Too Late to Hold Me Back novel Chapter 1109

The major players had taken a beating, but they had a safety net of financial derivatives, diversified portfolios, and ironclad bank backing.

They would lick their wounds and be back on the board in no time.

The true casualties were the retail investors who had blindly followed the trend, especially those who had recklessly shoved all their chips into one basket.

They were wiped out entirely, stripped of their savings, their livelihoods, and in many cases, their will to go on.

Once the titans yanked their massive capital out, the Siamese Baht surged violently.

Vivienne Voss stared at her monitor in shock. How did a slow climb suddenly turn into a vertical spike?

Before her brain could even process the data, a flurry of margin call alerts bombarded her screen.

Jolting into action, she frantically tried to close her positions. But before she could finish typing, a massive red exclamation mark flashed across the display.

Her account had been forcefully liquidated!

Nearly a billion dollars—evaporated into thin air.

Vivienne weakly checked her remaining balance. The pitiful fraction returned after the forced liquidation wasn't even enough to cover a flight home.

All the strength drained from her limbs. She slipped from her ergonomic chair, collapsing to the floor.

Over at the Wall Street Exchange, James was practically glued to the monitors, his eyes wide. "Miss Mercer, you called it perfectly.

From now on, you're a god in my eyes. I bow to no one but you."

Mr. Whitlock and the rest of the team were thoroughly unfazed. On the trading floor, Mira's word was absolute law, and they followed it without question.

When the market closed for the afternoon, Mira's group stepped out of the exchange, passing several ruined traders being carried out by security.

Wesley watched the grim procession for a moment. "This game really isn't meant for ordinary people."

"It's par for the course. It happens during every market crash,"

She wasn't his wife. She was Amy Sinclair, his personal assistant and mistress.

His actual wife and children resided in a breathtaking estate on the other side of the city, living in the lap of luxury on the massive allowance his office wired them every month.

Strangers had no idea they were part of a billionaire dynasty, let alone connected to the infamous Jason Croft.

Based on their spending habits, the local socialites merely assumed they were comfortably rich.

"Darling, I've had dinner prepared—"

Amy cut herself off, noticing the dark circles under his eyes. "Is everything okay? Did you run into trouble today?"

Jason shook his head. "Just work. An investment didn't pan out. It's nothing I can't handle."

With a soft sigh, Amy gently helped him out of his coat...