth.
What appeared above Rob’s head wasn’t a weak or stuttering line. A vibrant, blindingly bright golden trend line shot straight up into the air, ascending at a steep, aggressive, undeniably bullish angle. It was a perfect rocket of momentum, completely flawless, without a single dip or horizontal flatline.
Jake’s pulse quickened. ’Thirty-seven years old. He wasn’t a rigid, fifty-year-old corporate dinosaur set in his ways. He had the hunger, the capacity to scale alongside a rapidly growing firm, and according to the projection, a completely golden future.’
"Forget about the people outside, Rob," Jake said, his eyes tracking the soaring line. "I don’t hire a history page. I hire the person. Tell me about a time you had to choose between protecting a company’s profit margin and protecting the integrity of your team."
Rob paused. The nervousness in his expression slowly settled, his eyes clearing as he focused on the question. He took a steadying breath. "At my last firm, the managing director ordered me to mask an operational deficit in our dry-bulk division by shifting the losses into a future equipment depreciation ledger. It was technically legal under a specific regulatory loophole, but it would have automatically canceled the quarterly performance bonuses for the entire ground-level warehouse and mechanical staff. The executive suite would have still received theirs."
"What did you do?" Jake asked, watching him intently.
"I refused," Rob said, his voice gaining a sudden, firm strength. "I told him that if the company takes a hit, we take it from the top down first. You don’t secure a structure by starving the foundation. He threatened to terminate my contract. I told him I’d leave, but I’d leave with a signed internal memo detailing the exact reporting anomaly. He backed down. The staff kept their bonuses, and we recovered the deficit naturally the next quarter through tighter fuel logistics."
Jake looked up. The roaring golden line above Rob’s head hadn’t wavered a single millimeter during the story. The man was telling the absolute truth. He possessed unyielding integrity, he was fiercely competent when backed into a corner, and his trajectory was boundless.
"Rob," Jake said, closing the physical folder on his desk with a definitive snap. "How fast can you pack up your desk at your old firm?"
Rob froze, his eyes widening in total disbelief. "I... I have a standard two-week notice period, sir, but—"
"Make it one week," Jake said, standing up and extending his hand across the massive table. "Welcome to Golden Investments. You’re my new CFO."
Rob stared at Jake’s hand for a second before a massive wave of relief washed over his face. He stood up, shaking Jake’s hand with a grip that was finally steady and certain. "You won’t regret this, Mr. Rivers. I give you my word."
"I know I won’t," Jake said.
As Rob left the conference room, his step noticeably lighter, Alice turned to Jake with her mouth slightly open. "Jake... his portfolio experience is literally a fraction of Eleanor’s."
"Eleanor would have tried to dictate my movements, and Cage would have exposed us to a hostile litigation risk the second things got difficult," Jake said, walking over to the massive perimeter window and looking out over the expanding skyline of the financial district. "Rob has something you can’t write into a resume, Alice. He’s got real momentum. And with nearly a hundred billion marks to protect, that’s exactly who we need steering the treasury."
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