World's Richest Man: I Leaped Across Time

I finally found a parking spot at the airport, which, of course, wasn't free.

I hastily paid for the spot and grabbed my things.

The usual rush of people hit me as I entered the terminal.

I made my way to a small airport café, where I ordered a quick snack: a greasy bacon, egg, and cheese croissant, along with a large coffee.

As I munched on the croissant, my phone rang again.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Hello. This is Claire Thompson from Bank of America again. Could I use a moment of your time?"

I swallowed the last bit of croissant and took a sip of coffee, clearing my throat. "Sure. Go ahead."

"Great. I'm calling in regard to the recent large deposit to your account. I wanted to inform you that with this deposit, your balance has now reached a level that qualifies you for our exclusive Diamond Membership."

"I'm aware of that," I said. "But I'm pretty sure I need to maintain that balance for more than three months..."

"You're right," Claire replied. "But since your deposit was so substantial, we're offering you the benefits of the Diamond Membership right away. I'd love to tell you how this could be really valuable for you."

I set my coffee cup down. "Alright. What are the benefits?"

"One of the standout perks is our premium credit card benefits," Claire began warmly. "With the Diamond tier, you get a 75% rewards bonus on eligible Bank of America credit cards. So, whether you're shopping or dining out, you'll get even more value from your everyday spending on top of the usual."

"When it comes to savings, the Diamond Membership gives you a 20% interest rate boost on your Advantage Savings account. This means your money will grow faster compared to standard savings accounts."

"You'll also enjoy no monthly maintenance fees, and if you're thinking about a mortgage, there's a 0.25% interest rate reduction."

Her tone became more personal and engaging. "Since you seem to travel a lot, I should mention our travel benefits. With the Diamond Membership, you'll have unlimited no-fee transactions at ATMs worldwide. Plus, for travel and dining, you'll earn 1.5% cash back and extra points that can be redeemed for various rewards."

"I really think you'll find these benefits quite handy." She concluded.

I leaned back, considering how to respond. "Thanks, Claire. For now, I might have a more profitable way to invest my capital, but I will definitely use all the other benefits. You can send me your credit cards. I will use them well."

"Glad to hear it!" Claire replied. "I'll follow up with the welcome packet soon. If you have any questions, just let me know. I'll be personally responsible for providing you with all the details. Enjoy your travels and have a great day!"

'I'm beginning to escape the Matthew effect', I thought.

This theory has shown that people's social or economic success has historically been directly related to their initial level of popularity, friends, and wealth...

After leaving the café, I made my way to the boarding gate.

By 9 a.m., I was boarding the plane to Boston.

I was flying economy class—there was no need to spend extra money unnecessarily.

Every penny counted, and I knew how quickly it could turn into thousands.

I landed at Boston Logan Airport before 1 p.m. and took a taxi from East Boston Memorial Park to Boston Common Park.

It was just 6 miles from the airport.

I paid $20 for the cab fare and got out.

On my way there, I had a few hours to think about how to approach this and I was now ready to act.

I needed a place to meet with Derec that does not have cameras, or at least somewhere that does not draw attention to itself and would not link me to the company if someone looked into it.

First, I needed to find an ATM.

On the way to the ATM, I passed by the building where my office was located—the 26th floor of a tall skyscraper on Court Street.

Opposite the building was a spacious open area with a pocket park in the center. It had some trees, a few benches, and a handful of teenagers showing off on their skateboards.

'Targets located.' I thought.

I made my way to an ATM and withdrew two $50 bills.

Then, I pulled out a piece of paper from my suitcase and wrote:

"To Derec Johnson,

Christopher Vanderbilt,

Avenue One Restaurant,

Today, 2:30 p.m."

I stowed my pen back in my suitcase and walked back to the pocket park.

There were three boys wearing baggy t-shirts that hung loosely over their low-slung pants and baseball caps worn backwards or tilted to the side. Their skateboards scraped against the pavement, the occasional flick of a board sending them spinning into the air.

I walked up to them.

"Hey, what's up guys? Want to make fifty bucks?" I said, taking out the $50 bill.

The boys stopped skating and looked over at me.

"For what?" One of them asked.

I took out the paper from my pocket and pointed to the skyscraper behind them. "I need to get this piece of paper to the 26th floor, to Immortal Investments."

They glanced at each other and then back at me. "Sure, bro. But you give the cash first."

"Of course," I said, handing over the fifty-dollar bill along with the piece of paper.

The boy who took the money smirked, "Thanks for the cash, man, you can go now."

Ahh...

He laughed, "Just kidding, bro. Don't sweat. Immortal Investments, right?"

He left his skateboard with his friends and headed off, crossing the street.

I took out the other fifty-dollar bill and handed it to the remaining two. "Here's something for you guys too, so you don't fight over it."

The boys stared at the bill, wide-eyed. "Holy fuck! Are you rich, man?" one of them asked in disbelief.

I chuckled. "Anyway, enjoy it, guys."

With that, I left them and walked to the restaurant that I specified in the message.

Derec was working alone at the moment, so all I had to do now was hope that he wouldn't dismiss the guy without even looking at the message.

15 minutes later, I entered the restaurant, it was around 2:10 p.m.

It was a mid-range restaurant with a bar and a line of wooden tables facing antic windows, which had bronze leather sofas on one side and chairs on the other.

I sat down on the sofa in the furthest corner and ordered pork sausage with crispy potatoes and chilled juice.

20 minutes later, with a welcoming ding of the door, a man in his early 30s entered the restaurant.

He wore a gray suit, his hair was perfectly styled and there was a detailed barber's touch to his beard.

An exemplary look of a successful businessman.

It was Derec Johnson.

He looked around.

The restaurant wasn't packed; there were only a few people, so I raised my hand and looked at him.

He caught my gaze, hesitated for a moment, then cautiously walked over.

He stopped on the opposite side of the small square table and stared at me.