Chapter 362: Go Back for Treatment

[Chapter 362: Going Back to Heal]

"Of course, it's the skyrocketing international oil prices," Chris answered without hesitation. "That's your final guess, Eric, but that's impossible. Do you know what Iraq's invasion of Kuwait means? These two countries hold one-fifth of the world's known oil reserves. Once Iraq annexes Kuwait, Saddam could manipulate international oil prices at will, effectively making himself a public enemy. The entire world wouldn't stand for it. Even if he's a madman, he wouldn't do something like that."

"Since everyone thinks that way, I want to take a gamble. I bet there will be a war in the Middle East within three months. Chris, if you're not willing to help me, then I'll just open an account at the New York Mercantile Exchange by myself. You wouldn't just sit there and let me, an outsider, get ripped off, would you?" By the end, Eric tried to play the emotional card.

Chris listened to Eric's stubborn tone and felt a mix of exasperation and amusement. "Eric, your net worth has already hit the billion-dollar mark. You can buy anything you want; is it really necessary to take this kind of risk? You just said you were pulling all your companies' liquid funds. If you lose all that money, it would be a huge mess. The incident at the beginning of the year just happened. If the seven major studios knew Firefly's liquidity was drying up, they'd pounce on the opportunity without hesitation. The business world is ruthless; don't expect anyone else to show mercy."

Eric confidently replied, "Why not think positively? What if I win the bet?"

Chris smiled and played with a pen in his hand, gently suggesting, "How about you take a couple of days to cool off? Go have some fun in New York or take a vacation?"

"Chris, I'm perfectly calm. I've made my decision. If you don't agree, I'm just going to go find a futures broker and do it myself," Eric said as he started to rise.

Seeing that Eric was serious, Chris waved his hand resignedly. "Okay, okay, I agree. Sit back down."

The two talked over some details, and Chris called the company's financial manager. "Eric, why don't you go with Weber to handle the transfer procedures? I'll find you later."

Once Eric left with the financial manager, Chris picked up the phone and dialed Jeffrey's number. "Dad, has Eric talked to you about his plans?"

After a few words on the other end, Chris added, "It seems Eric hasn't filled you in, but this is too complex to explain over the phone. I think you should come to New York. Eric... he's a bit worked up; I can't reason with him."

After a brief conversation, Chris hung up and exited the office.

...

Emily Brighton couldn't help but peek at the three people sitting in the living room. It was Eric's second day in New York, and after completing filming for Basic Instinct, Jeffrey had returned to his farm in Maryland to take a break. Less than a week later, the old man rushed to New York due to a phone call from his son.

At that moment, the three of them sat in silence. Jeffrey had already spent an hour sincerely trying to persuade Eric, who showed no signs of relenting. The atmosphere was awkward, and Chris suddenly broke the silence, asking his girlfriend in the kitchen, "Emily, is dinner ready?"

"Yeah, it's all set," Emily quickly replied.

"How about we eat first?" Chris tentatively suggested.

Eric had no intention of creating a rift with Jeffrey. He smiled and said, "Jeffrey, let's eat first. After dinner, you can keep trying to persuade me. Don't let yourself go hungry."

Jeffrey grumbled and walked toward the dining room, while Eric shrugged at Chris, who let out a resigned sigh.

Emily Brighton was usually quite talkative, and at another time, she would have found a couple of topics to liven up the dinner atmosphere. However, at this moment, she quietly sat beside Chris, wordlessly eating her meal.

After some time of silent eating, Jeffrey finally softened his tone. "Eric, you won't be able to keep this a secret. If you want to trade oil futures, that's fine. But you can't put all your money into it and definitely shouldn't use loans. If others find out you lost everything, they'll seize the opportunity to strangle Firefly."

"Jeffrey, why can't you think positively? What if I make a profit?"

"There's no way that could happen. This is Wall Street, not Hollywood; we're all amateurs here."

Chris chimed in, "Yeah, Eric, Wall Street is the territory of the financial sharks. Futures trading is essentially a double-sided betting contract. If you make money, it means someone else loses. The more you win, the more they lose. Do you really think your opponents will be willing to let that happen? When I worked at Morgan Stanley, I saw firsthand how these big investors manipulated the financial markets for their own benefit. And don't even bring up the SEC; even the FBI has trouble dealing with these giants."

"Our two hundred million dollar stake isn't worth their attention," Eric said with a shrug. "Besides, if conflict breaks out in the Middle East, oil prices will soar. Any tricks from the financial giants will just be swept away by the tide."

Jeffrey and his son exchanged glances and fell silent again. Eric didn't want to dwell on the matter. Looking over at Emily Brighton, he remembered last Thanksgiving when the couple had been in a spat. Now they seemed to be back on good terms.

"Emily, has your family's fashion company gone public yet? I remember you mentioning it last Thanksgiving."

Emily cast a wistful glance at Chris beside her and shook her head. "Not for another three years, I'm afraid."

"That's alright. Once I make money this time, if you're interested, I can invest with you," Eric said with a smile.

Emily chuckled and responded, "Sure, that sounds great," but didn't take it seriously. Having spent so much time with Chris, she knew just how risky the futures market could be. Eric could be throwing in a small fortune, but the chance of actually gaining anything back was slim.

"Eric, where are you staying now?" Jeffrey asked.

"I booked a suite at the Soho Grand on Sixth Avenue. I plan to stay there for a while."

Jeffrey wasn't familiar with Sixth Avenue, so he looked at Chris, who explained, "Sixth Avenue is quite close to the New York Mercantile Exchange."

Jeffrey sighed, realizing that Eric had even thought of that detail. This situation left no room for retreat. "Chris, you should set aside the investment company business for now and focus on helping Eric as much as possible."

"I understand, Dad," Chris nodded.

...

In the following days, Chris began helping Eric hire traders and set up his account. Jeffrey stayed close to the two young men, and naturally, there were arguments mainly over the margin for futures trading.

Eric wanted the margin set at 5%, allowing for twenty times leverage which would ramp his $200 million investment up to 4 billion. However, Chris and Jeffrey believed it should be set at 20%, providing only five times leverage.

Eric knew the father-son duo was looking out for him and didn't stubbornly insist on his way. After a morning of debate, they eventually met halfway at 10% margin and ten times leverage.

By July, oil prices on the futures market were rising again, nearing $19 a barrel.

Eric and Chris hastily assembled a trading team to start making trades.

Due to the situation in the Middle East, many speculators had dived into the oil futures market. Just at the New York Mercantile Exchange, the daily trading volume for oil futures passed 100,000 contracts (with each contract representing 1,000 barrels), amounting to a daily transaction of $2 billion.

Given the current situation in the Middle East, many people were betting on oil prices either falling back to $14, as they had months before, or continuing to rise.

As a result, Eric's bullish team didn't stand out much. To avoid drawing too much attention, Chris kept their daily trading volume around $10 million. At this rate, it was enough to spend the entire $200 million before August, and Eric didn't raise any objections.

As Chris had previously mentioned, once oil prices climbed to $19 a barrel, they didn't rise significantly anymore but began fluctuating between $18 and $20. Jeffrey, worried for both young men, was even more anxious than they were. Although the futures contracts Eric bought had delivery dates in October, the profits and losses from futures trading were settled daily. Each day after the market closed, Jeffrey sat with a calculator, working out how much they made or lost.

Concerned that the stress might cause the old man health issues, Eric and Chris urged Jeffrey multiple times to return to the Maryland farm, but nothing worked.

...

After another long day of trading, Eric returned to his hotel, showered, and was about to make a few calls back to Los Angeles when he heard the doorbell. Despite knowing plenty of people in New York, very few knew his hotel address.

Curious, he opened the door, and a petite figure jumped up to wrap around his waist like a koala bear.

This situation was inappropriate, so Eric quickly stepped back into the room and shut the door. Once safely inside, he pulled Drew off him and asked, "Weren't you going on vacation in Hawaii? I thought you said you'd be gone for weeks. What are you doing here?"

The girl let Eric toss her onto the couch, where she propped herself up with her chin resting on her rounded palm, sparkling eyes fixed on Eric, as she teased, "Jeffrey said you went crazy and wanted me to convince you to go back to Los Angeles for treatment."

*****

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