Chapter 140: The Great Falloff Of Quin Records

The penthouse lounge hosting our exclusive VIP afterparty was buzzing with energy, sleek ambient lighting, and elite industry figures all talking about Ruby’s legendary blackout performance.

As our motorcade pulled up to the private venue entrance, I spotted Fastine Hope standing near the velvet ropes. She was desperately trying to sweet-talk her way past the door team, her usual cool arrogance completely gone as she begged for a few minutes inside to speak with us.

I stepped out of the vehicle, adjusting my suit jacket, and walked past her without even breaking my stride.

"I’m sorry, ma’am, your name isn’t on the list," the head security guard said firmly, stepping up to block her path completely.

"Do you know who I am?!" Fastine hissed, her voice cracking with desperation. "I need to see Ethan! Just let me in for five minutes!"

I turned back slightly, catching the guard’s eye, and gave a quiet, subtle nod. "Keep the entry restricted," I ordered calmly. "No uninvited guests."

"Right away, sir," the guard replied, placing a heavy arm across the line as two more security personnel stepped in front of her. Fastine watched in total horror and embarrassment as the doors closed in her face, completely shut out from the very night she tried to ruin.

Inside, the party was in full swing. I walked over to the private VIP section, grabbing two drinks, and went straight to chill with Ruby on the plush leather lounge sofa. She leaned her head on my shoulder, looking radiant and completely at peace after the sheer adrenaline of the concert.

Chloe walked over, sitting beside us with a glass of champagne, taking in the pounding bass and glowing lights of the club floor.

"You know," Chloe sighed with an amused smile, swirling her glass, "I’m really not a club type."

"Yeah, well," I laughed smoothly, pulling her gently toward the open floor, "you better be tonight. We’re celebrating an absolute victory."

Chloe let out a dramatic, endearing sigh, but she couldn’t hide the soft smile playing on her lips.

"Fine... just for tonight," she murmured.

We stepped onto the VIP floor together, Ruby catching my other hand with an electric grin as the beat dropped. Wrapped between the two of them under the flashing lights, surrounded by the music that had just taken over the world, we danced away the rest of the night—knowing our real empire was only just beginning.

The cool morning breeze off the balcony helped clear the remaining haze from last night’s afterparty, though the luxury designer PJs and comfortable slides made lounging out here a whole lot easier.

I took one sip of the fresh coffee I’d just brewed, immediately made a face, and set the mug down on the glass railing. Absolute garbage. I reached into the ice bucket on the outdoor table instead, popped open a chilled bottle of champagne, and poured myself a glass. Much better. Breakfast of champions.

I pulled up my private banking app, staring at that clean, beautiful $1,803,420,150.00 sitting in my account.

$1.8 billion liquid. It was a massive haul, but my mind was already racing. I needed the next move. A single concert was just the proof of concept; now I needed a massive, high-impact target—maybe finding another criminally underrated talent, stepping into a crisis, making a calculated play, and playing the hero while triggering another insane multiplier on my capital.

I opened up the global financial news feeds to check the opening bell, and what I saw brought a slow, lethal smile to my face.

Quin Records was undergoing a complete nuclear meltdown.

Their stock ticker was painted in bright, flashing red, collapsing by an astounding 79% within the first hour of trading. The financial headlines were brutal:

"QUIN RECORDS STOCKS PLUMMET 79% FOLLOWING BLACKOUT SABOTAGE LEAKS"

"LIVE ON TV: THREE MAJOR BOARD MEMBERS RESIGN AMID MORAL AND FINANCIAL COLLAPSE"

"INSTITUTIONAL INVESTORS PULL OUT ENTIRELY AS COLDZON SHOWCASE FLOPS"

An internal memo—along with security footage from our arena’s perimeter confirming their logistics team had tampered with our main grid power transformer—had been leaked directly to the press overnight. Fastine’s desperate ploy hadn’t just backfired; it had destroyed the label’s entire institutional credibility.

While I was sipping vintage champagne on my balcony, Quin Records’ major shareholders were panicking, dumping millions of shares at rock-bottom prices, desperate to sell before the company hit rock bottom.

Chloe walked out onto the balcony, looking effortlessly chic in an oversized silk robe, holding her tablet in one hand and a bottle of sparkling water in the other. She looked over at my champagne glass, then down at my phone screen showing Quin’s stock chart in freefall.

"Morning, boss," she said with a razor-sharp smirk. "I see you’re enjoying the financial bloodbath."

"It’s a beautiful sight, isn’t it?" I murmured, taking a slow sip. "Fastine thought she was playing chess, but she ended up burning down her own house."

"Quin Records is on life support," Chloe noted, leaning against the railing beside me. "Their market cap just dissolved, their board is in complete disarray, and their top talent is looking for the nearest exit door. If someone wanted to buy up a controlling stake in the entire company right now for pennies on the dollar..."

I turned my head toward her, the wheels in my head spinning fast as I looked at my $1.8 billion balance. I had someone to meet.

---

I stepped out of the luxury sedan just as Fastine’s personal assistant—a sharp, exhausted-looking woman who had been single-handedly keeping Quin Records’ crumbling operations afloat—was walking toward the corporate entrance, holding two coffee cups and her tablet.

My blacked-out executive convoy pulled up quietly alongside the curb, blocking her path just enough to catch her attention. Two security guards stepped out smoothly, holding the rear door open for me.

She froze, her eyes widening as I stepped out, dressed in a custom tailored suit, looking entirely unbothered by the morning cold.

"Good morning," I said, my voice smooth and authoritative. "Walk with me. We need to talk."