Rising above time and the universe, a tale of chosen souls, united by fate.
My name is Nuevo Vesper.
The world didn’t exactly roll out the red carpet for me. Life never handed me any free passes. No sob stories here, though; the world’s dealt its hand, and I’ve played my cards just fine. If anything, the universe thought it needed a wildcard like me to shake things up a bit.
I delivered.
Without family ties, I was free from the suffocating embrace of obligations and emotional baggage. Parents? Never met ’em. Relatives? A blank slate. And frankly, that was a blessing in disguise. You might think that’s cold, but in the world I’ve been thrust into, family is like a neon sign flashing above your head saying, “Here’s a weak spot!” And anyone who knows a thing about business will tell you: minimize your vulnerabilities.
You’d probably wager I’m some kingpin running an underground empire. But let me clear things up—drugs, pfft, that’s boring. Truth is, the drug money comes from the same crusty old “elites” who’ll sip on their aged whiskey while lambasting the so-called ‘scourge’ of drugs on their prime-time news shows.
They’re the puppet masters pulling the strings behind it all. That’s just my thoughts on it.
I’m not out here dodging bullets from gangs or cartels. No, my game is far more cerebral. I like to take a potential market, give it a little twist, and watch the chaos unfold. Money, power, and influence—the trifecta that drives our world—I’ve peered behind its veil, and let me tell you, it’s a murky world.
So, my claim to fame?
Merging predictive artificial intelligence with horse racing to create rock solid betting strategies. Sounds outlandish? Strap in, because you’re about to get a masterclass on how a street kid without a past became the master of his own destiny.
Learn this term: market disruption.
Picture this, everything’s running smooth, businesses got their groove, and customers know what’s up. But then, outta nowhere, someone rolls in with this crazy, fresh idea or product, flipping the whole script! Now, this ain’t just some small tweak or new flavor. Nah, it’s groundbreaking—changing how people buy, sell, or even think about that whole market. That’s my specialty.
Understand this shit, and you’ll be there right beside me.
Business Pro-Tip: Market disruption is often born in the shadow of complacency. When established market leaders become too comfortable or static, they create fertile ground for innovative minds to sow the seeds of change. To truly capitalize on this, always keep a vigilant eye on industries with players resting on their laurels. Dive deep, analyze their gaps, and understand their customer pain points. Once identified, that’s your entry point. Remember, innovation isn’t just about introducing something new – it’s about improving, refining, and offering a better alternative. In stagnant waters, even the smallest ripple can become a tidal wave. So, disrupt wisely, and you won’t just enter the market – you’ll redefine it.
Late one night—after I had made my millions—I was headed to an extremely exclusive downtown bar, owned by one Jacob Lockwood, son of a deceased oil baron. These guys made their billions overseas, then came stateside, tossing their money around and started calling the shots in the tech investment game.
The second I stepped foot in that bougie joint, the air was thick with this “we’re better than you” kinda vibe. You know, the whole polished wood, fancy books, and that too-cool-for-school attitude, with a side order of spicy cigar smoke. Man, everything was screaming old-school riches. Not just the kind you hustle for, but the type passed down like some grandma’s secret recipe.
Making my way through those dim hallways, it was all too clear—this was ‘Old Money’ territory. The older dudes, suited up like they stepped out of a GQ mag, their stares sharper than their tailored suits. And the women? Decked out in gems that probably got stories from like three centuries ago.
There’s just this different vibe you get from folks born with a silver spoon versus those who hustled hard for every dime. It’s in the way they hold themselves, the way they shoot a look, and even in that casual, “I own this place” kinda swagger.
‘Old Money’? It ain’t just about fat bank accounts. It’s all about where you come from, the stories your family tells, and sticking to the old ways. It’s riches that’s been marinated over generations, wrapped up in old mansions, art stuff, and being in that elite club. These folks have prepped from birth for that A-list life, always getting that VIP treatment.
Old money. It’s a whisper in the wind, a nod in the right club, an invite to that exclusive soirée where decisions affecting nations are made over cocktails. They’re born into a world of privilege and connections, always a step ahead in the status game.
But we’re ‘New Money’. The hustlers, the innovators, the ones who burnt the midnight oil and turned dreams into empires. But even if you’re rolling in a fresh-off-the-lot Lambo, there’s this invisible line between us and them. A little “you can’t sit with us” kinda barrier that keeps the self-made folks just a touch out of reach from the old-guard elite. The new kids on the block got the dough, sure. But that age-old nod of “you belong”? That’s a tougher club to crack.
But the juiciest part? The ‘Old Money’ crew? They’re low-key shook. ‘Cause while they’re chilling, clinging to the past, the world isn’t waiting. New businesses, tech game-changers, and the once-looked-down-upon ‘new rich’ are starting to set the rules.
And where do I fit in this drama? Well, I saw the tide turning. Old money’s all about that prestige life, but New money? We’re the ones pulling the strings for tomorrow. The arena might be this posh, cigar-clouded place, but the real showdown? It’s out there, in the big, bold world.
So, walking through this jungle of snobby tones and side-eyes, I locked onto Jacob Lockwood, chilling in his throne-like seat with all these yes-men buzzing around. The dude screamed “I come from long money,” right down to that air of owning the place—like you could trace his family’s wealth back a few centuries.
Now, Lockwood’s been hounding me to sell my AI-powered horse betting software and the website it powered, but I hadn’t given him an answer yet. And as much as I can’t stand his type, the number he dropped was mind boggling—$300 million.
He probably thought I’d just roll over and take the bait.
Thing is, I’m already swimming in money. And it’s not just about dollar bills anymore; money is a power play, a chess piece, a vibe. His big spendy move didn’t dazzle me. It just showed his cards. I smelled a hint of desperation in that fat offer, that age-old tactic of flashing the wallet. All it did was shout, “I’m on the ropes.”
So, I figured I’d just drop by his bar and see what he’s really about. While he’s busy flashing his wealth, I’m thinking ten moves ahead.
“Nuevo Vesper,” Lockwood lobbed at me, still lounging like the king of swank in his plush chair. Dude didn’t even bother getting up. His snooty, “better-than-you” tone—the kind they probably teach in those fancy schools for the ultra-rich—turned heads, making it crystal clear we were about to have some kind of showdown. “Always a pleasure. Though, I must admit, I scarcely imagined you’d be comfortable in such… refined surroundings.”
I had to bite back the urge to wipe that cocky grin off his face. “Thought I’d take a stroll down, see how those who believe they’ve ‘crafted’ the world truly live.”
With an amused smirk dancing on his lips, he gestured to his drink—an aged whiskey—lifting it in the air. “Behold, a taste worth a grand for merely a sip.”
I wasn’t about to be played, so I hit back, tone all sharp, “I’ll take a swing at that and then some.”
But there was an odd twinkle of mischief in his eyes. “Ah, but you’ve missed my point,” he retorted.
Then, like he was in some movie, he snapped his fingers, and this snazzy-looking guy, decked out in threads that probably cost more than my car, hurried over.
Lockwood grinned. “Dispose of fifty bottles of this whiskey. Pour them down the drain, right over there.”
And without a second’s hesitation, the attendant obliged, seemingly happy to waste what amounted to a quarter mil in liquid gold. I got his point. I didn’t show it, but I did feel the cringe of jealousy at his ability to toss away money without a care.
With a theatrical sweep of his hand, Lockwood gloated, observing the nonchalant reactions of the onlookers. But then, that icy, mocking laugh, the one I’d come to loathe, escaped his lips. “Should you fancy yourself a formidable adversary, remember your place, Vesper. In our world, you’ll forever remain the nouveau riche—perhaps wealthy by common standards, but eternally yearning for our king making nod of recognition.”
I tilted my head, a smirk playing at the edge of my lips. “Revolution begins with just one person, Lockwood. And there’s a lot of ‘nouveau riche’ coming up.”
He took a pretentious sip of his pretentious aged whiskey, savoring the taste before replying. “I had a brother like you. Wanted to throw away his name and go pursue some sound technology that could help the world. And his creation destroyed him.”
He leaned a bit closer, ever so slightly as if he didn’t want me to consciously realize he was threatening me. “We funded the revolutions you speak about. Not me or my family, personally. But the very nature of ‘old money.’ You see, even your ‘new money’ has its roots in the old. It trickles down from us, no matter how innovative or self-made you think you are.”
I edged closer, my gaze sharp. “There isn’t a single dollar of mine with your name signed on it.”
Lockwood chuckled, swirling the golden liquid in his glass. “Not directly, of course. The structures that allowed you to prosper? All crafted by families like mine. So, while you celebrate your newfound riches, remember you’re playing in a sandbox we built.”
I took a moment, then replied, “It’s the new kids who are building the castles now. And sooner or later, your old guard will be playing in our shadows.”
Lockwood’s lips curved into that infuriatingly patronizing smile of his. “Don’t take offense to what I’m saying. It’s a simple truth. Every dog has its day. You’ve managed to rise from the ashes of your, well, humble beginnings. Give it a few generations, and maybe your descendants could rub elbows with the ‘lesser lords and barons’ of the world. Just take the deal. Here, let me show you what ‘old money’ is capable of. $315 million for your company. Guaranteed offer.”
His words triggered an echo from the past, dredging up a chat I had with this cryptic dude who, out of nowhere, just popped up in my condo one day. Goes by “The Revelator,” but under all that mystique, he’s just Benedict Lockwood – the younger sibling of our dear Jacob. How’s that for a twist?
“Listen and understand,” The Revelator had begun, with that signature cryptic tone. “Life’s like the seasons. From the fresh buds of spring to the deathly chill of winter. Even when a tree seems like it’s given up, its seeds are gearing up for a new beginning. They’re the future. And you best believe, everything’s on the move, always changing. Even that wad of bills you’re clutching onto.”
Spring. Summer. Winter. Fall. Do you see?
So yeah, dude spoke in these cryptic puzzles, felt like he was spitting bars only he could vibe to. But right there, drowning in Lockwood’s bougie-ass digs, shit snapped into focus, his words made sense. I could feel every eyeball in the joint sizing me up, making their silent calls.
I shot back, that cheeky grin fixed on, tossing his lofty vibes right back at him. “While you’re out here sipping on that old-school glory, I’m crafting the future. You remember that bit about the student becoming the master?”
His expression remained smug, but a flicker of irritation flashed in his eyes. “You can’t rewrite history with your checkbook, Nuevo. Pedigree isn’t up for sale. Either the universe chooses you to be born one of us, or it doesn’t. So, are you taking the deal?”
I edged in, real close, catching that flicker of pretend confidence in his eyes. “Some plays are bigger than just passing bucks.” I rose up, letting the tension hang for a sec. “Nah, no deal.”
As I turned on my heel and prepared to leave, I knew this was just the opening move in a game of chess that would span empires. It wasn’t about the coins in our pockets, but the legacy I’d etch in the annals of history.
Business Pro-Tip: In the ever-shifting landscape of commerce, it’s not just about the amount of money you have but how you leverage it to shape the future. Legacy and lineage might offer a platform, but true business prowess lies in the ability to adapt, innovate, and seize emerging opportunities. As market dynamics evolve, clinging to past glories or old methodologies can become an anchor. To truly make a mark and craft a lasting legacy, one must be ready to challenge the status quo, identify and harness disruptive potential, and have the foresight to not just play the game but redefine its rules. Remember, it’s the visionaries who don’t just make history – they write it.
I’ve never quite wrapped my head around why these old money elites have such a hard-on for horse racing. Maybe it’s the thrill of the race, or perhaps just a fetish for the equestrian? But around here, owning and racing a top-tier thoroughbred is like having a crown on your head. It’s their world, their rules. And let me tell you, their world? It’s alien. The things they obsess over would leave the average Joe scratching his head. Their priorities revolve around this age-old mantra: “If it’s pricier, it’s superior, and that means I’m better than you.”
Rolling up in a supercar? Sure, it’s got its moments – heads turn, jaws drop. But damn, those metallic beasts are thirstier for maintenance than a socialite is for attention. Clock in just over 500 miles and you’re looking at another costly pitstop for maintenance. More trouble than they’re worth if you ask me.
So when I feel like putting on a show, especially to dazzle the ladies during a weekend escapade, I rent. Why get tied down? See, when you buy, that car’s value drops the second you roll out the lot. But leasing? That’s an easy business write-off. You end up saving some green and cruising in a slicker ride. But there’s always that those that’ll argue about it, ’cause that ‘Old Money’ mindset’s got them all twisted.
They penned the playbook for themselves and scribbled some side notes for the likes of us. Thing is, they never really barred us from playing by their rules. Nah, we just caged ourselves up, making our own chains. Funny thing is, many of these Old Money types don’t even own a car. They don’t drive. They pay someone else to do it. Tax write-offs.
But that’s the ‘Old Money’ trap, isn’t it? They’ve painted this image, pushing the narrative that ownership equals status. That if you aren’t drowning in material possessions, even the ones that drop in value the second you buy them, you’re just another loser. They’ll have you chasing empty status, blowing your wealth on glitzy but depreciating bling, all while the true moguls chuckle.
My strategy? A bit more street-smart. While they parade around in their genuine $10000 suits, I’m here, looking every bit the part in my top-notch replicas. Because when the sun sets, it’s not about the brand labels or the car keys you jingle. It’s about the empire you’re constructing and the weight of your wallet.
Business Pro-Tip: Understand and utilize the financial “rules” established by traditional wealth systems. Many old money establishments, like the tax code, have provisions that can be leveraged to maximize income and minimize expenses. For example, leasing a car can be a tax write-off, which can lead to considerable savings. Instead of feeling restricted by these systems, educate yourself on their intricacies. Those in positions of longstanding wealth often utilize these strategies to their advantage. By familiarizing yourself with these rules and using them wisely, you can level the playing field and ensure you’re making the most informed financial decisions.
But, hold up a sec. Before we dive any deeper, let’s rewind and peep how I even landed here, posted up with Lockwood and his high-and-mighty vibes, with a cool $315 mil on the line:
Simply put, my childhood sucked. But where there’s shittiness, there’s a chance for opportunity.
When I think back to my roots, the streets, the chaos, the mess—I always had an eye on the horizon. A vision of something grander than what was laid out in front of me. My buddies, drowning in vices and tangled up in short-term hustles, never really saw what I saw. I spotted a gap, people with cash burning holes in their pockets and a need to fill. Thought to myself, “If I can cater to that, bring some value to the table, then the cash should flow easy, right?”
So, I crafted a foolproof system, guiding these guys into colleges, helping ’em navigate the labyrinth of financial aid packages to squeeze out every scholarship and grant available.
Now, this wasn’t some strategy that everyone had access to, wasn’t a lot of public aid available for students. You needed a sharp and focused mind to dig deep and find it. I took pride in it, y’know? Uplifting those around me, showing them horizons they never even dreamt of touching. But don’t get it twisted: this wasn’t some saintly act. It was a business transaction, pure and simple.
The deal was cut and dried. They get their education, and once the universities got their cut, a slice of the remaining pie was meant for me. Easy-peasy. This could’ve been my ticket to a somewhat comfortable life, the stepping stone I was desperately searching for.
But, life’s a sneaky little bugger and loves a good plot twist. A big chunk of those I helped? They backstabbed me, taking the cash and leaving me hanging, chasing shadows. The kicker? Many dropped out, slipping back into the familiar embrace of crime and drug peddling.
See, growing up penniless does a number on you. It’s like an inky tattoo on your soul, making you chase the very thing you resent—money. But if I was to carve out a space in the business world, I knew I had to shake off these ancient vendettas against the green.
If I kept up with my skewed relationship with money, I’d be my own worst enemy, tripping over my feet till I gave in. So, I scrapped every misguided notion I held about money and how to make money and dove headfirst into the abyss.
For example, check this out—you know how most people roll their eyes at marketing, cursing out loud every time a ‘spam email’ shows up? But what was my move? I purposely hopped on every marketing list of those top-tier brands I vibed with, breaking down their game, getting the lowdown on their strategies. To push real value, I had to understand it first. Had to make it resonate within before I could pitch it out. Now, when we’re talking about grasping and laying down the real worth of a product?
I’ve got that game on lock.
Business Pro-Tip: Business and wealth isn’t just about transactions; it’s a mindset game. Growing up with certain beliefs about money can hold you back, tethering you to past limitations. If you truly want to excel in the world of commerce, you’ve got to reshape your perspective. Embrace money not as an enemy, but as a tool to forge opportunities. And conveying value is the purpose of marketing. Instead of dismissing marketing as an annoyance, treat it as a masterclass waiting to be unraveled. Every promotional email, every ad campaign you come across is a lesson. Dive deep into it, dissect its mechanics, and understand its essence. Remember, to sell value, you must first comprehend it. Only by changing your viewpoint can you truly capitalize on the vast potentials of money and marketing.
It dawned on me, maybe too late, that this whole original business was built on sinking sand. The idea rooted in those “old money” ideals where I had to hustle non-stop, just for a slight glimmer of a payday at the end. You’ve probably heard that age-old spiel: “Just graft, grind, and with a bit of elbow grease you’ll be rolling in billions.”
I was providing a “service,” rather than selling a product—which is cool, I guess, but it’s not going to make the type of money I wanted. Why? Scalability. How in the hell was I supposed to scale this operation? Hiring more hands meant shelling out more cash—a lot more. Also, this hustle was leaning heavy on other folks doing their thing, on bits I couldn’t even steer. I straight-up thought if someone said they were game for college, they were all in. Guess what? I was way off.
What I needed was a game plan that amplified my revenue while cutting back the costs. A tangible product seemed the answer. So, I dabbled in drop shipping, getting stuff straight from China.
Dropshipping is this slick e-commerce model where you don’t bother with maintaining stock. You sell an item at wholesale, then buy it from another source who ships it straight to your buyer. So, you’re never touching the merch or fussing with inventory. It’s cool because you can showcase a ton of gear without stashing it all. But heads up, you’re rolling with some wild cards, like hoping your third-party peeps got their act together and ain’t lagging on shipping.
In my case, it wasn’t half bad. Set up a handful of sites selling interesting stuff, most did well, others not so much. Had enough cash to get myself a swanky ride, a couple of decent knock-off suits, a nice condo, and even wine and dine the ladies every now and then.
But, like all things too good to be true, it went pear-shaped. Started getting dodgy goods. Legal threats left and right. Customers would get stuff that seemed like it had been through a war zone, zero quality checks from the merchants. The more I spread out, the messier it got.
Ended up selling all those sites on Flippa—this website that lets you sell your online businesses—and netted a cool couple mil. I could’ve coasted on that, maybe even hung up my boots and turned to some zen-like existence.
But let’s cut the shit—I was hooked to the flash, the thrill, the women. No two ways about it, money’s the puppeteer in this grand show. To dodge it, I’d have to vanish into the wilderness, but that meant no women, no ass—and that was a big fat ‘not gonna happen’.
Then, one day out of the blue, HE showed. The Revelator. Benedict Lockwood.
I swear he phased right through my wall, all nonchalant in streetwear but spewing philosophical talk about “seasons changing” and whatnot. Kept quizzing if I could “see,” and I’m there thinking, “Bro, you’re right in front of me, hard to miss.”
Weird dude, but oddly likable.
And in that signature poised tone of his, The Revelator said to me, “Money is but concretized energy. And energy, like all entities within this vast universe, gravitates towards equilibrium. It inherently seeks balance, my friend.”
His words, always layered with that touch of class, made me rethink the entire game.
Business Pro-Tip: Think of money as concretized energy. Every dollar you earn or spend represents the time, effort, and resources you or someone else invested. Recognizing this can shift your perspective on spending and saving. Instead of just seeing currency, you’ll see the hours worked, the skills honed, and the sacrifices made. With this mindset, you become more intentional about where you allocate your funds. Use this knowledge to make more informed decisions in your business and personal finances, ensuring that your ‘energy’ is being directed to avenues that align with your goals and values. When you respect money as a reflection of your energy, you’ll handle it with more care and purpose.
He hands me this slick-looking device, calling it “Quintessence.” Yeah, fancy shit, right? It’s loaded up with these mind-bending audio tracks. He tells me, “Plug in and listen to ‘Nouveau R.I.C.H’.” And me, being curious, did just that.
The rush that came over me? It’s like every secret about money and how it works on every level, physical and spiritual, every game—dirty or fair—played in back alleys and top-floor boardrooms, all of it was suddenly beaming straight into my brain. I’m talking a data dump at the speed of freaking light.
It felt like suddenly I’d been given this decoder ring to money’s biggest secrets, especially about how I felt about it and how I was going to master the damn thing. Ain’t easy to put into words. You’ve got to feel it to know it. But if you want an analogy? Imagine being handed a treasure map where the X marks the whole damn world. Things were about to change, big time.
So I made the jump, headed straight to the U.S., figured I’d soak up the vibe in the big cities. Learn a thing or two. But here’s where the plot thickens: wealth? It’s got its gatekeepers, man. As I tried to get meetings, pitch ideas, I kept finding more and more doors being slammed in my face. I couldn’t understand why. I had money, I had drive—everything the American dream supposedly demands.
And that’s when I began to hear about the “power behind the power.” Old money. Those draped in legacy and dripping in a confidence that borderlines insanity. They rolled deep, kept their circles tighter than a miser’s fist, doors bolted shut to the likes of me. But I needed their help to get true access.
This is what I call the “Velvet Veil.” It’s like this sneaky, plush barrier, a kind of invisible wall that’s thick as hell, standing tall between folks like you and me and those on the high side of town. You might not see it right off, but trust me, it’s there, keeping us from mingling too close with their kind. It’s all smooth and hush-hush, but if you’ve been around the block, you feel its weight, always keeping us in check.
Sure, we spot these billionaires on our screens, flouncing about in their tailored suits. But what’s hidden is just how out of our league they truly are. The mistake we make? Thinking they’re just us, but with deeper pockets.
Listen, they’re playing a different game entirely. Picture living a life where, no matter how bonkers you went, you’d never see the bottom of your bank account. Hell, just having their last name stamped on your ID is like a golden ticket that never runs out.
Now, you might sit there, thinking you’ve got the gist of it. But I call bullshit. You can’t wrap your head around that. To them, my couple of millions? Pocket change. Like trying to get VIP access to an exclusive club with a coupon. It’s laughable. When you’ve got folks who’d casually blow more on a wedding than you’ll ever earn in a lifetime? That, my friend, is a different dimension of living.
The Revelator had given me a heads up about these “manifestations”, but nothing prepares you for the real deal, right? Picture it: there I was, making my way down the boulevard, fresh off another metaphorical slap from one of those fancy high-rises, when out of nowhere, there he was—Jacob Lockwood. Strutting with that entourage of his, a parade of old money peacocks. Destination? Some lavish stadium.
Keep in mind, he didn’t know me yet, but I had heard all about him. All those doors that were slammed in my face, he was behind them calling the shots.
My curiosity got the better of me and I followed him in. I mean, come on, this was the first time I caught these elusive elites in the wild. What were they up to? Horse racing, that’s what. Now, there was this pretty lil’ Latina, firecracker of a woman, manning the front desk. Can’t lie, I flirted her up a bit, took her out to some nice dinners and developed she had a bit of a soft spot for me. One whispered conversation led to another, and soon enough, I was drowning in the kind of inside scoop money can’t buy.
According to her, these guys were dropping millions—training horses, trading them, placing ludicrous bets. Boggled my mind. I mean, who takes something as simple as horse racing and turns it into this high-stakes ballet? But that’s the “old money” world for you. Doesn’t make sense.
I’d catch glimpses of the jockeys, too—loaded, every last one of them. No rubbing shoulders with us commoners. But, outside this charmed circle, who else attended these things?
Sad group, mostly. Older men, vodka on their breath with dreams of making it big, always a dollar short, always a day late, and always betting on the losing horse.
BOOM. The eureka moment.
There’s a lot of money being thrown around in this industry—from rich and poor. I could flip the script, help the perpetual losers take the cake for once. Thanks to the insights from Nouveau RICH, I started to develop a very decent understanding on the horse racing and betting game and how I could potentially upset it all.
See, the upper crust, the “old money” elites are masters of the smoke and mirrors, making you think they’ve got this magic touch. Truth is, they’re no wizards. You may think they have some kind of ability to just perform miracles, but the truth of the matter is… they’re just more informed than you are. In other words, they have more data.
They’re knee-deep in the stats on these stallions, plotting their bets like chess masters. Meanwhile, the average dude? Just taking wild shots, hoping for some luck each time. But what if I could level the playing field with AI? Develop a model, feed it enough data on these horses—past results, training regiments—and voila! Predictive insights on which horse would be most likely to win.
Business Pro-Tip: Data plays a pivotal role in successful business operations. By consistently collecting and analyzing relevant data, businesses can gain valuable insights into their performance and customer preferences. This empirical approach allows for more informed decision-making, steering away from guesswork and towards evidence-based strategies. For any business aiming to optimize its operations and make informed choices, leveraging data analysis is crucial.
Now, the bougie “old money” way would be to keep this to myself and use it to place large bets or maybe cash in with some ritzy subscription deal. But that ain’t how I roll. I went all in on the wild side.
Picture this: A betting platform, but with a slick spin. Wanna throw down some bets? Gotta use my crypto coin. And with the U.S. playing all wishy-washy about crypto as “real money,” legally, it’s not “betting” – it’s just folks having a blast, all in the name of fun. And I knew people would jump in on the promise that perhaps one day, they could cash out and sell that coin.
First thing I realized when cooking up an idea?
Be picky about who you let in your ear. Your crew and family might not always have the right mindset, especially if they ain’t even the people you’re trying to vibe with and sell to. Loads of them dubbed my brainchild “too out there.” But to me? It was all about elevation.
Got me thinking — if they were so loaded with game-changing moves, why weren’t they making ’em? Instead, I rolled with my gut. That inner voice? Told me to craft a platform that’s straight fire, packed with swagger, and one that’d hype folks about the chance to stack paper.
Business Pro-Tip: When building a brand or product, target your research towards the right avatar or ideal customer. Dive deep into understanding their preferences, needs, and habits. This ensures your efforts and resources are streamlined for maximum impact. While it might seem exclusionary to focus on a specific group, remember, efficiency in business often means catering to those who genuinely resonate with your offering. By honing in on the audience that’s truly interested, you’ll optimize engagement and conversion rates, rather than casting too wide a net and diluting your impact. Always prioritize quality interactions over quantity.
So, I spent a large part of my little fortune recruiting the right people who believed in the vision and understood what I was trying to do, and we built our tech.
Man, did it blow the FUCK up.
It wasn’t just some flash in the pan; it became the buzz on the streets. We went all rogue, bending and smashing rules, doing whatever to catch eyes. People love being part of something new. So, we decided to give them just that. Amazing experiences that felt like real value. And as the coin started gaining value, the platform itself growing more popular, people and businesses from all across the country wanted in on it.
We started rolling out all sorts of wild games, ones that the old-timers would’ve called “madness.” Like, get this: I set up this wild game where customers had to bet on the horse most likely to finish dead last. And if they nailed it? They got to pick a new name for the poor beast.
You can imagine, they weren’t picking names like “Golden Sunshine” or “Majestic Stallion.” Nah, they went all in on some names that’d make your grandma blush.
This whole fiasco, as expected, got under the skin of the old money horse owner. Imagine this rich old dude watching his prize steed, a symbol of his family’s prestige, galloping around with a name that would be beeped out on TV. Hilarious.
But, seeing an opportunity to twist the knife, when he came storming to me, face redder than a beet, I played the game. Sure, I could help him “rebrand” the horse, fix the so-called “damage” done to his rep. But it’d cost him. And by the time I was done, his deep pockets felt a little lighter. Oh, the price of pride in the world of old money.
Business Pro-Tip: When diving into a market that’s been traditionally restricted or closed-off, it’s crucial to adopt a fresh viewpoint. Recognize that there’s a vast pool of untapped customers out there, previously ignored or excluded. Don’t just study the existing competition; understand the barriers and pain points that kept these potential customers at bay. The trick lies in positioning your product or service as not just an alternative, but as a solution that speaks directly to this new audience. Capitalize on methods that can foster inclusivity and accessibility. In such markets, innovation isn’t just about introducing a new product—it’s about opening doors, shattering glass ceilings, and welcoming in a wave of new customers hungry for change. Seize that chance and make your mark.
So there I was, in the thick of it all, breathing in the electrifying aroma of rivalry. And damn, it was intoxicating. I began to give free press to horses owned by Lockwood’s biggest competitors, and every time his own pride and joy—that thoroughbred of his—stumbled or lost, I reveled in it. Why? I hadn’t actually met him yet, and he hadn’t done anything to me personally.
Being the entrepreneur I am, I spied an opportunity. I dangled an offer before him: for a VERY hefty sum, I’d start promoting his horse over the competition. Turn the tides in his favor.
And you know what? He bit the bait, hook, line, and sinker. But here’s the twist: he wanted to seal the deal in person, at his bank. And let me tell you, this wasn’t some regular neighborhood bank. This place had no signage, no flashy ads—it was discreet and elite.
Stepping inside was like entering another realm; the air thick with “old-world charm”, like you could smell the centuries of wealth passed down through generations. For a fleeting moment, I basked in the thrill, proud to witness a world few ever got to see.
But pride has a funny way of messing with you.
I should’ve known better than to expect a standing ovation for my tactical maneuver. As Lockwood and I locked eyes, beneath his feigned respect, that all-too-familiar sneer was evident. It was as if he wanted to shout, “You’re out of your league, kid.”
And as if to add insult to injury, he leaned in, his voice dripping with disdain: “Here’s your money, you nouveau rich bitch.” That sting? Yeah, felt that one deep.
He thought he had me all figured out, that smug son of a gun. Each time Lockwood handed over a crisp note, that self-satisfied sneer never left his face.
I’ll admit, I was a bit frustrated. Why had The Revelator given Nouveau R.I.C.H in the first place? Why screw over his own brother? What was his endgame?
In this twisted game, the stakes were more than just cash—it was about being recognized, about being seen. But by whom? The shadows? Those untouchable elites who controlled everything from behind thick velvet curtains? It dawned on me that their world operated on a completely different frequency—a silent code, unspoken rules, all governed by a logic the rest of us could never fully grasp.
There I was, having built a little tech empire currently worth half a billion, a feat I once only dreamed of. And yet, here I was, still craving that nod of approval, that acceptance from a world I was never born into. Old money. Old ties. Old loyalties. An exclusive club I was never invited, and never will be invited to join.
So why the hell was I chasing this? Seeking validation from them? Screw that! I wasn’t about to let their perception shape my reality any longer. Money, after all, was just concretized energy—waiting, begging to be redirected. Balance.
So, I took his money and left the bank, deep in thought about my next move. And I was preparing a gambit so audacious it’d either catapult me to the heavens or send me crashing down.
Unburdened from chasing their validation, my sights were set higher. Back to those early dreams—the raw ambition of a kid who wanted to change the world. The glaring distinction between “old money” and “new money” couldn’t be clearer.
Old money? They’re vultures—capitalizing on systems, extracting every drop of worth. New money, though? It’s all about pushing the envelope, toppling the status quo, and here’s the kicker: uplifting lives in ways that ain’t just about dollar signs.
So, back to where we were at the beginning of my tale, moving forward to that pivotal moment with Jacob Lockwood at his bar. A whopping $315 mil on the table, and as I moved to walked away, a lightning bolt of realization struck.
THIS—was why The Revelator had singled me out.
Swinging back around, I locked eyes with Lockwood. “Having second thoughts?” he drawled, that damn smirk plastered on his face. He thought he had me, but he couldn’t be more wrong.
“Not quite,” I shot back. “You’re just itching to yank this platform away from the people, reestablish your control. But here’s a counter: $600 million. Half for the site, the other half? To LICENSE the AI and crypto tech to you. And with that coin, I’ll revolutionize the game—an AI powered system that connects young, gifted souls to scholarships and unique opportunities worldwide. Imagine a platform where some scrappy, talented kid from the Bronx or the Bayou can access opportunities they never even knew existed. Hell, high-rollers from horse betting site can chip in, lifting up the next generation.”
Lockwood chuckled. “You think you can pull off something of this magnitude? I’m already prepared to make moves with the SEC to get you shut down unless you sell anyway. How will you even make money?
And that’s where he made his mistake. Assuming I lived just as he did—only for money.
With that cheeky smirk, I shot back, “Ain’t always about the money. It’s about sparking a wave, rallying people for a cause. Truth is, you need our energy way more than we need that paper from you, because it’s worthless without us. And straight up, I’m done with you playing me, handing me back my own grind as some folded bill. So, I will level the field in my own little way, man. Even out that energy flow.”
And then I rolled out, head held high.
Damn, if that wasn’t a defining moment. Left him standing there, no response, just the echo of my conviction filling the void. If the site tanked? So be it. When you’ve danced with money, learned its rhythm, you can always get more of it. All it takes is relentless hustle and raw nerve. So, let him call his regulators in Washington. I don’t care.
Given enough time, the odds always tilt in favor of the persistent. Falling flat is part of the process, but damn it, you can’t stay down forever.
As I strode away, my mind started retracing steps, looping back to the choices, the hustle, the grind. Somehow, in this twisted journey, I’d discovered the magic combo: making bank while making a difference.
Value, man. It’s all about value.
Business Pro-Tip: “Value” isn’t just about price tags or grand gestures. It’s the subtle art of understanding your customer’s unspoken needs and desires, and delivering solutions that resonate. Think of it like music; a song might cost the same as any other on a platform, but the tracks that become anthems? They’re the ones that strike a chord within, that echo sentiments listeners didn’t even realize they felt. In business, providing value means crafting services or products that become the soundtrack to your customer’s journey. It’s about tapping into their aspirations, their challenges, and their stories, then offering them something that not only meets a need but enriches their narrative. Aim to be their anthem, not just another tune they skip past.
I was almost home, still high off my victory when a familiar voice sliced through my thoughts: “Nuevo?”
I hesitated, recognition sparking. Bathed in the dim glow of the streetlights, there he stood—a ghost from my street days, from the times when every day was a scrappy fight.
“Diego?” I blinked, piecing together the timeworn face with the memories. Damn, the years hadn’t been too kind.
But that trademark smirk crept on Diego’s face, eyes gleaming, though a touch faded. “Figured you’d have forgotten us ants while you’re flying with the eagles.”
I grinned, “Might be soaring, but never forget where I took off from. What’s got you here?”
Diego shrugged, mischief dancing in his eyes, “Thought I’d see if the legend lives up to the hype.”
Then, he shoved an envelope, creased and worn, into my grip. It had that unmistakable heft of cold cash. “That’s what I owed you from back then,” Diego mumbled, avoiding my gaze. “Took a damn eternity, but hey, a debt’s a debt, right?”
The envelope’s corners bit into my hand, a tangible echo of the past when every buck was a lifeline, every dream almost touchable.
“You didn’t have to, Diego,” I whispered, lost momentarily in a tidal wave of yesterdays. The city’s chaos faded into oblivion as a rush of memories drenched me. Sometimes, it’s the unexpected moments, the ghostly reminders, that jolt you back to your roots, back to the battles fought and bridges you forged.
Then, something crazy happened.
As days rolled on, blurring into a parade of faces—old allies and adversaries alike, each bearing their own mark of success contacted me. Some approached with guilt-ridden eyes, extending their own envelopes of redemption. Others, heads held high but souls bared, sought a touchstone, a shared memory. It was like the cosmos itself was poking me, steering me back to the course I had once blazed.
Every conversation, every interaction, was a fragment of my past tapestry, and slowly, an epiphany was taking shape. Lockwood and his ilk? Just noise in the background. My real brawl? It was against a rigged system that consistently pushed down the hungry, the dreamers, the damn daredevils.
That AI tech I’d sweat blood and tears over? It had untapped depths, waiting to be harnessed. And so, fire reignited, I channeled its might into something monumental, Lockwood’s cash be damned. A venture to hand the underdogs a legit shot at the title. A portal where these kids could glimpse a better future, foresee challenges, and choose paths with the wind at their backs, propelling them to greatness.
Business Pro-Tip: Boldness isn’t just a personality trait; it’s a strategic move. When you’re audacious and disruptive, you’re not just making a statement – you’re sounding a battle cry that echoes through the industry. This noise, this raw energy, is a magnet for investors and visionaries seeking the next big thing. Sure, regulations might loom like shadows, casting doubts and fears. But remember, every great change was once deemed “impossible” or “forbidden.” Instead of retreating, inch forward with purpose, gather a tribe that shares your fire, and together, transform that audacious spark into a roaring movement. In a world of whispers, be the roar that shakes the ground.
Standing atop my penthouse, with the city unfurling beneath like a tapestry of dreams and desires, a realization washed over me. Power wasn’t just about subverting the old or creating the new. True power lay in melding the two, in forging connections where none existed before.
But as I climbed higher, catching that golden rush, there was this itch, right? This pestering thought skulking in the dark: While I’m busy molding this kickass new era, would I forget those rough streets that forged my hunger? Would the heady drug of power blur what made me… well, me?
One day, outta nowhere, my phone buzzes. I pick up, and I hear just four crisp words before the line goes dead. “I’ll take your deal.”
Of course you would. Ain’t no getting off this train we’re on.
Fast forward, and I’m about to grace Time Magazine’s cover. I’m the hot ticket speaker for graduation ceremonies, universities are fighting over me. Hell, even Harvard’s knocking, wanting me to run a business masterclass.
But here’s the kicker:
Cash’s flowing smooth now, almost too smooth. Gotta watch my step, or I might just morph into the very monster I squared up against. But amidst the city’s shimmering allure, it struck me: Real power ain’t just about shattering the mold; it’s about connecting dots. The old guard and the disruptors can jam together, but we’ll need folks with vision to light the path.
It ain’t just about shaking things up or being the next big thing. It’s about looking in the mirror and getting real with that reflection. What’s your mindset on with wealth? Why’s that hunger burning so damn bright? You gotta rip apart those dusty old beliefs, stitch up some fresh ones, and let life throw its curveballs—’cause that’s where the golden inspiration comes from.
We’re talkin’ full-blown metamorphosis here. Rising from the ashes, reinventing, taking charge. It’s about that raw power you got, ready to mold, amplify, and hustle your way to unparalleled stacks.
That’s where you and I come in. We are the Nouveau Rich. We make the old into the new.
So, how does this end? Ain’t nobody got a roadmap for that, but here’s a guarantee: I’m the one crafting my own epic.
I am Nuevo Fuckin’ Vesper, and I danced toe-to-toe with the old money titans. What will you do tomorrow? And that’s how the story begins.
Do you see?
I do.