The morning sun bathed New York in a molten glow, gilding the glass towers in fiery light. James adjusted the cuff of his navy-blue suit as he and Lilian entered the Nasdaq building, the pulse of history vibrating through the marble floors.
Lilian looked around wide-eyed. "Feels like we're about to watch a rocket launch," she whispered.
James gave a brief smile, but his eyes were cold, focused.Today wasn't about celebration.
It was about execution.
The building was packed — bankers, venture capitalists, journalists, early employees. The air smelled of fresh ink, aftershave, and ambition.
Standing center stage were Jim Clark — the silver-haired architect of Silicon Graphics — and Marc Andreessen — the young prodigy who had helped bring the Internet to life.
As they spotted James and Lilian, Jim approached with easy charisma.
"James! Glad you could make it," Jim said, shaking his hand firmly.
"Wouldn't miss it for the world," James replied smoothly.
Marc grinned nervously beside him, adjusting the knot of his tie. "Man, it's crazy out there. Feels like everyone's watching us."
"They are," James said calmly. "Today, you're making history."
Jim laughed. "You hear that, Marc? We're making history."
"Yeah," Marc muttered, still wide-eyed.
"Relax," James added, voice dropping lower. "This is just the first battle. The war for the Internet is only beginning."
Jim clapped Marc on the back. "Damn right."
A few photographers waved them over. James, Jim, and Marc posed together for photos, flashes popping like fireworks.
Nearby, the press gathered around. A few bold reporters pushed forward.
"Mr. Clark!" one shouted. "Any thoughts before the opening bell?"
Jim smiled, the perfect mix of humility and swagger.
"Today's not just about Netscape," he said. "It's about a revolution. The Internet is changing everything — how we communicate, how we do business, how we live. Netscape is the first key unlocking that door."
Marc leaned in. "And this is only the beginning. Wait until you see what's next."
The crowd murmured, intrigued.
Another reporter shouted, "How do you feel about the offering price being raised last minute?"
Jim chuckled. "Supply and demand. Welcome to capitalism, gentlemen."
Laughter rippled through the journalists.
James stepped back, letting the founders soak up the limelight.He caught sight of two familiar figures in the crowd: Jerry Yang and David Filo, the young Stanford grads who had started a quirky Internet directory called Yahoo.
James approached the two casually, offering a firm handshake.
"James Calloway," he said. "CEO of DoubleClick."
Jerry Yang blinked, then smiled warmly. "Jerry Yang. This is David Filo. We've heard of DoubleClick — you guys are doing great work."
James chuckled. "Appreciate it. I actually visited your office a while back, but you two were busy chasing down financing in New York."
David grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, guilty. Feels like all we do these days is beg for money."
James tilted his head slightly. "So? Any luck?"
Jerry exchanged a quick look with David, then nodded. "Some promising talks. Nothing locked yet, but we're getting closer."
James's smile sharpened slightly.
"Good. You'll need it. The Internet's about to explode, and Yahoo's going to be one of the pillars."
David laughed awkwardly. "Man, right now we're just trying to keep our servers from crashing."
James leaned in, voice lower, confident.
"Don't underestimate what you're building. The Internet isn't just a fad — it's the new frontier. And you two? You're drawing the maps."
Jerry's face turned serious. "You really believe that?"
James's eyes gleamed.
"I don't believe it. I know it."
Jerry nodded slowly, as if absorbing the weight of the words.David just smiled, a little overwhelmed.
James clapped them both lightly on the shoulder.
"Enjoy today. Next time, it'll be you two on the podium ringing the bell."
He left them standing there, thoughtful, as the final countdown began.
The energy in the room spiked, electric.
On the stage, Jim and Marc gripped the ceremonial mallet together.Cameras clicked. Reporters leaned forward.The Nasdaq representative counted down:
"Three... two... one..."
BONG!
The mallet struck the bell.
A roar erupted.
On the digital board above them, the ticker blazed:
NSCP - $28.00/share
Seconds later:
$30.00
$45.00
$60.00
Gasps and cheers filled the air.
Lilian grabbed James's arm, wide-eyed. "It's flying!"
James's eyes stayed cold, focused.He was already moving.
He slipped away from the crowd, heading into a quieter hallway.
Pulling out his Nokia 909, he speed-dialed his broker.
The line clicked immediately.
"Ready on your command, sir," the broker said crisply.
James's voice was ice.
"Use five-to-one leverage. Buy $1 million worth at the opening price. Execute immediately. No hesitation."
There was the briefest hesitation — a heartbeat of silence.
Then the broker answered, voice tight. "Understood, sir."
James ended the call and tucked the phone away.
He returned to the edge of the main room, blending into the shadows, watching the digital screen.
The stock kept climbing.
$70.00
$80.00
$90.00
His jaw tightened slightly.
In my last life, it peaked at $75. Even with today's frenzy, it won't climb forever. Nothing does.
When Netscape touched $100, James moved again.
Another call.
"Sir?" the broker answered instantly.
"Start selling," James said flatly.
There was a pause — no words, just breathing.
The kind of hesitation that made James's blood run colder than ice.
Finally: "Sir, it's still running strong. Some are saying it could hit $120—"
James cut him off, voice low but absolute.
"Sell. Now. No arguments."
"...Understood, sir."
James snapped the phone shut, his gaze locked on the stock ticker.
For one breathtaking minute, Netscape flirted with $112.
Then — the inevitable.
$105... $98... $90...
The bubble's skin had stretched to its limit.
It began deflating — fast.
His phone buzzed again.
"Sir," the broker said, breathless. "We sold it all. Total sale: $3.571 million. Paid back the margin: $800,000. Net proceeds: $2.771 million."
"And profit?" James asked calmly.
"After your original capital returned — profit is $2.571 million, sir."
James closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply.
Victory — sharp and cold.
And yet...
Anger simmered.
Not because of the money — the few thousand dollars lost compared to $2.5 million were meaningless.
It was the principle.
The hesitation.
The doubt.
Tiny cracks today could be mortal wounds tomorrow.
In the empire he was building, obedience had to be absolute.
He slipped the phone into his pocket and returned to the main floor.
The celebration was a frenzy.
Champagne flowed like rivers. Reporters mobbed Jim and Marc.Photographers snapped endless photos.Young Netscape employees laughed, cried, hugged.
On the massive digital board overhead:
Netscape Communications Corp (NSCP): Closing Price - $69.27
Market Cap: $7.17 Billion
James picked up a glass of champagne, the bubbles fizzing against the crystal.
Beside him, Lilian clinked her glass against his.
"You see that?" she whispered. "Seven billion dollars. Seven!"
James smiled thinly.
"I saw."
She peered at him. "You don't seem excited."
"I'm not here to be excited," he said softly. "I'm here to win."
She shivered a little at his tone but said nothing.
Across the room, Jim was giving a short speech, Marc standing awkwardly beside him.
"Today isn't the end," Jim declared. "It's the beginning. The Internet will change everything — and Netscape is proud to be part of that story."
Cheers and applause shook the floor.
James toasted silently, his reflection caught in the mirrored walls.
Sharp-suited. Sharp-eyed.
Already planning ten moves ahead.
Already thinking about the next kill.
Already building an army.
Because today was proof:
With his mind, his memory, and a loyal army that never questioned him—
He would build an empire to shake the world.
He sipped his champagne slowly, a cold smile curling his lips.
Outside, New York glittered in the night, unaware that a new king was rising in its midst.