Volume 1 Chapter 3 — The Traitor’s Trap & Shorting the Stock (背叛者的陷阱)

Midnight had fallen over Sterling Manor, but the storm had not fully passed. The torrential downpour of earlier evening had eased into a dense, chilling mist that hung over the formal gardens like a translucent shroud. Outside the thunderous noise of the main ballroom, the upper-tier VIP balcony offered a secluded, dim-lit sanctuary overlooking the wet pine trees and glowing marble fountains below.

Elena Vance stood alone near the carved stone balustrade, a heavy crystal tumbler of twenty-year-old single-malt scotch held loosely in her slender, gloved hand. The amber liquid caught the soft glow of dark iron lanterns mounted along the stone wall. She wore a dark midnight-blue velvet evening wrap over her emerald gown, shielding her from the damp midnight air.

Behind her, the French doors chimed softly as they swung open.

Julian Montgomery stepped onto the balcony. He had discarded his tuxedo jacket, wearing only his crisp white shirt and dark vest, his collar slightly loosened. He carried his own glass of bourbon, his handsome face flushed with alcohol and unbridled ambition. He had spent the last two hours avoiding Chloe, who was currently locked in a private dressing room upstairs having a screaming hysterical breakdown over her ruined dress.

Julian glanced behind him to ensure no guests or photographers had followed, then closed the heavy glass doors, stepping toward Elena with a slow, confident swagger.

“I hoped I would find you here alone, Partner Vance,” Julian said, his voice dropping into a low, intimate register as he leaned against the stone rail beside her. The smell of expensive Cuban cigars and high-proof bourbon radiated from him.

Elena did not turn her head immediately. She took a slow sip of her scotch, her crystalline eyes gazing into the foggy night. “You should be upstairs comforting your fiancée, Mr. Montgomery. A five-carat diamond ring carries solemn obligations.”

Julian let out a bitter, dismissive laugh, taking a heavy swallow from his glass. “Fiancée? Chloe is a spoiled, childish nightmare. She has zero composure, zero intellect, and zero understanding of what it takes to build a real empire. Tonight proved that beyond any doubt.”

He turned his body toward Elena, his eyes scanning her side profile with predatory hunger. “My father forced this match to secure Sterling Group’s port concessions. But a man of real vision and ambition cannot be anchored to a hysterical child. A true leader needs a partner who understands power, strategy, and high finance… someone like you, Elena.”

Elena’s lips curved into a subtle, mysterious smile. She reached up with her free hand, her gloved fingers lightly touching the green diamond falcon brooch pinned near her collarbone.

“Ambition is a noble quality, Julian,” she murmured softly, her tone carrying an intoxicating mix of flattery and cold calculation. “But ambition without capital is merely a fantasy. Vance Global manages billions, yet we find very few corporate leaders in City A with the courage to seize true market opportunity.”

Julian’s eyes ignited with instant greed. He stepped a quarter-inch closer, his chest expanding with bloated pride. “Try me. Montgomery Logistics controls forty percent of the regional freight hubs. I run the operational expansion. Name an opportunity, Elena, and I will show you conviction.”

Elena turned to face him fully, her emerald eyes meeting his in the dim lantern light. She leaned in slightly, as if sharing a deadly, million-dollar secret.

“Vance Global’s intelligence desk locked onto a massive structural arbitrage opportunity three hours ago,” she whispered, her voice smooth as silk. “Project Hyperion—the regional tech-logistics conglomerate listed on the main exchange. Our internal quantitative models show their primary European supplier went into covert liquidation this afternoon. When the market opens at nine-thirty tomorrow morning, Hyperion stock is projected to plummet by at least thirty percent.”

Julian’s breath hitched in his throat. Shorting a falling stock with insider knowledge was the fastest way to generate tens of millions in clean profit overnight.

“Vance Global is preparing to deploy a short syndicate,” Elena continued smoothly, her fingers tracing the rim of her crystal glass. “Because we value establishing strong local partnerships in City A, we are extending ten-to-one institutional margin leverage to select private partners. If a partner puts up three million in capital, Vance Global provides thirty million in shorting power.”

Julian’s mind raced violently. A ten-to-one margin leverage! If Hyperion collapsed by thirty percent as Elena predicted, a thirty-million-dollar short position would yield a net profit of nearly nine million dollars in less than two hours. It was more liquid cash than Montgomery Logistics had generated in the last two fiscal quarters combined. With that kind of capital under his personal control, he could break free from his father’s shadow and dump Chloe Sterling forever.

“Ten-to-one leverage…” Julian breathed, his knuckles white around his glass. “Can I participate? Can Montgomery Logistics anchor the local short block?”

Elena feigned a quiet, reluctant hesitation, turning back toward the balcony railing. “It is a high-yield institutional agreement, Julian. It requires signing our standard margin debt facilities at our tower tomorrow at nine sharp—before the market bell. And it requires solid asset collateral.”

“I have full signing authority for Montgomery Logistics’ corporate treasury!” Julian asserted eagerly, stepping in front of her to block her view, desperate not to let the golden goose slip away. “I will be at Vance Global Tower at eight-thirty AM! Prepare the contracts, Elena. I will prove to you that I am the partner you have been looking for.”

Elena looked up into his eager, greedy face, her expression a masterclass of cool approval. “Very well, Julian. Do not be late. Opportunity favors men of conviction… but it punishes the hesitant.”

Julian smiled victoriously, lifting his glass to clink against hers. “To our partnership, Elena.”

*To your funeral, Julian,* Elena thought, lifting her glass with icy elegance.

—

At precisely nine o’clock the following morning, sunlight cut through the morning fog of City A, illuminating the ninety-story glass spire of Vance Global Tower.

Inside the top-floor executive conference room, the atmosphere was cold, silent, and suffocatingly opulent. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows offered a panoramic view of the financial district below, where tiny cars crawled along the concrete arteries like metallic insects.

Julian Montgomery sat at the center of a twenty-foot black marble conference table. He wore a tailored Italian navy suit, his hair meticulously styled, though faint dark circles under his eyes betrayed a restless night spent dreaming of millions.

Standing beside the table was Elena Vance, dressed in a sharp, immaculately tailored charcoal-grey double-breasted suit. Her hair was pulled back into a sleek, professional low bun, framing her face with ruthless executive authority.

An associate from Vance Global’s legal department placed a fifty-page institutional margin facility contract before Julian, along with a heavy gold fountain pen.

“The terms are set as discussed, Mr. Montgomery,” the legal associate said in a flat tone. “Vance Global provides thirty million dollars in short leverage against Hyperion Tech Stock. You are opening a thirty-million-dollar short position at market open.”

Julian eagerly flipped to the signature page. His eyes scanned the bold text: *Section 8.4: Default & Collateral Repossession.* The fine print stipulated that in the event of an adverse margin call exceeding maintenance thresholds, the borrowing entity pledged all corporate shares, commercial real estate deeds, and primary freight terminals of Montgomery Logistics as immediate, unappealable default collateral.

Julian paused for a fraction of a second, his pen hovering over the paper. The risk clause looked aggressive. But then he looked up at Elena Vance.

Elena stood by the window, sipping black coffee from a porcelain cup, looking every inch the invincible billionaire investor who commanded global financial markets. She turned her head slightly, catching his eye with an encouraging, confident nod.

“Sign with care, Julian,” Elena said, her voice smooth and measured. “Leverage is a powerful blade. In the hands of a master, it cuts fortunes. In the hands of the weak, it slashes throats.”

Julian’s ego flared violently. He was no weakling; he was Julian Montgomery! He pressed the gold nib to the paper and signed his name in bold, sweeping strokes across every signature line, stamping the corporate seal of Montgomery Logistics onto the red wax pad.

“Done,” Julian declared, sliding the contract back across the table with a triumphant grin. “I trust your financial instinct, Elena.”

Elena picked up the contract, her slender fingers tracing his fresh signature. Her lips curved into a chilling, beautiful smile as she signed her name on the lender authorization line.

“Contract executed,” Elena said softly. “The market opens in fifteen minutes, Julian. Let us witness your conviction.”

—

At nine-twenty-five AM, Elena guided Julian down a private glass elevator to Vance Global’s High-Frequency Trading Center—a massive, soundproofed command vault located on the floor below.

The room was a dizzying nerve center of high-technology finance. Dozens of quantitative traders sat before banks of six-screen terminals, headsets plugged in, mechanical keyboards clattering in a relentless, rhythmic roar. Massive floor-to-ceiling LED ticker screens lined the front wall, flashing real-time market data in bright green and vivid red numbers.

High above the trading floor, on a suspended glass observation bridge, stood Dominic Vance. He wore dark trousers and a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms, his broad arms crossed over his chest, his formidable presence hovering over the room like an absolute monarch.

Dominic met Elena’s eyes across the glass bridge and gave a single, almost imperceptible nod.

*Tick. Tick. Tick.*

At nine-thirty AM sharp, the market bell echoed through the speakers.

“Market open!” the Head Trader bellowed. “Executing order block Bravo! Shorting Hyperion Tech at forty-two dollars per share! Position size: thirty million dollars!”

On the giant LED wall, Hyperion stock (HYPN) flashed onto the primary monitor.

Initially, the trade moved exactly as Julian had hoped. Within three minutes, panic selling hit the retail sector. Hyperion stock dropped from $42.00 to $40.75—a quick 3% decline.

Julian, watching from the VIP observation console, let out a loud laugh of delusional euphoria. “It’s dropping! Look at that red candle! We’re already up six hundred thousand dollars!” He turned to Elena, his face beaming. “Elena, you are a genius!”

Elena stood beside him, her hands folded gracefully in front of her suit, her face completely unreadable. “Patience, Julian. The market is a fickle beast.”

At ten-fifteen AM, Dominic Vance walked slowly down the steel staircase from the observation bridge, taking a position directly beside Elena’s trading terminal. He glanced at the Head Trader and uttered a single, low command.

“Initiate Phase Two. Execute Capital Block Alpha.”

The Head Trader’s eyes widened slightly, but he immediately slammed his hand onto a key. “Executing buy-block Alpha! Deploying one hundred million dollars institutional long position on Hyperion Tech!”

Julian froze. “Wait… what? Long position? Who is buying?”

Before Julian could process the question, a massive surge of institutional buying power hit the order book. Vance Global’s hidden reserve funds poured one hundred million dollars of buy orders directly into Hyperion Tech stock, swallowing every available short share on the market in seconds.

Hyperion’s stock price didn’t just recover—it erupted.

$40.75… $44.00… $48.00… $52.00!

In less than six minutes, Hyperion stock surged by a staggering twenty-two percent!

“Short squeeze! Short squeeze in progress!” traders began shouting across the floor. “HYPN is breaking fifty-five!”

Julian’s face turned from flushed euphoria to a sickening, ghostly white. Sweat broke out across his forehead in heavy beads. “No… no, no, no! Stop it! Why is it going up?! Sell! Close the short!”

“We can’t close, Mr. Montgomery!” the Head Trader yelled over the clatter. “The short position is locked under ten-to-one leverage! You are facing an adverse margin gap!”

Suddenly, loud, shrill alarm buzzers began echoing through the trading floor. The giant LED screens overlayed into a flashing, blinding crimson red. Large, terrifying words flashed across every terminal screen:

**[CRITICAL MARGIN CALL: ACCOUNT MON-LOG-992 EXCEEDED COLLATERAL LIMITS. DEFICIT: $31,450,000.]**

Julian’s knees buckled. He grabbed the edge of the glass railing to prevent himself from collapsing onto the floor. “Thirty-one million… deficit? My… my thirty million is gone?!”

“Not just your thirty million, Mr. Montgomery,” Elena’s voice cut through his panic, cool, calm, and entirely devoid of mercy. She turned to face him, her emerald eyes cold as arctic ice. “Because Hyperion rose twenty-two percent against your leveraged short, your account has suffered a total liquid wipeout. You owe Vance Global thirty-one million, four hundred thousand dollars in default margin debt.”

Julian’s phone began ringing violently in his pocket. Trembling uncontrollably, he pulled out his phone. The caller ID showed his father, Chief Executive Marcus Montgomery.

Julian pressed the phone to his ear with a shaking hand. “F-Father…?”

A furious, panicked scream echoed so loudly from the receiver that even the nearby traders could hear it. *”Julian, you fool! What did you sign?! Vance Global’s enforcement lawyers just walked into our corporate headquarters with a federal court order! They have frozen all our corporate bank accounts and placed a default lien on every truck, warehouse, and property we own! We have until noon tomorrow to post thirty million in cash collateral or Montgomery Logistics goes into immediate liquidation!”*

The phone slipped from Julian’s numb fingers, crashing onto the carpet.

Julian looked at Elena, his eyes wide with horrified realization. The charm, the flattery on the balcony, the confidential intel… it was all a trap. A meticulously calculated, lethal financial execution.

“You…” Julian stammered, his voice choked with terror. “You did this on purpose… Who are you?! Why are you doing this to me?!”

Elena stepped toward him, leaning down slightly so only he could hear her voice over the background buzzers of the trading floor.

“You traded your soul for gold three years ago, Julian,” she whispered, her voice a chilling breeze against his ear. “Only to find the gold was molten lead.”

Dominic Vance stepped forward, placing a heavy, commanding hand on Julian’s trembling shoulder, calling two burly security guards over.

“Escort Mr. Montgomery off the premises,” Dominic commanded coldly. “He has twenty-four hours to find thirty million dollars… or Montgomery Logistics ceases to exist.”

As the guards dragged the limp, sobbing heir toward the elevators, Elena stood beside Dominic, watching the crimson margin alarms flash across the screen.

The first traitor’s empire was falling. And the fire was just beginning to spread.