Mengshu’s voice is urgent. And I’m surprised—not that David’s been border-controlled. Of course Linjun would trap the nephew of the King of IPO. That part was inevitable.

  What surprises me is how much Mengshu and Sonora care. The money’s already in our accounts. David’s usefulness expired the moment the wire cleared.

  Is Sonora in love? With a spoiled rich kid who only became a trading lead through nepotism? More importantly—with a mere human?

  And what do I tell Linjun? That I’m part of this collusion? That my operatives played a role in the market crash? That would hand Linjun leverage I can’t afford.

  I keep my voice calm. “Once his name hits the system, it leaves a trail. You can’t erase it without triggering alerts.”

  “What about a new identity?” Mengshu asks.

  "No." I reject the idea immediately. "Facial recognition tracks everyone on the list. The moment he enters the airport, he's flagged. The only way out is to smuggle him across an unguarded stretch of the border."

  “Can you help?”

  “Darling,” I say, smooth as silk, “my source is the same as yours. It depends on what you’re willing to do for him.”

  Silence.

  She knows exactly who I mean. Fuyang Zhao. The man with the hairy hands and the ugly face. We already owe him from the Erjuan case. Another favor? Someone has to pay.

  I can hear her hesitation breathing down the line. It’s not indecision. It’s dread.

  “I understand.” Her voice is hollow. Then the line goes dead.

  And just like that, the cost of love becomes measurable.

  … …

  Running a business has never been my strength. But I know brilliance when I see it. And watching Evangeline orchestrate this campaign? It’s not just mastery—it’s war strategy disguised as marketing.

  The Hightower Coin blitz isn’t a launch. It’s a detonation. Evangeline isn’t selling a crypto token. She’s selling the future—and making it feel inevitable.

  TechSpeed drops the bombshell: Decoding the Future: Inside Hightower Coin’s Genetic Revolution. Erjuan ignites readers' imaginations with a fever dream of biotech marvels—genetically engineered tea, Bordeaux vineyards on the wheel, the resurrection of traditional Rubian medicine. Her closing vision? Healthcare miracles. The possibility of everlasting life. The article detonates across the internet. Hightower Coin surges with it.

  Tech media avalanche follows—36K, PingEast, New Dimension all racing to cover the breakthroughs. Every headline glows with the Hightower Coin logo. Unlike those flimsy speculative tokens that vanish overnight, Hightower Coin earns real legitimacy.

  Financial media swarms next. The Paper, TaiXing Media, 21st Century Business Herald lead the charge. Securities Times, Shanghai Securities News, Royal Flush follow. The entire financial establishment bends the knee.

  If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  Evangeline doesn't chase the shady crypto news sites. They chase her—republishing from tech and financial outlets, painting Hightower Coin's future in brilliant gold.

  She doesn't beg exchanges for listings. They compete for her. Ruby Bit and Fire Bit fight for first-launch rights. Every major platform scrambles to onboard Hightower Coin.

  Then Wednesday morning delivers the crown jewel. The First Lady sends personal congratulations. General Secretary Xi’s calligraphy names the centerpiece product for tomorrow’s auction. The First Family’s endorsement is thunderous.

  State media erupts. Central Television and People’s Daily canonize blockchain—citing only two sacred names: Bitcoin, and the soon-to-launch Hightower Coin.

  Guangming Daily, Worker’s Daily, Rubian Financial, Southern Metropolis Daily, The Beijing Evening News—outlet after outlet amplifies our message. The doubters vanish. No one dares question the great leader’s blessing.

  Globally, Hightower Coin is everywhere. CNBC. Bloomberg. Forbes. The Economist. Financial Times. It blazes across every screen, dominates every conversation, occupies every mind.

  But Evangeline knows crypto wars aren’t won through headlines alone. She airdrops tokens to every influential voice in the crypto universe—Twitter, Facebook, LinkedIn—anyone who can ignite the speculators and day-traders hungry for the next big score.

  Her secret weapon? Insurance peddlers and success gurus—the Ruby Republic’s most lethal sales force. Ground-level armies cultivated over years.

  The Ruby Republic harbors a golden demographic: government retirees by the hundred million. Former cadres, state enterprise workers, hospital staff, teachers—all drawing generous pensions, often 80% of their working salary, inflation-adjusted. Steady income. Substantial savings. Desperately bored.

  Republic scammers harvest them like wheat, cutting them down season after season. Insurance salesmen and motivational speakers serve as their scythes, deploying seminars, speeches, and weaponized hope.

  Did you miss the real estate boom? Sleep through Bitcoin’s rise? Watch the Internet explode from the sidelines? Let the stock market rally pass you by? Don’t miss the biotech revolution led by Hightower Coin.

  All these efforts converge in one number, burning in the most prominent position on the Hightower Coin homepage.

  Registered accounts.

  From Friday's registration opening, the counter climbs relentlessly. Monday: two million. Tuesday: five million. Wednesday: ten million. By Thursday morning, before the auction begins at 6 A.M., it breaches twenty million.

  The auction streams to fifty countries in forty languages. CNN, CNBC, Fox Finance, Bloomberg, Central Television, Hunan Satellite TV—all tuned in. Evangeline hires the legendary host from Who Wants To Be A Millionaire. The symbolism is perfect. The execution, flawless.

  For two hours, scientists, celebrities, and global icons showcase biotech miracles—many obtainable only through Hightower Coin.

  Every ten minutes, Evangeline flashes the registration count. 8 A.M., it hits twenty million.

  Then the auction begins.

  The rules are brutal in their simplicity. One million coins per round. Five minutes. Instant payment required.

  Each account submits quantity and price. Top one million bids win. Ties break by timestamp—earliest wins.

  Round one launches at noon sharp. Next to the count down of time, three numbers dominate the screen: registered accounts—still climbing. Total money committed. Lowest winning bid.

  The screen visualization shows money pouring in from all over the world in various currencies, but the price figures shown to the Rubians are in RMB.

  Base price: 1.22 RMB.

  Minute one: lowest winning bid hits five RMB.

  Minute two: passes eight RMB.

  Minute three: twelve RMB. Three hundred million dollars floods the pool.

  Minute four: seven hundred million RMB committed. Lowest winning bid: over twenty-seven RMB.

  Then panic detonates. Losing bidders scramble, throwing money at the screen. When the bell chimes, three billion RMB has been committed. Lowest winning price: fifty-two RMB. Registered accounts surge past thirty million.

  Round two begins instantly. New base price: 26.05 RMB. But here’s the catch—losing bids aren’t refunded. Not until the end of last round. That money rolls forward, locked in.

  Round two opens with over three billion dollars already committed.

  I watch the numbers climb, breath caught in my throat.

  And I realize: this isn’t a product launch.

  It’s dawn of a new beginning.