New York at Year’s End (4)
Eric Rose couldn’t hide his surprise when he heard who I was.
“I’ve heard a lot about you. You’ve made some remarkable investments.”
“Not really. I haven’t done all that much.”
I asked him, “Come to think of it, is your younger sister the reporter Vanessa Rose at the New York Times?”
His eyes widened.
“That’s right. How did you know?”
“She’s famous.”
Strictly speaking, I’d heard it from Trish.
He said with a hint of regret, “I wish my sister had been able to make it. She had to cover a story tonight, so she couldn’t come with me.”
“The year-end season is a busy one for reporters.”
Trish was out in Times Square right now, covering the festivities.
After talking with Eric Rose for a while, I sipped my champagne and watched the crowd.
Being in an unfamiliar place with strangers usually made people feel awkward or tense. But I didn’t feel much of either.
The reason was probably simple: there was nothing for me to regret.
People you met at events like this usually turned out to be useful, whether personally or for business.
If I had been a run-of-the-mill private equity manager, I would have been working the room, pitching wealthy guests on Continue Capital—explaining our investment style, our returns, and trying to win their money.
Private equity firms gather huge pools of capital from a relatively small number of investors, which means they’re always dependent on rich people’s money. In return, of course, they make those people even richer.
But Continue Capital was a family office.
We didn’t take money from anyone. We only made money for ourselves.
So there was no need for me to approach people one by one, bow and scrape, and work the room. I could simply enjoy the party and leave when I felt like it.
That was what I was thinking when a woman walked up to me.
Blond hair, porcelain skin, a black minidress, and high heels. Her green eyes gleamed with intelligence, and the firm set of her lips suggested a strong will beneath the polished exterior.
She looked to be in her early twenties.
She asked me, “Is this your first time at a party like this?”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I’ve never seen you at any of the other parties.”
From the way she said it, she must have spent a ridiculous amount of time at these things.
She held out her hand. “Hello. I’m Emily Chloe.”
“Han Miru.”
“I’ve heard so much about Continue Capital my ears could ring. Everywhere I go, people are talking about it.”
“Were they saying good things?”
“There were a few bad things too. People said they’d taken huge losses because of Continue Capital’s short selling. Ah, but this latest thing was brilliant.”
“What latest thing?”
“FaceNote, of course. I was already sick of those ads popping up on Linstagram.”
She chatted away beside me as if we’d known each other for years.
She wasn’t just beautiful; there was something in her expression and voice that drew people in.
“Later, I’d love to ask your advice on how I should invest my trust assets. I’m not sure I can handle that much money yet.”
“How much are we talking?”
“Seventy million euros. It’s tied up at Société Lion, so I can’t touch it until I turn twenty-five.”
Société Lion was a French bank.
For the record, French banks hardly ever use the word “bank” in their names.
“You’re French?”
“Yes. My father runs a nuclear power business in France. Doesn’t that sound boring? Atomic energy, of all things. No matter how much money someone offered me, I’d never want to do such a dull business.”
When people thought of France, they usually imagined fashion and wine, but in reality it was a powerhouse in manufacturing and energy. Especially in nuclear power, its influence was formidable.
She was supposedly the only daughter of a family that ran one of those nuclear energy firms.
“My father wants me to take over the business someday, but I’m not interested at all. We’re still fighting about it. He keeps trying to control me with credit cards and allowance money, and I’m so sick of it. I want to run my own business.”
“What kind of business?”
As if she’d been waiting for that question, she brightened and said, “New York is the greatest city in the world. Everyone loves this city. So it deserves new parties and events that fit it. As you know, the usual parties are so old-fashioned. I’m planning a range of events that will make New York shine. For that, I’m putting together NYSC, the New York Social Club.”
“What does the club do?”
“We sponsor and invest in New York’s talented artists. We host events and parties that only club members can attend. Real estate investors, financiers, artists, musicians, designers, chefs—people like that. Plenty of New York’s most prominent names are already involved. It’ll become the city’s best social club, and everyone will want in.”
So she wanted to create a social membership club for the upper crust.
She kept going, explaining her business in detail.
“We’re planning to lease an old building and turn it into a lounge. The whole place will be open only to social club members.”
Hosting events and parties was a massive hassle.
If someone were willing to step up and take over all that annoying work, everyone would welcome it gladly.
“That sounds like it’ll take a lot of investment.”
At my words, she gave a light laugh.
“Money isn’t very important. There are plenty of people desperate to invest.”
“Then what matters?”
“Making the best possible event. If it isn’t the best, it’s meaningless. What do you think, Miru? Would you like to join me?”
“Do I have the qualifications?”
“Of course. If the CEO of Continue Capital isn’t qualified, who is? I’d love to have you as an advisor to our club.”
I studied her for a moment.
From our brief conversation, her name sounded familiar, and her face did too.
I couldn’t have seen her in person before, so I must have encountered her through some other medium, like the news or a video. But was that in this life, or the last?
“Ah!”
I remembered.
Emily Chloe. The French heiress.
She looked at me quizzically. “What is it?”
I grinned.
“Nothing. I just occasionally get good ideas.”
“Oh! You mean investment inspiration or something like that?”
“Something like that.”
She introduced me to the others.
“This is Ingrid Gable. He’s Soho’s hottest up-and-coming designer right now. Once you see the clothes he makes, you’ll realize how boring Hermès and Chanel are.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“And this is William Bacol. He produces Broadway musicals. If you get close to him, he can reserve VIP seats for you anytime.”
“I look forward to working with you.”
“Humphrey Hayward. He’s the director of the lending division at CKB Bank.”
“It’s an honor to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
It was honestly fascinating.
I had only met Emily a little while ago.
And yet she acted like she’d known me for years. More than that, from the way things looked now, it was as if she were the one introducing me to everyone else.
In any case, thanks to her, I went from being the loner of the party to being one of the people at the center of it in the blink of an eye. A lot of guests asked her to introduce me to them.
Before long, people had gathered around me, and Emily was standing closest of all.
To anyone who didn’t know better, it would have looked as if we were close friends.
She asked me, “I’ve been curious for a while. What’s the secret behind all those successful investments of yours?”
With that question, everyone’s attention shifted to me.
It made sense. Continue Capital had turned every investment into a success and earned staggering profits along the way.
If there were some secret behind that, they’d all want to know.
The surest secret, of course, was getting hit by a car while delivering fried chicken on a motorcycle—but since that wasn’t something just anyone should try, I decided to keep that one to myself.
If I didn’t hand it out freely, then it was a secret, wasn’t it?
“Making money through investing is very easy. The most important thing is spotting fraud. Thomas Motors rolled its cars down a hill. Rolf Buchi lied and claimed he’d developed his own artificial intelligence program. And FaceNote hid its algorithmic bias and data leaks. If you can recognize fraud like that, you can avoid losses and make money.”
Emily Chloe tilted her head.
“How do you spot it? Is there some way to tell when someone’s lying?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Yes. I’m curious, so hurry up and tell me.”
Since she was so eager to know, I had no choice.
“All right. Then I’ll give you a demonstration.”
I pointed at her.
“Please take a good look at the lady standing here, Emily Chloe. She has a charming face and a bold personality. She has a keen eye for art and fashion, stays in New York’s finest hotels, and shops to her heart’s content. And now she’s planning an elegant new business called the New York Social Club for the upper class.”
“Thank you.”
Emily dipped her head slightly as if in acknowledgment, and a few people even gave a polite round of applause.
But the expression on her face changed with my next words.
“However, Emily Chloe is a fraud.”
“If you fall for something like this, you won’t make money.”
For a moment, silence fell over the crowd.
Everyone stared at me, too shocked to speak.
I watched Emily Chloe’s face.
For an instant she looked flustered, then she burst out laughing.
“Pfft! That’s a funny joke.”
The people around us followed suit and laughed as well.
They seemed to be taking it all as a joke.
I kept going.
“She says she has seventy million euros in trust assets, but I doubt anyone here has actually verified that. She says her parents run a nuclear power business in France, but I doubt anyone has ever met them or called them. In fact, I doubt anyone has even checked whether she’s really from France. So is Emily Chloe really the heir to a French conglomerate? Or could everything about her be a lie?”
This time, she seemed genuinely rattled. The hand holding her champagne glass trembled ever so slightly.
“Enough. This isn’t funny.”
Strange. I thought it was pretty funny.
So I decided to keep going.
“Why not? You’re a fraud, aren’t you?”
Emily raised her eyes and snapped, “Ha! That’s not even funny. You’re calling me a fraud? And who exactly are you? Are you really the CEO of Continue Capital?”
When people ran out of things to say, they usually got angry.
“Yes. I am. If you want, I can video call President Lockhart right here and now. Or I can connect you with Sid Lucas, the CEO of Snow Crash. But what about you? Who can verify your identity?”
“Everyone here knows who I am! You’re the only one who doesn’t!”
“Really? Do they actually know who Emily Chloe is?”
I grabbed Ingrid Gable and asked him, “Who told you Emily Chloe was the heiress to a French conglomerate?”
He looked startled. “Uh, Bacol did.”
This time I turned to William Bacol.
“Why did you think Emily Chloe was an heiress?”
“I heard it from someone else too. She also booked restaurants that only VIPs could reserve a lot, and…”
“And she probably booked the private Broadway boxes reserved for VIPs, too. Through you. Wouldn’t everyone else have seen that and assumed she was an heiress?”
“Uh…”
“Come to think of it…”
The people around us exchanged uneasy glances.
One woman said, “Wait, hang on. Emily’s wealth is real. She spent tens of thousands of dollars in a single shopping trip, and we even took a private jet together to Cancun for vacation.”
“That was all your money. She enjoyed her luxury and indulgence with money you lent her and invested for her.”
I looked back at Emily Chloe.
“Everyone here assumes they know you, but that’s the mistake they’re making. A famous name made you sound like an heiress, so they just believed it because everyone else did. What’s your father’s name? What’s the name of his nuclear power company? Does he do business with EDF? Go on, tell me.”
“What the hell are you talking about!?”
“Can you call your rich father right now?”
Emily’s voice was edged with irritation.
“I’m not on good terms with my father right now. We fought, so I came to America.”
“What’s the company called? We could verify it with one phone call.”
“Why should I tell you that?”
I had to admit, she was impressive.
A normal person would have been so flustered they wouldn’t have been able to say anything. You needed that kind of nerve to go around scamming wealthy people.
Humphrey Hayward looked at me in disbelief.
“Are you saying Miss Chloe is really a fraud?”
“Yes. If you’ve submitted any loan applications with her, stop them immediately.”
“……”
From his face, it was obvious he’d never even imagined the possibility.
Then Emily erupted like she was having a fit.
“How dare you! Do you even know who I am? We’ve only just met today. How could you possibly know anything about me?”
I answered calmly, “I just happen to have a natural talent for spotting frauds. They give off a very specific stench.”
“W-what did you say?”
Of course, that was complete nonsense.
In reality, people would eventually find out she was a fraud all over the world.
I was simply getting ahead of the curve.