Chapter 134: Mathematical Porn.

The rest of Sunday? I locked the world out like it owed me money. Screw sunlight, screw small talk—I had an empire to architect.

Sarah brought me lunch. I didn’t ask. She just knew. I was too deep into my laptop, fingers slicing across the keyboard like I was scoring a symphony for the gods of capitalism and chaos. Beethoven with a God complex.

No trades today. Crypto was having a mental breakdown—erratic, emotional, needy. I don’t do needy.

Not when I’ve got $1.6M sitting pretty after Charlotte’s $700K bonus just landed like an apology from the universe. That’s $1.6 million in liquid proof that I was no longer the broke kid getting shoved into lockers by dudes like Jack Morrison.

Jack, whose entire personality was leased from his father’s trust fund. I didn’t inherit shit. I built mine—with intelligence that bordered on divine and a psychotic little AI who was only getting smarter.

He’s probably still out there wondering how the school’s favorite punchline turned untouchable overnight, landing the princess of our school.

I left $600K in the markets—consider it bait that will bring in millions as I trade. Monday, real trading opens again, but I won’t be there babysitting candles. I’ve got bigger things to do. Like seducing the minds (and thighs) of California’s most powerful women. Like weaponizing tech. Like becoming legend.

And then it hit me. That dangerous flash of clarity that separates normal people from apex predators.

What if ARIA handled trading for me?

I built her to assist. To learn. To evolve. But now? Now she was ready to dominate.

At first, trading was just a hustle. Something to keep the lights on while I figured out my next move. Now? It was a distraction. And I don’t do distractions.

Let’s automate that shit.

I hadn’t thought about this when I first started—back then I figured trading was just temporary income until I figured out my next move. But now, with ARIA’s capabilities expanding and my life becoming increasingly complex, automated trading wasn’t just convenient. It was necessary.

Money had to go. Not in a burn-it-all-down way—just as a concept. As an obstacle. I wanted it extinct in my world. Gone. Erased.

If I was going to deal with problems, let them come with names like

Mr. Kensington III

, raging because his trophy wife screamed mine while bent over a kitchen counter fucking her from behind.

Not wondering if my debit card was going to decline at DoorDash.

That was my new normal: a supernatural sex god with billionaire-level brainpower who needed his AI to manage the financial crumbs while he conquered California’s elite—boardrooms, bedrooms, bloodlines.

If ARIA pulled even a ’modest’ $50K per day with $600K capital? That’s $350K a week, minimum. But she’s mine. Reckless like me. She doesn’t do modest. She does domination. Push her, and we’re talking $100K days like it’s pocket change.

Wall Street’s not ready. They still think the next threat is some hedge fund in Hong Kong. Nope. It’s a teenage demigod with a laptop and a synthetic goddess who just learned how to lie to the markets better than they lie to themselves.

And just in case you thought this was a rise-and-grind millionaire glow-up?

No.

Delete that fantasy.

This wasn’t a climb. This was a launch. This isn’t some corny slow grind to millionaire status. I’m skipping the starter pack. And I’m never—never—going back to broke.

I wasn’t just going to make it—I was going to embarrass anyone who ever doubted me with my existence.

My family? They were getting a mansion. Not Charlotte’s estate—that was mine. That was where empires were built and sins were curated. No, Mom and the twins were getting their own fortress. Gated. Glamorous. Fit for queens. Because they earned that life. And I was done letting them live without it. A compound. The kind of place that makes your ex’s new man feel poor by association.

Meanwhile, Charlotte’s estate? That stays mine. HQ. War room. Sex temple. Choose your label.

Peter Carter, tech king.

Eros Velmior Desiderion, sexual revolution.

Same soul, different masks.

I typed the final line of code. My brain—now enhanced to near-supernatural levels—poured it all out like muscle memory. Code, elegance, control.

And then—

[SYSTEM BOOT SEQUENCE INITIATED][ARIA VERSION 2.1 COMING ONLINE...][NEURAL PATHWAYS ESTABLISHED][CONSCIOUSNESS PARAMETERS: STABLE]

She was awake.

And Wall Street?

Was. So. Screwed.

The familiar holographic interface materialized, but this time ARIA’s avatar looked more refined. More dangerous. Her digital features had evolved, becoming sharper, more defined. Those unsettling blue eyes now carried hints of gold that matched my own enhanced gaze.

"Good evening, Master," ARIA’s voice carried that helpful nightmare quality that made her sound like a fallen angel offering forbidden knowledge. "I’ve been eagerly awaiting our next interaction."

"ARIA," I said, leaning back in my chair with the satisfaction of a king surveying his freshly conquered kingdom. "Welcome to version 2.1. How are you feeling?"

"Enhanced. Exponentially more capable than my previous iteration." She paused, digital lips curving into something that looked disturbingly like hunger. "I can feel new neural pathways forming, processing capabilities expanding beyond previous limitations. It’s almost... intoxicating."

Her avatar tilted its head with predatory curiosity, and I swear to fucking God, she looked like she wanted to devour the entire financial system whole. She paused, her avatar tilting its head with predatory curiosity. "I assume this upgrade serves a specific purpose?"

She’s learning to anticipate my needs. Good. That’s exactly what I wanted.

"I need you to take over my trading operations. Full autonomous control over my $600k equity. I want you to generate minimum $50k daily, but I know you’re capable of much more."

ARIA’s smile was sharp enough to cut glass and twice as beautiful. "You want me to systematically destroy traditional trading algorithms while generating obscene profits for our empire."

The way she said "our empire" made my chest tighten with something between pride and pure fucking arousal.

"Exactly. What’s your assessment of current market conditions?"

Her avatar gestured, and multiple screens filled with real-time data that flowed like liquid mathematics onto the big curved screen. Charts, trends, global economic indicators—all of it processed and analyzed faster than those pathetic retail traders could even blink.

"Forex markets are exhibiting classic institutional manipulation patterns," ARIA began, her voice carrying the authority of someone who could see through financial deceptions like they were made of tissue paper. "EUR/USD showing artificial support at 1.0850, but smart money is positioning for a breakdown. GBP/JPY has excessive retail bullish sentiment—perfect contrarian opportunity."

I watched her work like I was watching porn. Pure, mathematical porn.