Reborn in Tokyo: From Heiress to Global Tycoon

(Thanks to "Forever Love kanade" for the gift! Thank you for your support! And thank you to the amazing "Even if I die, it's worth it" for the certification! There will be two chapters today and tomorrow~)

Late September, New York.

World Trade Center No. 7.

"...So if we follow the plan we finalized last week and place the first batch of adjustments in early October, the duration change will not be too significant."

Peter Walsh held the phone in one hand and pressed down on several forms spread out on the table with the other.

"We have recalculated the prepayment speed. Given the current interest rate environment, the original assumptions were indeed a bit conservative, but the impact is still within an acceptable range."

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

Walsh didn't care.

He looked down and turned the page, finding the mark he had just made on the yellow notepad covered in numbers next to him.

"The second phase is what we really need to pay attention to."

"If you're still planning to complete the entire portfolio adjustment before the end of the year, I suggest splitting up the portion originally concentrated in November. We can start with one-third, and the rest depending on market conditions—"

He stopped abruptly at this point.

It was so quiet on the phone.

The sounds from the office suddenly became exceptionally clear.

Dozens of telephones rang incessantly, and someone nearby shouted out a price across two rows of desks, while printers spat out sheets of paper one after another.

In the more distant trading area, several people staring at the screen simultaneously looked up, then quickly looked down again.

There was no sound at all from the receiver in his own hand.

Walsh frowned, moved the phone slightly away, and then put it back to his ear.

"Charles?"

Still no answer.

"Can you hear me?"

He reached out and touched the telephone line.

"Charles?"

Several seconds later, a voice finally came from the other end of the phone.

"I am here."

Walsh stopped.

"I thought there was something wrong with the line."

"no."

After the other person finished speaking, there was a moment of silence.

That pause caused Walsh's previously relaxed expression to slowly fade.

He has known Charles McCormick for almost eight years.

From the time Walsh was just a young man in the agency's sales department, constantly on the phone trying to find clients, the other party was doing business with Solomon.

In the earliest year, it was only tens of millions of US dollars.

Later it became 100 million, then 200 million, and the amount kept increasing.

By now, the number of bond transactions processed by Salomon Brothers for Northern United Life Insurance each year is far greater than it used to be.

The two men had even met each other's wives.

When McCormick's eldest son went to college, Walsh even sent him a greeting card.

They rarely need to spend so much time considering how to start a conversation anymore.

"Peter."

McCormick finally spoke.

Did you read the newspaper today?

Walsh paused for a moment.

"What?"

"This morning's newspaper."

"..."

Walsh glanced instinctively at the corner of his desk.

There was a copy of The Wall Street Journal lying there.

The New York Times is also listed below.

On the next table lay a copy of the New York Post, which no one knew who had finished reading, its cover half-covered by a coffee cup.

"I've seen it."

Of course he saw it.

In fact, ever since that damned thing came out, the entire Solomon Islands has probably become the most loyal newspaper subscriber in all of New York.

Previously, the first thing people in the trading department did when they entered the office in the morning was to check the market.

Look at the interest rate changes, or maybe the Federal Reserve is going crazy again.

It's different now.

Now, when the newspaper is delivered every morning, the first thing many people do is look for their company name.

Then pray that today's headlines aren't worse than yesterday's.

Unfortunately, such prayers have rarely been answered lately.

The same goes for today.

The names of the Treasury Department, the Justice Department, and the Securities and Exchange Commission once again appeared in different pages, with one report after another surrounding the investigation, subpoenas, and Treasury auctions.

Even news that clients are beginning to reassess their business relationships with Solomon is no longer surprising.

These topics still occupied a significant portion of the newspaper this morning.

Moreover, the content was clearly not pleasant.

Walsh was still wondering how to continue the conversation, but McCormick had already saved him the trouble.

"The report says that another organization is reviewing your transaction volume again."

"They also said that the scope of the government's investigation may be further expanded."

McCormick said on the other end of the phone.

"The matter isn't over with the Department of Justice either."

"This morning's report also mentioned that some people believe your problems now go beyond just a few irregular bids."

Walsh did not respond.

Of course he knew all that.

They even know more than the newspapers do.

At least he knew how many company meetings had been going on until late at night in recent days, and how many people he would never normally see were constantly going in and out of those offices upstairs.

"Furthermore, I also saw a comment."

"They're discussing whether Solomon can continue its current government bond business if things continue to deteriorate."

After I finished speaking, both sides of the phone went silent.

The office was anything but quiet.

The phone kept ringing from the trading area just a few dozen steps away.

Some people stood by the table quoting prices, while others held receivers and gestured to the people next to them as they spoke.

The printer and fax machine beeped every now and then.

If you only close your eyes and listen, today seems no different from six months ago.

But Walsh knew things were different now.

After a long while, McCormick spoke again.

"Walsh."

"Um."

"Tell me the truth."

He softened his tone a little.

"Can Solomon hold on?"

Walsh paused for two seconds, his hand holding the phone still.

Can it still hold on?

He was actually very curious about this question as well.

God knows if Solomon can hold on.

Six months ago, if someone had asked him this question, he would probably have thought the person had lost their mind.

These are the Solomon brothers!

They deal in bonds and they also do trading.

They provide quotes to some of the world's largest institutional clients.

Countless Wall Street firms are watching their every move, and countless young traders are desperate to get into this building.

Now, a client who has been working with him for eight years has started to seriously inquire:

Will you go bankrupt?

For a fleeting moment, Walsh even considered asking a counter-question—

How would I know?

He's just an agency salesman.

What does that mess of government bond auctions have to do with him?

He never forged client bids for anyone, nor did he touch those damned irregular declarations.

Most people in this building have never touched it.

But the newspapers won't separate them.

The customer wouldn't either.

Now, people outside will only pay attention to one name.

Salomon Brothers.

So a few people caused trouble, and thousands of people suffered as a result.

Walsh hasn't even seriously thought about this year's bonus for a long time.

Because the more pressing issue has recently become—

Will he still be sitting here at the end of this year?

When layoffs actually happen, the HR department will never circle Peter Walsh on the list just because he has a clean record.

These thoughts swirled in my mind, but the words I actually uttered were completely different.

"Charles."

Walsh adjusted his posture, and his voice regained its usual calmness when discussing business.

"I won't tell you that newspapers are all nonsense, because you wouldn't believe me anyway."

There was no response from the other end of the phone.

"Things are indeed very troublesome, and we have indeed lost some business recently."

"But you should notice that the situation has begun to stabilize over the past few days."

Walsh glanced at another clipping on the table.

"Saionji has already entered."

"That Japanese man?"

"Saionji Satsuki."

Walsh corrected him and continued:

"You should have seen the market reaction when she first came here a few days ago. At least people are finally starting to believe that someone is seriously considering providing Salomon with new long-term capital."

"Their professional team has officially moved in today."

"Finance, legal, risk, investment, they've all come."

As he spoke, his tone became somewhat more relaxed.

At least these words weren't entirely meant to comfort the customer.

Yes, they also have Saionji Temple.

The whole company has been talking about this since this morning.

People were talking about it in the elevator, the coffee shop, and on the trading floor.

Almost everyone knew that the behemoth from Tokyo had begun to truly examine Solomon's books.

At times like these, the fact that someone is willing to take a serious look at the accounts is far better than having no one care at all.

"Saionji is a client we've been working with for many years, and you know how much business they've done here."

"As long as their formal support comes in..."

Walsh paused for a moment.

Everything will be alright.

The phone went silent again.

Walsh himself felt that his statement was somewhat too boastful.

But at a point like this, a salesperson can't very well tell a client they've been working with for eight years—

Brother, I don't know either. Let's all pray together.

After a while, McCormick finally spoke.

"I understand what you mean."

"So, what's our plan?"

"Let me think about it some more."

Walsh's heart sank.

"Charles, we've been doing this for over two months—"

"I know."

McCormick interrupted him, his voice tinged with apology.

"That's why I called you first, instead of having the legal department contact you directly, because it's been going on for more than two months."

Walsh's remaining words were cut off.

Give me a few days.

"I need to speak with the investment committee again."

"it is good."

That was the only answer Walsh could give.

"If you have any questions, feel free to call me anytime."

"certainly."

They exchanged a few more words.

The phone hangs up.

Walsh remained seated in the same position for a while.

It wasn't until another phone rang next to him that he seemed to suddenly realize what was happening and shoved the receiver back into the receiver.

"Damn it."

He muttered a curse under his breath.

"Even McCormick is like this."

"Then you're already quite lucky."

Someone nearby chimed in.

Walsh turned his head and saw Eddie Morrison, who had just finished his phone call, across the narrow aisle in the middle.

He pressed the receiver back down harder than usual, and his face looked even worse than Walsh's.

"What's wrong on your end again?"

"The Pennsylvania account."

Morrison pulled his suit jacket off the back of the chair and draped it over his arm, then reached for the cigarette case on the table.

"I was just informed that we are temporarily suspending new transactions with you."

Walsh frowned as he listened.

"Pennsylvania...so it's suspended government bonds?"

"If I had only lost the government bonds, I would be in a better mood now."

Morrison glanced at him.

"All operations have been suspended."

"Bonds, buybacks, and the arrangement that was originally planned to be renegotiated next month—all of these are to be suspended for now. Deals that have already been concluded will continue to be settled normally. Other than that, nothing else will be done for the time being."

Walsh fell silent.

That account had been working with Morrison longer than he had with McCormick.

Over the past few years, although the other party has not been Solomon’s largest client, they have remained quite stable and rarely changed their arrangements due to any market fluctuations.

"How long did they say the shutdown would last?"

"That's the worst part."

Morrison stuffed the cigarette pack into his suit pocket and gave a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth.

"Their legal representative originally said 'temporary'."

"And translated into English, it's like—who knows when it will recover."

Walsh was silent for two seconds, then stared at Morrison for a long while.

"On the bright side, at least you don't have to guess what they mean anymore."

"Yes, it's definitely good news..."

Morrison smiled helplessly, then patted the cigarette case in his suit pocket and winked at someone outside.

Walsh immediately understood and took out cigarettes from the drawer as well.

"Walk."

The two people left their workstations one after the other.