Chapter 171: Panic (3), The Financial World
The second group that was panicking was the financial world.
Across boardrooms from Silicon Valley to Wall Street, the reaction was the same: shock, unease, and a scramble for answers.
Executives who normally moved in calm, measured tones now found themselves speaking in hushed voices, tapping pens, and scrolling through news feeds in disbelief.
The news of Liam’s A380 and Maybach spectacle had hit like a thunderclap, but it was the registry data that followed which truly rattled the halls of corporate power.
Compliance desks, investor relations teams, and legal departments quietly started digging — combing through registries, custodian records, and cross-border filings.
At first, nothing obvious appeared. His name wasn’t on any 13D* or 13G* filing, and he wasn’t flagged on Bloomberg terminals. He also wasn’t in the usual "whale lists" of activist shareholders.
And yet, the deeper they pulled, the stranger it got. Beneath layers of nominee accounts and trust vehicles, the same name kept surfacing — Liam Scott. A teenager. An eighteen-year-old who somehow appeared in the investor rolls of not one, but several of the largest companies in the world.
The stakes weren’t above the 5% disclosure threshold, which only made the situation more unsettling. It meant he could be everywhere at once, stitched invisibly into the fabric of multiple Fortune 500 companies, exerting quiet weight without triggering alarms. That uncertainty was more unnerving than if he’d simply declared a massive stake outright.
Inside these companies, unease spread. Executives muttered in private corridors, board members texted each other late into the night, and compliance officers quietly assembled dossiers under the heading:
Scott, Liam – Potential Emerging Investor.
They didn’t yet know whether to treat him as a curiosity, a threat, or a future partner. What unsettled them most was that he seemed to have chosen invisibility, but the world was staring intently at him.
***
Wall Street – JP Morgan Tower, 270 Park Avenue
But nowhere was the tension greater than at JP Morgan’s 270 Park Avenue tower, and the mood in the Private Banking floor was bitter.
Liam Scott had walked away from their carefully tailored private-banking arm, refusing to be managed like any other wealthy heir. For JP Morgan, losing a client with that kind of profile — sovereign-level wealth, global visibility — was a humiliation. At the time, they barely knew who he really was, but suspicion sharpened when they learned he had moved through the Rothschild private vault. By then it was late — too late to win him back as a banking client — but not too late to remain connected through the Family Office they had built for him.
But the sting dulled when the partners reminded themselves: he wasn’t entirely lost. The Family Office remained, established through their structures, anchored by their legal frameworks, and still tied to their global networks.
Yes, They don’t control it, nor did they manage its daily affairs, but its foundations had their fingerprints. Through it, they still had a line of connection to Liam Scott.
"No," one director murmured, watching footage of the Black Titan on a muted screen. "He’s not our client anymore. But he’s still our ecosystem. And that makes all the difference."
Liam wasn’t just a name on their watchlist. He was their client — they still consider him to be their client. Every competing bank on Wall Street was now watching them, wondering what they knew that no one else did.
In a glass conference room, a managing director leaned across the table and whispered what everyone was already thinking.
"He’s not just an investor. He’s leverage. And now the whole world knows his name."
The room was silent for a long moment. Then Marianne, head of ultra-high-net-worth relations, spoke firmly:
"Action points. First — reinforce the firewall around his Family Office. Every approach, every inquiry, runs through Legal, no exceptions. Second — scenario planning. If regulators press, we cooperate on the surface but reveal nothing beyond what compliance requires. Third — maintain services quietly. We don’t manage his Family Office, but we built it. That keeps us tied in. And if we don’t protect that link, Goldman, UBS, or Morgan Stanley will find a way to slip in. And that is something we can’t allow."
Another executive frowned. "What if governments pressure us? Homeland, Treasury, the SEC—"
"Then," Marianne cut him off, "we remind them: this is a client under U.S. law, and every structure we built for him is compliant. If they want more than that, they’ll have to come with a court order — and even then, we’ll push back. Liam Scott is too valuable to risk."
The CEO’s directive came sharp and final: "This isn’t a billionaire anymore. This is a sovereign-level client. Treat him accordingly."
***
Goldman Sachs – Broad Street
Two miles downtown, another war room was alight. Partners at Goldman Sachs stared at the same viral footage, their Bloomberg terminals flashing with chatter.
"We missed him," one partner muttered bitterly. "He went to JP Morgan. They built the structure and they’re going to own him now."
The head of investment banking tapped his pen. "Not necessarily. If he’s holding cross-stakes in tech, pharma, and aviation, he’ll need syndicate access. IPO allocations. Debt issuance. We can still wedge in."
"What’s the play?" someone asked.
The partner gave a thin smile. "We invite him in. Silicon Valley will want inroads. If he’s putting capital into hardware and software, we structure deals around him. Venture, late-stage, whatever he wants. If we can’t be his private bank, we’ll be his investment bank."
The room nodded grimly. Goldman never stayed locked out for long.
***
Silicon Valley – Cupertino
At a sleek glass campus in Cupertino, Apple’s executive team huddled.
A product VP scrolled through his iPad, shaking his head. "His name’s in our registry. Though not big enough to be public, but he’s in."
The CFO spoke softly. "He’s not just an investor. He’s positioning himself as a shadow stakeholder across the Valley. If he can put our glass into his toys — or worse, build his own competing platform — we’ll be chasing him instead of leading."
If there was one thing Applē and other industry giants fear, it was losing their role as industry leaders. Which means, instead of dictating market trends, they’d end up reacting to Liam’s moves, playing catch-up in a game they used to dominate. But all these is based on the scenario that Liam intends to go into tech industry.
The CEO’s decision was swift: "Reach out discreetly. Through backchannels. Not official. Just... dinner invitations, soft feelers. If he’s building something, we want to be at the table.
[A/N: Whenever you see an asterisk "*" after word, please check the Author’s Thought for the footnote.]