# Chapter 3: The New Idea

Alex adjusted his tie, making sure it hung perfectly against his custom-made shirt. The mirror showed him exactly what he wanted to see - a successful entrepreneur ready for a night of celebration. He thought he looked particularly handsome today. His dark hair was styled just right, and his expensive cologne filled the bathroom with its woody scent.

Tonight was the official "launch celebration" for Baba-Yaga NFTs. Of course, there was nothing actually launching yet - Byron's team was still scrambling to create something that remotely resembled what Alex had promised investors. But that was just a detail. What mattered was keeping up appearances.

He checked his watch - a Rolex Submariner that he'd bought with money from his last successful venture (or as some might incorrectly call it, "scam"). Just after 9 PM. Perfect timing.

Alex grabbed his wallet and keys from the counter, taking one final look at himself in the mirror.

"Looking good, Reynolds," he said to his reflection. "Looking very good."

He really did look good. His suit was perfect. His hair was perfect. His everything was perfect. He was, as he liked to remind himself, a true genius of modern business.

The elevator took him down from his penthouse to the private parking garage. His current car, a leased BMW, waited for him. It was a nice car, but after today's successful investor meeting, Alex felt like he deserved something better. Maybe he'd stop by the Porsche dealership tomorrow.

The drive to Velvet Dreams took about twenty minutes. It wasn't technically a strip club - at least, that's what Alex told people. It was an "upscale gentlemen's entertainment venue." The distinction made him feel better about hosting business events there.

He handed his keys to the valet and walked through the entrance, where the bouncer immediately recognized him.

"Mr. Reynolds! Good to see you again," the large man said, stepping aside without checking ID.

Alex slipped him a hundred-dollar bill. "Thanks, Joe. My usual table ready?"

"Yes, sir. Mr. Chen and Mr. Bartley are already here."

Alex walked into the dimly lit interior. Music thumped through strategically placed speakers, just loud enough to create atmosphere but not so loud that conversation became impossible. On the main stage, a woman in a sparkly outfit performed an athletic routine around a pole.

He didn't pay much attention to her. Alex wasn't really interested in the dancers - they were just part of the atmosphere. What he really enjoyed was the feeling of power that came from spending money in a place like this, watching others scramble to please him.

"Reynolds! Over here!"

Alex spotted Chen and Bartley at a large corner table. They weren't investors or business associates - just rich friends who enjoyed the same lifestyle. Chen had made his money in real estate, while Bartley had inherited his father's manufacturing business. Neither of them knew (or cared) about the details of Alex's business. They just knew he had money to spend.

"Gentlemen," Alex said, sliding into the booth. "How's everyone doing tonight?"

Chen raised his glass. "Living the dream, man. Living the dream."

A waitress appeared almost instantly. "Mr. Reynolds, welcome back. The usual?"

"Johnnie Walker Blue, neat," Alex confirmed.

"And bring a bottle for the table," he added, feeling generous. After all, he'd just secured another half million in investment. What was a $500 bottle of scotch in comparison?

Bartley leaned forward. "So what are we celebrating tonight? Another big deal?"

"You could say that," Alex replied with a smug smile. "Just closed a pre-sale for my new NFT collection. Half a million in commitments."

"NFTs?" Chen laughed. "I thought that market died last year."

Alex waved his hand dismissively. "For amateurs, maybe. The real innovators know how to evolve with the market. My NFTs are part of a complete ecosystem."

He realized he was starting to sound like his investor presentation, and neither Chen nor Bartley would understand or care about the technical nonsense. "Anyway, it's a solid deal. Made some people very happy today."

"Well, except the people who'll eventually lose their money," Bartley joked, not realizing how accurate his statement was.

Alex laughed it off. "That's not how it works. Everyone wins in my business model."

The waitress returned with his drink and a sealed bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label. Alex handed her his credit card. "Start a tab. And make sure our glasses stay full."

"Of course, Mr. Reynolds," she said with a practiced smile.

As she walked away, Chen nudged him. "You see that new dancer? The redhead?"

Alex glanced at the stage, where a different woman was now performing. "She's new?"

"Started last week. Bartley here already dropped two grand on private dances."

Bartley shrugged, not embarrassed. "Worth every penny."

Alex took a sip of his scotch, enjoying the smooth burn. "Speaking of money, either of you up for some poker? I'm feeling lucky tonight."

Both men agreed enthusiastically. Alex signaled to a floor manager, who quickly arranged for them to be moved to a private room in the back. This was one of the reasons Alex liked Velvet Dreams - they catered to his every whim without question, as long as he kept spending money.

The private room had a professional poker table, comfortable leather chairs, and a dedicated server who kept their drinks refreshed without being asked. Three other men joined them - regular high-rollers who were always up for a game.

"Five thousand minimum buy-in," Alex announced, placing a stack of chips in front of him. "No limit."

The others matched his buy-in. The dealer, a woman in a corset who Alex knew was actually quite skilled at cards, began shuffling.

Four hours and multiple scotches later, Alex was down around forty thousand dollars. He wasn't particularly bothered by it. Money flowed easily through his hands, both coming and going.

"Fold," he said, throwing his cards down after a particularly aggressive raise from Chen.

"You sure?" Chen taunted, showing his hand - a bluff with nothing but a pair of threes.

Alex laughed. "You got me. Should've called." But he didn't really care. Forty thousand was nothing compared to what he'd be making from the NFT pre-sale.

He checked his watch. Almost 2 AM.

"Gentlemen, I'm calling it a night," Alex announced, standing up from the table. "Some of us have actual businesses to run tomorrow."

The others groaned but didn't protest too much. They settled up their chips, and Alex signed the considerable tab without looking too closely at the final amount.

On his way out, he stopped by the main bar and handed the manager a stack of bills. "Make sure the staff is taken care of tonight."

The manager nodded appreciatively. "Always generous, Mr. Reynolds. Will we see you at the charity gala next week?"

Alex had forgotten about the gala - some fundraiser for children or animals or the environment, he couldn't remember which. He attended these events regularly, not because he cared about the causes, but because they were good places to meet potential investors.

"Wouldn't miss it," he said smoothly. "Put me down for the usual donation."

The valet brought his car around, and Alex drove back to his building, the night air helping to clear his head. He wasn't drunk - he never allowed himself to get truly intoxicated in public - but he was pleasantly buzzed.

His penthouse welcomed him with automated lights that slowly illuminated as he entered. It was a spacious, modern apartment with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city. The decor was minimalist but expensive - everything chosen by an interior designer he'd hired to create the perfect bachelor pad.

Alex loosened his tie and poured himself a nightcap from his personal bar. He walked to the windows, looking out at the glittering cityscape.

Today had been a good day. The investors were placated for now, and the additional funding from the NFT pre-sale would buy him time to secure those Asian investors through Patricia Wong. Everything was falling into place.

He finished his drink and got ready for bed, setting his alarm for 8 AM. As he drifted off to sleep, his mind was already planning the purchase of his new Porsche.

Morning came quickly. Alex's alarm blared at precisely 8 AM, cutting through his sleep. He reached over and silenced it, lying in bed for a few extra minutes. His head throbbed slightly from last night's scotch, but nothing a strong coffee couldn't fix.

He finally got up and walked to the bathroom, catching his reflection in the mirror. Even with a slight hangover, he thought he looked good. Perhaps a bit tired around the eyes, but still handsome. He definitely would look good in a Porsche.

Alex went through his morning routine with practiced efficiency. He brushed his teeth with an expensive electric toothbrush, took a hot shower using imported shower products, and shaved with a straight razor that he liked to think made him look sophisticated.

After getting dressed in another perfectly tailored suit, Alex made his way to the kitchen. His coffee machine was already brewing, programmed to start at 8:15 every morning. He poured himself a cup, added a splash of almond milk, and sat at his kitchen island with his phone.

First, he checked his cryptocurrency portfolio. The Baba-Yaga coin showed a slight increase overnight - 0.0000033 to 0.0000034 USD. Not much, but in the right direction. Perfect timing, considering he'd just minted three trillion new coins. By the time the market noticed the dilution, he'd be well on his way with the new NFT scheme.

Next, he checked his emails. A few messages from Marcus about technical details of the NFT launch, which he skimmed but didn't bother responding to. An invitation to speak at a blockchain conference next month, which he marked for later consideration. And a reminder about a dentist appointment next week.

After finishing his coffee, Alex moved to the most entertaining part of his morning routine. He pulled out a burner phone from a drawer in his kitchen - one of several he kept for various purposes. This particular phone was for what he jokingly called his "grandma calls."

He scrolled through a list of phone numbers, selected one at random, and dialed. After a few rings, a elderly woman's voice answered.

"Hello?"

Alex switched to a professional tone, with just the right amount of concern. "Hello, ma'am. I'm calling from National Bank Security. I'm afraid there's been a security breach involving your account."

"Oh dear," the woman said, sounding instantly worried. "What kind of breach?"

"We've detected unusual activity that suggests someone may have accessed your account information. For your protection, we need to verify some details to secure your account."

He heard her shuffling some papers. "Well, what do you need?"

"Could you please confirm your full name and the last four digits of your account number?" Alex asked, his voice conveying practiced authority and trustworthiness.

"My name is Margaret Wilson. And let me find my checkbook..." There was more shuffling. "The last four digits are 7294."

Alex wrote down the information, though he had no actual use for it. "Thank you, Mrs. Wilson. Now, for security purposes, I'll need the complete account number so we can flag it in our system for protection."

As she read off her full account number, Alex dutifully recorded it in a small notebook he kept specifically for this purpose. He never actually did anything with these numbers - he had significantly more lucrative "lends" running than petty bank fraud. This was more of a hobby, a way to keep his skills sharp. There was something satisfying about how easily people trusted him over the phone.

"Thank you, Mrs. Wilson. We'll implement extra security measures right away. You should receive confirmation from your local branch within 24 hours. Have a wonderful day now."

"Oh, thank you young man! You've been so helpful."

Alex ended the call, feeling the familiar rush of success. He made two more similar calls, collecting information from an elderly man in Florida and a middle-aged woman in Oregon, before putting the burner phone away.

It wasn't about the money with these calls - it was about the game. The challenge of convincing strangers to hand over private information based on nothing but the sound of his voice and a fabricated story. In a way, it wasn't so different from what he did with investors. The stakes were just higher with them.

Alex finished his breakfast - a protein shake and a piece of toast - and was about to head out when his regular phone rang. It was Marcus.

"Morning, Marcus," Alex answered cheerfully.

"Alex, we need to talk about the NFT timeline," Marcus sounded stressed, as usual. "Byron says it's physically impossible to have anything functional in two weeks. The developers are threatening to quit en masse."

Alex rolled his eyes. Technical people always overcomplicating things. "Tell him to hire more developers."

"With what budget? And even with more people, there's a limit to how fast software can be built. You can't just throw bodies at a problem."

"Sure you can," Alex responded confidently. "That's literally how every major project works. More people equals faster results."

He could almost hear Marcus's frustration through the phone. "That's not how software development works, Alex. There's something called Brooks' Law that specifically states—"

"Details, Marcus, details." Alex cut him off. "Look, I'm heading to the Porsche dealership this morning. I think it's time I upgraded from the BMW. Tells a better story to investors if I'm driving a car that matches our success, don't you think?"

There was a pause on the line. "Alex, do you think that's wise? Using the new investment money for a personal vehicle?"

"It's not personal, it's business," Alex explained patiently. "Image is everything in our industry. Investors want to see success. Would you invest with someone driving a Toyota?"

Before Marcus could answer, Alex continued, "Anyway, I'll stop by the office this afternoon. We'll figure out the development stuff then."

He ended the call before Marcus could protest further. Technical problems always had solutions, and those solutions usually involved throwing money at them. He'd handle it later.

Alex grabbed his keys and headed down to his car. As he drove toward the Porsche dealership, his mind wandered, thinking about the future of Baba-Yaga coin. The NFT scheme would buy him some time, but eventually, he'd need something new. Investors were always looking for the next big thing, and Alex prided himself on staying ahead of trends.

What if, instead of trying to prop up Baba-Yaga indefinitely, he launched something entirely new? A fresh cryptocurrency with an exciting story behind it. He could gradually transition investors from Baba-Yaga to this new coin, making it seem like a natural evolution rather than abandonment of the original project.

By the time he reached the dealership, Alex was buzzing with excitement about this new idea. He walked into the showroom, immediately drawn to a sleek, black Porsche Taycan.

"Can I help you, sir?" a salesman approached, recognizing a serious buyer when he saw one.

"I'm interested in the Taycan," Alex said, running his hand along the car's smooth exterior. "Fully loaded, of course."

As the salesman eagerly began explaining the car's features, Alex half-listened, his mind still working on his new cryptocurrency concept. He needed a name that would resonate with people, something familiar but with a twist.

And then it hit him. The Grandma Coin.

The perfect name. Everyone had a soft spot for grandmothers. It evoked trust, stability, wisdom - all the things people wanted in an investment. Plus, it had a touch of quirky humor that would make it memorable in a market saturated with technical or futuristic-sounding names.

"...and with the Performance Package, you'll get from zero to sixty in just 2.6 seconds," the salesman was saying.

"I'll take it," Alex interrupted. "Black exterior, red interior. When can I drive it off the lot?"

The salesman's face lit up. "We can start the paperwork right away. Would you like to discuss financing options?"

"No financing. I'll pay cash." Alex pulled out his phone to make the transfer. The car cost just over $130,000 with all the options he wanted, but it was worth it. A necessary business expense.

As the salesman went to get the paperwork, Alex sat in the display model, feeling the leather seat against his back. The Grandma Coin. It was perfect. He could build a whole marketing campaign around it - security, trust, reliable returns. By the time investors realized that Baba-Yaga was worthless, he'd have them all transferred to this new venture.

He just needed to tell Byron to start development. Maybe tomorrow. Today was about celebrating his success with a new Porsche. Byron's team was probably still struggling with the NFT project anyway, so there was no rush to add more to their plate.

Alex smiled to himself as he imagined driving to his next investor meeting in this beautiful machine. The Grandma Coin would be his most brilliant invention yet. Even more brilliant than Baba-Yaga. Investors would be falling over themselves to get in early.

Yes, tomorrow he would set things in motion. But today, he would enjoy his reward for being such a genius.