Reborn in America, I am a legendary short seller on Wall Street.

Chapter 62 The Great Victory Retreat (4k-word chapter, please vote!)
The front desk manager hesitated. He frowned, pondered for a moment, then walked a few steps behind the counter and said to the blond boy in front of him,
"Sir, Omaha stock is highly volatile. To protect investors, we have implemented temporary restrictions, with a trading limit of 200 shares!"

Larry paused, then pointed at the $200 and exclaimed, "Yes! That's 200 shares! I'll buy 200 shares!"

The front desk manager shook his head. "No, sir! We said the maximum is 200 shares. You've already bought 100 shares, so you can only buy another 100 shares. That's the limit."

Larry tried to reason with them, but he looked like he was afraid of missing out on stock market updates. After a couple of arguments, Larry frowned and conceded.

"Okay then, I'll buy 100 shares, hurry up!"

The front desk manager nodded to the tellers, one teller began filling out a form, while the other teller took back a $100 bill and handed another $100 bill back to Larry.

"Buy 100 shares of Omaha at $65.5, with a margin of $1 per share." The teller filled in the transaction time and handed the transaction slip to Larry.

Larry was reluctant, but he still stood by the counter with the two transaction slips in hand.

Larry's reluctance was genuine; he knew Omaha's stock price had bottomed out and was poised to resume its upward trend. If he weren't afraid of startling the tellers and causing them to refuse to trade with him, he would have even considered buying all the dollars in his pocket at once.

Larry chose to be cautious and put out $200, but even that led the betting bank manager to temporarily limit his trading limit.

Larry thought, "Well, that's fine. At least I have 200 shares. If the worst happens, like I misjudged the situation, then I'll just lose the $200 and I don't plan to mess around with this stock anymore."

Larry was also feeling uneasy. He was confident in his judgment, but he was also worried that something unexpected might happen.

The dice have been thrown; now it's up to fate to reveal the secrets of the dice cup...

At this moment, Larry, the two tellers, and the front desk manager—four people in total, eight eyes—are all intently watching the price list, waiting for the latest quote to appear…

The clock on the wall ticked away, and the heartbeats of the crowd resembled the synchronized drumbeats of an Easter parade...

Thump, thump, thump thump thump...

Click, click, the price quote machine beeped. Larry, as if sensing something, glanced at the young man in front of the machine.

The young man took out a strip of paper, nodded, and shouted, "Omaha, $70.5!"

A jump of a full $5!!

Larry didn't make any extra expressions this time, but his toes in his shoes were firmly gripping the ground. He had made the right bet!

The manipulator who controlled the stock used a fierce shakeout to eliminate all the followers and then started to push the price up again.

Meanwhile, the three people behind the counter looked like they'd seen a ghost. They stared in disbelief at the latest information filled in on the price list and were speechless.

It was only 11:08 a.m., with 2 hours and 52 minutes left before the end of the trading day. They couldn't imagine what crazy things Omaha might do in the future.

At the same time, inside the New York Stock Exchange, a floor trader wearing a blue jacket stood on a platform, gesturing wildly and shouting to the other traders around him.

"Do you have any Omaha cameras?! I need Omaha cameras, as many as you can get!!"

Other traders beamed with delight. One of them pulled out his Omaha order from a pile of trades and shouted to him, "I have 2000 shares, but I'm offering $72!"

"Take his order!" a trader on the floor shouted, pointing at the person who made the bid. An assistant had already gone down to trade with him.

“I have 3500 shares here, and I’m offering $78.” Another trader didn’t actually expect the deal to go through at such a high price; he just wanted to bluff the floor trader who wanted to buy Omaha.

But the floor trader pointed again with his right hand, "$78 for 3500 shares, I'll take it!"

Floor traders went crazy, frantically searching for Omaha in their orders, and those lucky enough to find it started driving up the price relentlessly.

"1000 shares, $80!"

"5000 shares, $82!"

"1500 shares, I need $85 to sell them!!"

The floor trader in the blue jacket had an arrogant look on his face. He pointed at the floor traders who had made bids and repeated,

"1000 shares, I'll take them; 5000 shares, I'll take them too; 1500 shares, I'll take them all! Anyone else have any more?! I've made it very clear, I want Omaha, as many as you have!! Can't you damn sissies dump a little more?! I want to fuck your bitch mothers!"

The shouts and curses from the floor traders didn't provoke resentment from other traders; instead, they sparked a frenzy in that corner of the exchange!

Back at the betting shop in Hartford, the four people standing in front of the counter were already stunned by the ever-increasing Omaha prices.

$72, $78, $80, $82, $85—all sorts of unimaginable prices started popping up. The rest of the time became a solo performance by Omaha, with the young man at the price display pulling out one tape and it was Omaha, then another tape and it was also Omaha…

This is insane! Absolutely insane!!

The latest price has reached $98.75.

Larry nervously swallowed all the saliva in his mouth; his hand holding the trading slip began to tremble. For the first time, he made money in a way that even frightened him…

What he feared wasn't that the stock price would skyrocket, but that he wouldn't be able to leave this betting shop alive...

With 12 minutes left before the midday break, the latest Omaha price broke through the $100 mark, reaching $105!

Larry slammed the two transaction slips down and growled at the counter, "Close the position! Hurry up, damn it, you don't want me holding the shares until the afternoon, do you?!"

The tellers panicked. One teller took the form, her hands trembling as she held the pen, unable to write anything. A drop of ink she flicked out smudged a large part of the transaction form...

The front desk manager panicked, snatched the pen, wrote "Closed position at $105" on the transaction slip, and signed his name.

Larry rushed straight to the cashier's iron cage, whose liver trembled at the sight of him.

"Hurry up, hurry up and give me the money! I've already calculated it for you, it's $8375 in total."

The cashier felt like the sky had fallen when he heard the number. He calculated it twice, trembling, and it was correct!

成本为62.75美元的那100股，盈利4225美元；成本为65.5美元的那张单子，盈利3950美元，合计8175美元！

If we add Larry's original cost of $200, the total would be $8375.

The cashier was a little confused. He opened the safe, took out all the large bills, counted them, and said with difficulty, "But I only have $6000 here, plus some change, it won't exceed $500."

Larry glared at him. "No way! I'm telling you, my dad is a director at Colt and a candidate for Congress from Connecticut. You have to pay me back everything!" At that moment, the receptionist came over, frowning as she advised, "Sir, but we really don't have that much money."

Larger local gambling dens also have their own troubles. Their customers are more upscale than those of smaller gambling dens. In addition, gambling dens have taken away a lot of business from legitimate securities companies. As a result, their customers are a mixed bag, and there are indeed some people they can't afford to offend.

And this kid in front of me, who could casually bid $300 to buy stocks yesterday, is wearing a Colt company pony badge; he could very well be the child of some important person.

The problem is that this child appeared too suddenly. The people at the gambling den didn't know anything about him, so they really didn't dare to easily renege on their debts.

Larry frowned, his face flushed with anger, and pointed at the cashier, saying, "Then you need to pay me back all the money you can come up with, or this isn't over!!"

The cashier turned to look at the front desk manager, who frowned, glanced at Larry, hesitated for a few seconds, sighed, and tossed out a sentence to the cashier, "Do as he says!"

The cashier quickly counted out the money from the safe. He took out two $1000 bills, three $500 bills, and then various $100 and $50 bills.

Larry's heart was in his throat. He glanced at the others in the trading floor. Fortunately, it was almost closing time, and everyone's attention was focused on the final frenzy on the price charts. Not many people had noticed the unusual activity at the counters.

Larry had even quietly unbuttoned his coat, ready to reach in and pull out a gun at any moment. If any chaos broke out, he wouldn't care about the money; instead, he would immediately fire a warning shot and run for his life...

"Total, a total of $6249.5, sir, you...you..." The cashier's hands trembled as she held the counted money.

"Put the money in the bag and hand it to me. Hey, you! You're the manager, right? Write an IOU for $2125.5! Hurry up!" Larry's face was contorted with rage.

Larry didn't actually want the remaining money. He had already decided that this time, even if it was just $600, let alone $6000, he would take it and run, never to return.

But at this moment, if he showed even the slightest sign of cowardice, his true colors would be exposed to everyone at the gambling den, and he would lose more than just money.

Therefore, despite the urgency of the situation and the approaching market close time, Larry could no longer afford to appear to back down; instead, he had to project an aggressive attitude.

The manager, dressed in a navy blue suit, looked helpless, but he still took out a notepad and quickly wrote an IOU, essentially stating that he still owed the client $2125.5 in trading profits. He then wrote the name of the betting company, his own name, and the date.

The cashier put all the money in a thick brown paper bag and handed it out through the iron cage.

Larry tucked the thick brown paper under his left armpit, then took the manager's IOU, looked at it, and put it in his pocket as well.

"You two, you two security guards, escort me to my carriage. If anything happens to me, my dad won't let you off the hook!" Larry pointed at the two security guards next to the cashier's iron cage.

The two security guards were already terrified, and now, hearing Larry's aggressive demand for their escort, they quickly turned to look at the manager.

The manager waved his hand, indicating that they should do as Larry said.

Larry gave the manager a cold look. At that moment, the clock struck noon, and the crowd that had been crammed in front of the price board began to disperse amidst a murmur of disappointment.

Without further hesitation, Larry stepped out of the betting shop, his right hand resting on his chest, ready to draw his gun at any moment.

The two security guards followed behind, dumbfounded.

Larry went outside, silently praying that the carriage wouldn't leave and that he would keep his promise and stay outside.

God help me! As soon as Larry stepped out the door, he saw the carriage across the street.

The coachman, who had been leaning back in his seat smoking, then spotted Larry and raised his hat in greeting.

Larry mustered all his courage and perseverance, walking steadily towards the carriage step by step, with two security guards in gray uniforms following behind at a leisurely pace.

Larry got into the carriage, waved to the guards, and said, "You can go back now. Tell your manager I'll come back tomorrow morning to collect the rest of the money... Coachman, let's go!"

The coachman cracked his whip, and the carriage slowly began to move.

The two security guards looked at each other blankly, then nodded to Larry.

As soon as the carriage turned the corner, Larry turned around and quickly looked around. Seeing that no one was following, he opened the large box in the back containing clothes and shoes and began to change his clothes at lightning speed.

The carriage had traveled about a quarter mile and was just turning a corner between two streets when Larry suddenly handed the driver $10 and said in a serious tone,
“You’re going to the train station? I have some things to take care of. We’ll meet at the train station square. You’ll have to wait for me there for at least an hour.”

As they spoke, Larry took advantage of the carriage slowing down, opened the door, and jumped down. Behind him was the coachman's puzzled face and his voice of agreement.

Larry didn't know if anyone was watching him, but changing his route at the last minute was the best way to ensure his safety.

After Larry jumped off the carriage, he walked a few steps into the alley. He felt the gun under his arm, the wallet and pocket watch on his chest, and the heavy brown paper bag on his body. So he took out the box of old clothes and threw it into a corner of the alley.

After thinking about it, Larry even threw away his empty suede bag.

Then Larry put the thick brown paper bag into the box, pressed down his top hat to cover the pony logo on his shirt, and reappeared on the street with the box between his legs.

The streets weren't crowded at midday, so if someone was watching you, they would spot you quickly.

Larry walked on and saw police officers patrolling the intersection, which made him feel more at ease.

After walking about half a mile, Larry arrived at his destination. He hadn't noticed anyone following him, so he slipped inside the Reading Company building.

Most of the people at Reading were eating, but the front desk manager recognized Larry at a glance; the blond young man looked more energetic today.

Larry walked to the brokerage counter, slammed the box down on it, and ordered, "Deposit the money! Deposit all the money here into my account!"
.
At 1:45 p.m., in the square in front of the train station, the coachman still hadn't seen Larry. He was already 45 minutes late, but the coachman gave Larry another $10 and waited a long time.

Finally, the coachman made a decision. He had done everything he could, and it didn't count as breaking the promise; even God would forgive him. So he cracked his whip and urged the carriage away from the train station square.

Larry had been secretly observing from a corner, but he hadn't seen anyone question the coachman. Seeing the carriage finally leave, he breathed a sigh of relief.

Regardless of what happens next, it seems that his whereabouts have not been exposed and no one is following him.

That's good.

Larry adjusted his top hat and strode into the train station.

Twenty minutes later, the train roared out, spewing white steam, and slowly pulled away from the platform.

Larry sat in the first-class carriage, remaining highly vigilant until the train began to accelerate, at which point he let out a long sigh of relief.

Sigh, being a rich person is so tiring!
(End of this chapter)