The Shadow Tycoon
Copyright© 2026 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 6
“Today’s money...”
Mr. Fox stared at the sack William had hauled in, the man clearly having strained himself, making two trips back and forth. He fell silent for a moment.
Truth be told, his people had been watching William the entire time. He already knew exactly how William had gathered these coins. What he felt now was a mix of curiosity and shock.
What kind of mind could come up with a method like this, one that could gather such a volume of coins so quickly, yet leave barely a ripple across society?
At this moment, he could easily replicate William’s method and cut out that ten percent fee entirely.
But he had no intention of doing so.
Because all at once, he realized something. Compared to that ten percent, what truly had value was William’s mind, that constantly surprising mind was the real asset.
“Want to count it?” William straightened up, stretched his back, let out a breath, then dropped into the chair without a care for appearances. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lit one, and took a slow drag. “I can wait.”
Mr. Fox shook his head and gestured for his men to take the coins away. Later, the money would be delivered to the IRS for counting and registration, taxed, then deposited into the bank.
For people like Mr. Fox, there had never really been a good solution to these problems.
To put it bluntly, most people in this line of work were not exactly members of the social elite.
They lacked higher education. Many had no understanding of specialized fields. Some barely knew how to read.
Their business did not require any of that. All it required was a willingness to face danger and trouble. And that came with its own set of problems.
In recent years, across the Federal Reserve, the FBI and the IRS had been watching people like them closely. Not just to catch them in the act, but to keep an eye on the money in their pockets.
They had little legitimate business. That meant constant trouble. Having money but being unable to spend it became a quiet kind of torment.
To counter this, the Federal Reserve had introduced a series of regulations restricting large cash transactions. Under these rules, any cash deal exceeding five thousand dollars had to be reported. Anything over fifty thousand would be subject to review.
Even depositing large sums into a bank required advance disclosure of the source of funds and intended use, along with sufficient documentation proving taxes had been properly paid.
With restrictions from every direction, combined with the tight watch kept by those IRS officers labeled “Special Agent” or “Agent,” life had become difficult for everyone in this business.
Their vaults were stuffed with cash, yet they could not take it out. Even spending it for pleasure risked drawing targeted scrutiny. It was a miserable way to live.
But now, in William, Mr. Fox saw something different. Not just the coin operation, but something more, something he had always wanted.
He snapped back to himself, glanced at William, and gave a small shrug. “I should pay you...”
“Round it down, five hundred sixty dollars.” William casually shaved off a few dollars from the total, a gesture meant to build trust.
Mr. Fox smiled faintly. He pulled open a drawer filled with cash, stacks of it, including plenty of fifty- and hundred-dollar bills.
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