My Second Chance
Copyright© 2026 by BillMax
Chapter 22: Uncommon Insight
“Ha! You mean to say they haven’t even drawn up the first blueprint for this so-called Chemical Institute? It’s completely without substance!”
Julian Vance’s son, Fiona Vance, suddenly laughed as he spoke, looking at Marcus as if he were a clown.
“Father, this kid obviously heard some rumors and now he’s throwing around grand statements. He’s just showing off like a brash young man on the streets! Ha ha ... Ha ... Huh?”
His laughter started loud and gradually became dry, fading away, his expression turning incredibly awkward.
That was because Julian Vance was staring at him with a darkened face.
“So, are you trying to say that you are the only smart one in the whole world? Or do you think our entire Pacific Group is not as well-informed as Mr. Hale alone?”
“Father, I...”
“Apologize to Mr. Hale immediately!”
“No need.”
Marcus smiled lightly. “Given Mr. Vance’s upbringing, I can understand his behavior and do not take offense, nor do I believe it reflects on you, Sir Vance.”
Though Marcus’s words seemed mysterious, Julian Vance’s pupils constricted sharply.
Because Fiona Vance did not grow up by his side. He was the adopted son of a deceased relative, whom Julian had only brought home in his teens.
This was not a secret, and there was no reason for Julian Vance to react so strongly—yet for some reason, he felt there was a deeper meaning in Marcus’s words, that they hinted at something more.
Could it be that he even knew that secret?
Julian Vance, distracted from further lecturing his daughter, pondered for a moment before asking, “Mr. Hale, in your opinion, what is the likelihood that a Chemical Institute will be constructed nearby?”
Marcus replied, “If you trust me, then it’s a hundred percent certainty. If you don’t, then what does the size of the likelihood matter?”
Julian Vance’s brows furrowed slightly, then he continued, “The current market price for river sand is far from three hundred, yet you sold it for three hundred and ten. Why not hold on and sell at an even higher price? Or do you think river sand won’t rise above three hundred and ten?”
Marcus shook his head. “The government will not allow river sand’s price to soar uncontrollably. I estimate that once the price nears two hundred and ninety-five, they will intervene to stabilize the market.”
Julian Vance’s heart skipped a beat.
That morning he had just spoken with a friend at the provincial level, who mentioned that the government’s target price was between two hundred and ninety and three hundred.
Yet it had taken him thirty years of hard work to achieve his current status—to gain the network and information channels that allowed him to be one step ahead of others.
How could Marcus Hale, a young man in his twenties, know this?
As Julian Vance thought, his expression grew more solemn. Finally he took a deep breath and reached out his hand, saying, “Indeed, one can never learn enough even as one grows old. Mr. Hale, you’re young yet perceptive. Thank you for the insight today!”
Marcus shook his hand. “You flatter me, Sir Vance. I wouldn’t dare discuss perception in your presence. Just call me Marcus.”
“Ha ha, then I shall take the liberty of my age and call you Marcus,” Julian Vance laughed, then motioned to his secretary. “In a few days, I’ll be hosting a banquet to entertain notable people and talents from Westlake City. Some of my old friends will be there. They all enjoy meeting outstanding young people, and if you’re free, Marcus, you should come and join us.”
Following his cue, the secretary quickly took out an invitation from her bag and placed it in his hand.
Marcus accepted the invitation with both hands, nodding. “I cannot refuse an offering from an elder.”
Afterward, the two said their farewells. As soon as Marcus’s motorcycle left the gate, Julian Vance had Gavin York, who was on the phone about the river sand, called over.
After hearing the whole story of their encounter and the transaction, Julian Vance instantly understood.
Marcus had predicted river sand would max out at two hundred and ninety-five, so selling it at three hundred and ten wasn’t about making more money—it was a way to punish Gavin York for his initial greed.
With a slight sigh, Julian Vance said, “A gentleman loves money and acquires it in an honest way. Remember this saying. Otherwise, next time you might lose more than just one hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
Gavin York’s mind was muddled, wanting to ask what he meant, but before he could, Julian Vance waved his hand, and a brawny man stepped forward to escort him out.
Then Julian Vance ordered sternly, “Go negotiate with Westlake University. If we can’t buy the adjacent land at a low price, then exchange it with the land across the river.”
The week-long wait agreed upon with Bryce Thornton had come. Marcus rushed to the meat processing plant, randomly checked several bags of pork against the order list and health certificates, and after confirming everything was okay, had the workers move it into cold storage.
After washing his hands, he took the paper towel handed to him by Bryce Thornton, wiping as he spoke, “This batch of meat will need to be stored in your cold storage for about five more days. However, not only do I have no intention of paying you for the storage, but I also want to sell it to you for eight million dollars.”
Bryce Thornton’s brows knitted, and before she could speak, Leo Harding behind her glared.
“What? You want to default on the payment and extort money? Marcus, have you gone mad with poverty? Do you need me to teach you how to do business?”
“A Qiang!”