Rebirth:Billionaire's second chance

The dimly lit confinement cell felt colder than ever, the dampness seeping into the thin fabric of his once-expensive suit. Aryan lay on the cot, staring up at the cracked ceiling. His eyes, once filled with ambition and fire, now dulled by years of disappointment, flickered with faint traces of regret. It was over. Sixty-four years of life—reduced to this moment, this emptiness.

He was the CEO of one of the largest financial firms in the world, yet now, no one stood by him. Once, the world knew his name, admired him, feared him even. But all of that collapsed in an instant when the Enron scandal broke. A two-hundred-billion-dollar fraud. The blame landed squarely on him. The Sackler family, the real masterminds behind the scheme, had effortlessly thrown him under the bus to save themselves. They had used him like a pawn, and he had let them.

Aryan's mind churned through the events that led to this moment, his breaths becoming shallow. He had climbed the ladder so fast, consumed by his ambition, by his desire for more. Wealth. Power. Fame. He had it all—until it was ripped from his hands. Now, all that remained were the cold, unforgiving walls of this prison cell.

"If I had known… If I had another chance…" he whispered into the void, his voice trembling with regret. His vision blurred as tears welled up in his eyes. He could barely remember the last time he cried. Perhaps it was when his father passed away, or maybe when his mother succumbed to illness. He hadn't been there for them. He was too busy chasing money, flying across the world, attending meetings, negotiating deals with sharks.

He had traded his soul for wealth.

Suddenly, pain shot through his chest, sharp and unforgiving. He gasped, clutching his heart. It felt like a vice tightening around his ribcage, squeezing the life out of him. His body convulsed, and he collapsed onto the cold, hard floor. He knew this was the end—death, the final punishment for a life full of missteps.

As his vision darkened, one last image filled his mind: the face of his mother, her warm smile and kind eyes. She had warned him once. She had told him not to lose himself in the pursuit of material things. He hadn't listened. He had ignored the most important voices, the ones that truly cared for him.

"I wish…" His thoughts faded. Silence.

The darkness swallowed him whole.

---

The sound of birds chirping jolted Aryan awake. His eyes fluttered open, squinting against the bright sunlight pouring through a window. His breath caught in his throat. Wasn't he supposed to be… dead?

He blinked several times, disoriented. This wasn't the cold, suffocating prison cell he remembered. He lay on a soft bed, the familiar scent of jasmine filling the air. Slowly, Aryan pushed himself up, his heart racing. He was in a bedroom—his bedroom. The one from his childhood in Guwahati. The light blue walls, the wooden wardrobe, the small study desk—everything was just as he remembered it from decades ago.

"What the hell?" he muttered, his voice hoarse.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, almost stumbling as his muscles felt strangely different, more youthful. His hands trembled as he raised them to his face, tracing the smooth skin. No wrinkles. No signs of aging.

Aryan rushed to the mirror by the door, his eyes wide with disbelief. Staring back at him was the face of a 7-year-old boy, his own face from decades ago. His hair was thick and jet-black, his skin free from the lines of stress and time. He could hardly believe it.

"I'm… young again?" he whispered, his mind struggling to comprehend the reality before him. He reached out to touch the mirror, needing to feel something tangible.

Suddenly, memories began flooding his mind—his childhood, his first job, his rise to power, the scandal, the betrayal. And the most vivid memory of all: his death. Aryan staggered back, gripping the edge of the desk to steady himself. It all came rushing back, the agony of his final moments, the regret that had consumed him.

"This… this can't be real." He sank into the desk chair, breathing heavily. His mind was racing, trying to make sense of the impossible. Was this a dream? A hallucination? Had his death been a nightmare?

No. It felt too real. Too vivid. The soft fabric of his shirt, the warmth of the sunlight, the smell of the fresh air—it all felt real. Too real.

He reached for the calendar on his desk, flipping it open to the current date. May 12th, 2008. His heart skipped a beat. 2008. He had just been reborn right before the global financial crisis, right before the world's markets would collapse, right before one of the biggest opportunities in history.

Aryan's mind snapped into focus. This wasn't a dream. This was a second chance. A chance to rewrite everything. To take a different path. To use his knowledge and experience to build an empire even bigger than before. This time, he would make sure no one could betray him. No one could use him.

His lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile. He wasn't going to make the same mistakes. Not this time.

"This is it," he muttered to himself, the excitement in his voice rising. "This is my chance to do everything right."

He stood up, pacing the room, his mind already working at lightning speed. The 2008 financial crisis was just a few months away. He knew exactly which companies would fall, which industries would collapse, and most importantly, which stocks and assets would skyrocket in value after the dust settled. He had the knowledge of a lifetime, the advantage of foresight.

But first, he needed capital. He had no connections, no vast amounts of money yet. However, he did have one asset: his maternal grandfather.

His grandfather had always been a careful man, a retired bank manager in America. He was one of the few people in Aryan's life who had never been swayed by greed or fame. Aryan remembered their conversations, the stories of Wall Street, of business titans who had risen to unimaginable heights by seizing the right opportunities.

"I'll need him to trust me," Aryan murmured, a plan already beginning to take shape. If he could convince his grandfather to lend him even a small amount—$5,000 would do—he could start trading. Futures, options, and precious metals—he knew exactly where to place his bets. He could turn that small sum into millions, even before the crisis hit.

There was no time to waste. Every day counted. Every move would need to be calculated. But Aryan knew one thing for sure—he wouldn't fail again. This was more than just a second chance at life. It was his opportunity to dominate the world.

And this time, he was going to play the game on his terms.

Aryan sat quietly in the room, his mind racing despite the calm surroundings. His youthful body felt strange, almost unfamiliar. He clenched his fists, feeling the smoothness of his small hands. His legs barely touched the floor as he sat on the edge of the bed. Seven years old—a long way from the man he had once been, but the memories of his previous life flooded him, sharp and clear. It was as though he was an old man trapped in a child's body.

He looked out of the window, past the familiar sight of the narrow lanes of Guwahati and the distant Brahmaputra River flowing in the background. It felt like a lifetime since he had been here, surrounded by the simplicity of his childhood. But now, every detail seemed significant. Every small piece of this world was a reminder of how much time he had ahead of him, how much opportunity lay at his feet.

For a moment, Aryan let his mind wander back to the last moments of his previous life. The pain, the betrayal. The crushing weight of regret. He would never forget that feeling, the desperation of wanting just one more chance. And now, the universe had given it to him.

He got up from the bed and paced the room, thinking about the path forward. At the age of seven, no one would take him seriously. His parents, his teachers, everyone would see him as just a child. But he wasn't. He was a man with over sixty years of life experience, a man who had seen the rise and fall of empires, who had made and lost billions.

His grandfather's influence would be critical in the years to come, but he couldn't reveal his knowledge too quickly. People would ask too many questions. He needed to play the long game.

A knock at the door snapped Aryan out of his thoughts.

"Aryan? Breakfast is ready," his mother's voice called from the hallway.

For a moment, Aryan just stood there, frozen. His mother. The woman he had neglected in his previous life, the one person who had always believed in him. He swallowed hard, a wave of guilt washing over him. But this was a second chance. A chance to make things right, not just in business, but with the people who mattered.

"Coming, mom," Aryan called back, his voice higher-pitched and softer than he was used to.

He opened the door and stepped into the hallway, the warmth of the house wrapping around him like a familiar blanket. His mother, with her gentle smile and kind eyes, was standing at the end of the hall. She looked younger than he remembered—stronger, healthier.

As he walked toward her, Aryan felt a lump in his throat. He wanted to tell her everything, to apologize for not being there when she needed him. But he couldn't. Not yet.

"Good morning, sweetheart," she said, bending down to kiss him on the forehead. "Your father's already at work, but he said he'll be home early today."

Aryan nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. He had taken his family for granted in his previous life, always too busy, too distracted by the pursuit of wealth. This time, he promised himself, he wouldn't make that mistake. He would protect them. No matter what.

They walked into the kitchen, where the smell of fresh roti and sabzi filled the air. His mother set a plate in front of him, and for a moment, Aryan just sat there, taking in the simplicity of the scene. This was home. This was where it all began.

As he ate in silence, his mind was already working through the details of his future plans. The 2008 financial crisis was months away, and he had to be ready. But at the age of seven, he couldn't just dive into the markets. He needed to be smart, to lay the groundwork now so that when the time came, he would be prepared to strike.

---

After breakfast, Aryan returned to his room, closing the door behind him. He grabbed a notebook from his desk and began scribbling down ideas, his handwriting wobbly but determined. He listed the companies he knew would rise and fall during the financial crisis, the sectors that would be hit the hardest, and the strategies he could use to take advantage of the chaos.

The names of future giants like Apple, Amazon, and Tesla filled the page, along with detailed notes about stock prices, market trends, and investment opportunities. He could almost feel the excitement bubbling inside him. This time, he wouldn't be scrambling for scraps after the fact. He would be ahead of the curve, riding the wave of history as it unfolded.

But first, he needed capital.

His mind turned to his maternal grandfather, the retired bank manager in the United States. Aryan knew his grandfather had always been a careful man, cautious with money, but with a sharp eye for potential. Convincing him to part with even a small amount of cash wouldn't be easy, but Aryan had one advantage: he knew exactly what was coming.

He put the notebook aside and sat at his desk, thinking through his approach. He couldn't just walk up to his grandfather and ask for money—not without a plan. He needed to demonstrate that he had a solid understanding of finance, that he could be trusted to make smart investments. But how could a seven-year-old explain that to a man who had worked in the financial sector for decades?

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts again.

"Aryan?" It was his mother. "We're going to video call Grandpa today. He wanted to see you."

Aryan's heart skipped a beat. Perfect timing.

"Okay, mom," he called back, a smile forming on his lips. He wasn't ready to ask for the money yet, but he could start laying the groundwork. The call would be the perfect opportunity to test the waters, to see how much he could hint at without raising too much suspicion.

---

Later that afternoon, Aryan sat in front of the old computer in the living room, waiting for the video call to connect. His mother stood beside him, adjusting the camera and fussing over his hair.

"There you go, looking handsome," she said, smiling down at him.

Aryan gave her a small smile in return, but his mind was focused on the task ahead. The screen flickered to life, and soon, the familiar face of his grandfather appeared. He looked older than Aryan remembered, but still sharp, with his trademark suit and neatly combed hair.

"Aryan, my boy!" his grandfather's voice boomed through the speakers. "How's my favorite grandson doing?"

"I'm doing well, Grandpa," Aryan replied, keeping his tone light. "How's everything in America?"

"Oh, you know, same old, same old. The markets are a bit shaky these days, but I suppose that's nothing new," his grandfather said, a hint of concern in his voice.

Aryan's ears perked up at that. The markets. His grandfather was already paying attention. Good. That would make things easier when the time came.

"I was reading about that, actually," Aryan said, trying to sound as casual as possible. "There's a lot happening in the U.S. economy, isn't there?"

His grandfather raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Oh? You've been reading about the economy? Quite the young scholar, aren't you?"

Aryan smiled. "Yeah, I've always been interested in how things work. I've been reading about different companies, stocks, and investments. It's really fascinating."

His grandfather chuckled. "Well, well, you're starting young. That's good. Maybe one day you'll follow in my footsteps and work in the financial sector."

Aryan's smile widened. "Maybe, Grandpa. Who knows? I might even become the wealthiest man alive."

His grandfather laughed, but there was a glint of approval in his eyes. "Ambitious, aren't we? Well, if anyone can do it, it's you, Aryan."

Aryan's heart raced with excitement. He was planting the seeds, slowly but surely. And when the time was right, he would make his move.

The conversation with his grandfather stayed with Aryan for the rest of the day. It had been brief, just a few passing words about the markets and his casual interest in finance, but it had been enough to plant the idea in his grandfather's mind. Aryan could tell that his grandfather had been impressed, even if he hadn't shown it outright. This was just the beginning.

As the sun began to set over the hills of Guwahati, Aryan sat on the balcony outside his room, staring at the horizon. The warm glow of the setting sun bathed the city in shades of orange and pink, and for a moment, Aryan felt a sense of peace. He was home, in a way he hadn't been for years.

But that peace was fleeting. His mind quickly returned to the task at hand. He had less than a year before the 2008 financial crisis hit the United States, and if he wanted to be ready, he needed to start preparing now. The markets were volatile, but Aryan knew exactly how things would unfold. He had seen it all before. He just needed the capital to take advantage of it.

His plan was simple: he would convince his grandfather to lend him $5,000. It wasn't much in the grand scheme of things, but it was enough to get him started. With that money, he could open a trading account in a brokerage firm and begin making small, strategic trades. He knew which stocks would crash and which ones would soar once the crisis hit. All he had to do was time his moves perfectly.

But first, he needed to play the role of a curious, eager-to-learn child. He couldn't just walk up to his grandfather and ask for the money outright. No, he had to be subtle. He had to prove that he was knowledgeable enough to handle the responsibility. That meant spending the next few months learning as much as he could about the current state of the economy and demonstrating that knowledge whenever he got the chance.

---

Over the next few weeks, Aryan threw himself into his studies with a newfound sense of purpose. He devoured every book he could find on finance, economics, and stock market trading, even though many of the concepts were things he already knew from his past life. But it was important to refresh his memory and make sure he was up-to-date with the current state of the world.

His parents noticed the change in him almost immediately.

"Aryan, you've been studying a lot lately," his father said one evening as they sat down for dinner. "I'm impressed, but you should also take time to play and relax. You're still a child, after all."

Aryan smiled, his fork hovering over his plate. "I know, Dad. But I've been really interested in economics lately. I've been reading about how the stock market works and how people invest their money."

His father chuckled, shaking his head. "Stock market, huh? That's pretty advanced for a seven-year-old. What brought this on?"

Aryan hesitated for a moment, carefully choosing his words. "I've just been curious, I guess. Grandpa talks about it a lot, and I thought it would be fun to learn more about it. You know, maybe one day I'll be able to invest and help the family."

His father raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Well, that's very thoughtful of you. But let's not get ahead of ourselves. You've got plenty of time to think about that kind of thing."

Aryan nodded, keeping his expression neutral. He knew his father didn't take him seriously right now, and that was fine. He wasn't trying to convince his father. His focus was on his grandfather, and building his credibility in small, subtle ways over time.

---

A month later, Aryan sat in front of the computer again, another video call with his grandfather on the horizon. His mother hovered nearby, checking the camera and adjusting the settings, but Aryan barely noticed her. His mind was racing, thinking about how to steer the conversation toward finance without coming across as too eager.

The call connected, and once again, his grandfather's face appeared on the screen, smiling warmly.

"Aryan, my boy! How are you?" his grandfather asked, his voice booming through the speakers.

"I'm good, Grandpa," Aryan replied, his voice steady. "How's everything in America?"

"Oh, the usual. The markets are still all over the place, but that's nothing new," his grandfather said with a chuckle. "How's school going? Your mother tells me you've been reading up on finance. Quite the little businessman, aren't you?"

Aryan smiled, his heart skipping a beat. This was the opening he had been waiting for.

"Yeah, I've been really interested in how the markets work," Aryan said, keeping his tone casual. "I've been reading about some companies and how they're doing, especially with everything going on in the economy."

His grandfather leaned forward, intrigued. "Oh? Which companies have you been looking at?"

Aryan's mind raced. He couldn't reveal too much, not yet. But he needed to show that he had been paying attention.

"Well, I've been reading about the housing market in the U.S. and how a lot of people are getting loans they can't afford. It seems like a risky situation, and I was wondering how that might affect the banks and other companies."

His grandfather's eyes widened slightly, clearly impressed. "You're right. That's a very astute observation, Aryan. The housing market is in a precarious position right now, and if things continue the way they are, we could see some serious trouble in the financial sector."

Aryan nodded, feeling a surge of confidence. His grandfather was buying into it. He was listening.

"I was thinking," Aryan continued carefully, "if the market does crash, there might be opportunities to invest in some companies when their stock prices drop. I've read that during times of crisis, some investors make a lot of money by buying stocks when they're low."

His grandfather laughed, clearly delighted by Aryan's enthusiasm. "You're absolutely right, my boy. That's exactly how some of the greatest fortunes are made. It's all about timing and knowing when to strike."

Aryan smiled, his heart pounding in his chest. He had laid the groundwork. Now, he just needed to wait for the right moment to make his move.

---

As the weeks passed, Aryan continued his quiet preparations. He spent hours each day studying the markets, reading reports, and analyzing the trends he remembered from his previous life. The clock was ticking, and the financial crisis was approaching fast. He could feel the pressure building, but he thrived on it. This was his chance. His only chance.

Finally, the day came. Aryan's family was sitting around the dining table, enjoying a quiet dinner when the phone rang. His mother answered it, and after a brief conversation, she turned to Aryan with a smile.

"It's Grandpa. He wants to talk to you."

Aryan's heart skipped a beat as he took the phone from his mother's hand. He cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Hi, Grandpa."

"Aryan, my boy," his grandfather's voice crackled through the phone. "I've been thinking about our last conversation, and I have to say, I'm impressed. You've clearly put a lot of thought into the markets and what's happening in the economy."

"Thanks, Grandpa," Aryan replied, his pulse quickening.

"I was thinking," his grandfather continued, "if you're serious about wanting to learn more and maybe even get started with some small investments, I'd be happy to lend you a little money to open a brokerage account. Nothing too big, of course, but it could be a good learning experience for you."

Aryan felt a rush of excitement. This was it. This was his chance.

"That would be amazing, Grandpa," Aryan said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "I'd really appreciate it."

His grandfather chuckled. "Well, don't thank me yet. You've still got to prove you know what you're doing. But I'll wire you $5,000 to get started. Consider it an early birthday present."

Aryan's hand tightened around the phone. "Thank you, Grandpa. I won't let you down."

Aryan's journey had officially begun. With $5,000 in his pocket and the knowledge of the future at his disposal, he was ready to take the first step toward building his empire. The 2008 financial crisis was just months away, and when it hit, Aryan would be prepared. He would ride the wave of destruction, using the chaos to his advantage.

This time, he wouldn't fail. This time, he wouldn't let anyone use him or betray him. He would become the wealthiest man alive, no matter what it took.

Aryan's Internal Reflection

As Aryan stepped away from his grandfather's study, clutching the promise of $5,000 in his hands, a flood of emotions surged through him. Relief, excitement, and a tinge of fear all mingled in his mind. The gravity of what he was about to do weighed heavily on him, but it also filled him with an intense sense of purpose.

"This is it," Aryan thought, his fingers twitching slightly. "This time, I'll do it right."

He glanced around the house, the familiar sights now feeling distant yet comforting. He felt an odd disconnect from his surroundings, as though the memories from his first life had made him a stranger in his own home. Yet, this was his chance. The fire in his belly was driven not just by a hunger for wealth, but a deep-seated need to control his own destiny—something that had been stripped from him in his first life.

At dinner that evening, Aryan's father, Manas Sarma, sat across from him, eyeing him with curiosity. Manas, a diligent government employee, always encouraged stability and the traditional path of education and employment. His reserved, practical demeanor had shaped Aryan's upbringing.

"Anything exciting at school today, Aryan?" his mother, Dr. Emily Sarma, asked with her gentle American accent, smiling warmly at her son. Emily was a history professor and deeply valued knowledge and curiosity. She always encouraged Aryan to dream big, but even she would be surprised by the grand aspirations now swirling in her son's mind.

"Nothing much, Mom," Aryan replied. His mother didn't need to know that he wasn't thinking about school at all. His eyes darted toward his father, wondering how the man would react to the changes in him over the coming weeks. Convincing his father to let him explore finance as a career would be an uphill battle. For now, he decided to stay quiet and continue with his research.

Aryan knew that his father would likely oppose his future decisions, but his mother's open-mindedness might be an ally. "One step at a time," he thought.

That night, after dinner, Aryan locked himself in his room and fired up the old family desktop. It was slow and outdated, but it would do for now. He couldn't afford to attract attention by asking for new tech just yet. His fingers flew across the keyboard as he pulled up charts, news articles, and financial predictions from 2007. He poured over information about Lehman Brothers, the housing market, and the looming subprime mortgage crisis.

His mind worked methodically, recalling every pivotal moment from his past life. He knew exactly when the markets would crumble and which companies would rise from the ashes. With $5,000 as his initial capital, his plan was to make strategic investments in futures and options, capitalizing on the mortgage crisis. The goal wasn't just to survive the crash, but to use it as a launchpad for unprecedented financial success.

"I'll start small," Aryan thought, scanning through the full-service brokerage firms he would use. "Get some early wins, and before anyone realizes it, I'll be well on my way."

The first phase of his plan was set. Aryan's gaze hardened as he stared at the monitor. This was the moment where he would turn his past failures into a path of redemption. The groundwork was laid, and all he needed to do now was execute it with precision.