A Wall Street Genius’s Final Investment Playbook

“If you’re not confident about passing the test, you should leave now.”

The Malaysian sovereign wealth fund scandal was a shocking affair.

It wasn’t just that a country’s prime minister was directly involved in the fraud—Wall Street’s investment giant, Goldman, had stepped in as an accomplice.

It was a modern-day heist, a collusion between corrupt power and greed-blinded financial capital.

However, my reason for diving into this case had nothing to do with noble ideals like “serving justice.”

“This is the perfect debut stage.”

This case was the ideal opportunity for the Delphi Policy Institute, which I had founded, to instantly establish itself on the global stage.

If I could play a key role here, I could elevate it from a fledgling think tank to a worldwide powerhouse.

But to achieve the results I wanted, I had to overcome two major hurdles.

“First, I need to amplify the stakes.” The first was attracting public attention.

In my past life, this case failed to cause a significant stir despite its gravity.

“Because it was handled too blandly.”

Every incident is, in the end, a “story.”

In other words, storytelling matters.

But in my past life, this scandal had been left in the hands of dry narrators like the Justice Department and financial regulators.

As a result, it was drowned in stiff terms like “sovereign wealth fund,” “money laundering,” and “bond trading,” too heavy and boring to capture the public’s interest.

Well, that problem was easy to fix.

“I just need to sprinkle in a bit of MSG.”

The truth was, the case was already overflowing with intrigue.

A prime minister orchestrating fraud, Wall Street playing along, extravagant parties, Hollywood, and secret accounts tangled together in one massive scandal.

I didn’t even need to exaggerate anything—just highlighting the existing elements properly would make it explosive.

So, my real focus had to be on the second challenge.

“Catching John Lau.”

In my past life, Lau vanished without a trace once the investigation closed in, and he was never caught—not even by the time I died.

And he was the only person who knew the full scope of the scam.

Authorities scrambled to piece together the clues he left behind to sketch out the case, but ultimately, they failed.

Because of that, the scam ended as an “unfinished story,” and like all incomplete tales, it faded into obscurity.

Therefore, if we failed to capture John Lau, this would end just like it did in my previous life—with nothing but fragmented pieces.

So Lau’s arrest wasn’t optional—it was essential.

But this too came with a massive obstacle.

“As of now, we don’t have enough evidence tying Lau to MDB. He doesn’t even hold an official title.”

That was what the FBI agent—who had relentlessly pursued me in my past life—said.

“To arrest him, we first have to clearly prove the connection.”

“Isn’t his presence here enough?” I asked, nodding toward the monitor.

We were in the FBI’s operations room.

On screen, cameras planted throughout Gonzalez’s office clearly showed Lau’s face.

“At this very moment, he’s representing MDB in investment negotiations.”

He personally attended a meeting arranged under the MDB name.

Wasn’t that enough to prove his involvement?

But the FBI agent responded firmly.

“He can just claim it was a one-off favor and that he had no decision-making power. We need ironclad evidence that leaves no room for excuses.”

So, not just circumstantial evidence—we needed undeniable proof.

I found myself frowning without realizing it.

“So in the end, everything hinges on Gonzalez’s performance...?”

That was definitely a cause for concern.

In my opinion, Gonzalez’s rogue act still had a long way to go.

“He’s got talent, but...”

The biggest flaw in Gonzalez’s performance was that he enjoyed spectating a little too much.

“He doesn’t want to be the lead—he wants to be the audience.”

A true rogue would see himself as the center of the world.

But Gonzalez, at his core, preferred the role of a “spectator enjoying the show.”

Could someone like that really deliver a convincing performance?

As I stared nervously at the monitor...

“You don’t hold an official title either. Just like my secretary.”

Surprisingly, Gonzalez’s performance exceeded expectations.

His arrogant attitude toward Lau, his belittling comparison to a lowly secretary, and the ease with which he delivered every line.

It was the perfect rogue act.

If there was one flaw...

“He’s enjoying this a bit too much.”

But that wasn’t a major problem.

After all, it’s natural for a rogue to feel pleasure in mocking others.

The only issue was that the target was John Lau.

In my past life, he had evaded international law enforcement across 12 countries and stayed off the grid for over five years.

When it came to crimes tied to him, he maintained an intense paranoia bordering on obsession.

Wouldn’t someone like Lau be able to detect even subtle flaws in Gonzalez’s performance?

A wave of anxiety swept over me...

Fortunately, things were still going smoothly.

Lau seemed genuinely provoked by Gonzalez’s “secretary” jab.

He appeared deeply offended at being labeled insignificant—his expression was visibly stiff.

That should be enough to keep him from suspecting this was a setup.

But then—

“Let’s decide after I test your influence.”

—Test?

At the word “test,” Lau’s expression changed instantly.

His eyes flashed with suspicion and wariness.

If his paranoia flared up and he stormed out right now and went into hiding, the operation would be a total failure.

“I can’t let that happen...”

But I couldn’t step in myself...

At this moment, I had no choice but to leave it to Gonzalez.

It was the exact moment I started to worry whether he could pull through this crisis.

“If you don’t like it, you’re free to leave. Of course, we’ll still cover your trouble for coming all this way.”

Gonzalez abruptly placed a bag full of cash on the table.

“One hundred thousand dollars. That should be enough for transportation, right?”

“If you’re not confident about the test, you might as well walk out now.”

“When did he even prepare that?”

That money bag wasn’t something I instructed—it was a prop Gonzalez had prepared on his own.

“Well then, what will you do? Will you take the test, or not?”

Gonzalez’s tone was perfectly calm.

An arrogant attitude, as if he didn’t care what the answer would be.

“He’s pushing all the right buttons.”

That line wasn’t in the script I gave him.

It was pure ad-lib.

The “button-pushing” I’d taught him on the side during training was paying off handsomely.

Seeing Lau’s twitching lips proved that it was working.

Now that Gonzalez had played this card, if Lau walked out, he’d be seen as someone who fled because he couldn’t pass the test.

And thanks to the earlier frame Gonzalez set—that Lau was just a secretary posing as a big shot—his credibility would take a further hit.

In the end, Lau had no choice but to compose himself and ask back, instead of storming out.

“What kind of test?”

“Nothing major. Just show us your private collection.”

Gonzalez stopped ad-libbing and returned to the script I had prepared.

The first “test” I had planned.

The unveiling of his art collection.

“Think of it as a form of identity verification. A collection says a lot about a person’s class.”

Art isn’t just a sign of wealth—it’s a symbol of social standing and connections.

Top-tier art dealers don’t sell pieces to just anyone with money.

To become a client, one must pass recommendations and internal screening from existing clients.

So owning a high-level collection was proof that someone had already been accepted by the upper class—and further, that they were connected to elite networks.

That’s the official reason Gonzalez gave for requesting the collection.

But the real reason was something else.

“We need to trace his assets.”

The only reason John Lau had been able to stay on the run for so long was his massive funds.

But where did he hide all that money?

Shell companies, art, and jewelry.

In particular, Lau was known to have used art and jewels aggressively.

They’re assets that are easy to store and move, while still guaranteeing anonymity.

In essence, we were asking him to pull out his hidden assets right in front of us.

If he showed Gonzalez his collection?

The FBI could later interrogate him about how he paid for the pieces.

And by following the flow of that money, we could uncover the true extent of his hidden wealth.

But...

“Will he take the bait?”

There was no guarantee.

John Lau was a contradictory man.

On one hand, he flaunted his wealth with excessive extravagance, never hiding his vanity.

On the other hand, he was meticulous, leaving no trace that could incriminate him.

So in this moment—what would he choose?

“A collection, huh... that’s an unusual request.”

Lau’s tone was cautious.

He had chosen calculation over vanity.

“Well, makes sense.”

If he were stupid enough to fall into a trap just from a bit of provocation, he would’ve been caught in my past life already.

No matter.

This was just a probing move, anyway.

If he refused, we’d simply move on to the next step.

But Gonzalez, unexpectedly, pushed one more time.

“What, don’t tell me you don’t have anything worth showing?”

A sharp jab, tinged with contempt, thrown at Lau.

Gonzalez’s gaze was cutting.

As if someone without a personal collection didn’t even deserve to breathe in front of him.

He was clearly trying to provoke Lau into taking the first test.

Would it work?

As I watched, still unsure, John Lau responded, almost defensively.

“Of course, I do have a collection. But it’s difficult to show it to others... it’s ‘in transit.’ I trust that, as a fellow collector, you understand.”

“In transit.”

That meant his collection was in a freeport.

Because importing art incurs massive customs duties and taxes, wealthy individuals often store them in tax-free warehouses—freeports.

That was what Lau meant.

But upon hearing this, Gonzalez immediately frowned and asked,

“A freeport? Because of taxes?”

Too blatant.

Maybe Gonzalez was hoping Lau would flat-out admit, “Yes, I’m avoiding taxes by storing them permanently in a freeport.”

A statement like that could later become legal leverage.

Still...

“If you push that hard, all you’ll do is raise his guard.”

Sure enough, Lau fired back with suspicion gleaming in his eyes.

“Well then, can you show us your collection right now?”

“Of course. It’s displayed at my home.”

“Displayed? You mean the real pieces?”

“Obviously. I bought them to enjoy, didn’t I?”

But faced with Gonzalez’s attitude—“isn’t that just common sense?”—Lau seemed briefly lost for words.

His face soon turned slightly red.

The truth was, storing art in a freeport wasn’t the way of genuine art lovers—it was the method of those aiming for “investment” and “asset concealment.”

Real rich people like Gonzalez proudly paid taxes and displayed their art in their homes.

In short, this wasn’t just a verbal clash—it was a conversation that highlighted the gap between a real wealthy elite and a pretender.

“He’s got real talent.”

Back in the rogue training session, I’d told Gonzalez, “Lau’s complex comes from never becoming a real tycoon. Emphasize that difference, and you’ll get under his skin.”

But I never imagined he’d use it like this, right now.

It was masterful improvisation.

“I just don’t get it. If you can’t pay the taxes, you shouldn’t buy the piece in the first place. What’s the point of storing something you’ll never even lay eyes on?”

Gonzalez spoke as if he had encountered the strangest kind of person.

His tone carried the implication that he doubted whether Lau even had the qualifications to sit in front of him as a member of high society.

“Well, I suppose people have different tastes. Fine. Then would you mind if I called the auction house to confirm you’re the purchaser?”

“What?”

“As I said, this is just a routine identity verification.”

Once again, Lau hesitated before finally replying, strained.

“That would be difficult.”

“Why? I get it if we can’t see the collection itself, but we could just check the purchase records, no?”

“The thing is... the actual buyer... was under a different name.”

“You’re saying even the name on the paperwork isn’t yours? Why on earth not?”

Lau couldn’t give a clear answer.

Obviously, it was because he had made the purchases under the name of a shell company.

Gonzalez laughed, almost in disbelief.

“There may be all kinds of tastes in the world, but keeping artwork bought under someone else’s name? I just can’t wrap my head around that. It really undermines your credibility.”

“......”

“Are you really here representing MDB? I agreed to this meeting only because it involved a sovereign fund, but based on this conversation, you’re no different than the secretary I fired.”

“He’s really pushing the right buttons.”

It wasn’t just his words.

Every expression Gonzalez made hit Lau’s nerves with surgical precision.

Watching it unfold on the monitor, I felt a strange sense of satisfaction and pride.

Maybe this is what it feels like to be a teacher.

But this wasn’t the time for sentimentality.

“The first test is a bust.”

Given how far the conversation had gone, it was now impossible to force the “collection reveal” I’d originally planned.

But that was fine.

“That was just a probing bait, anyway.”

The kind of bait a fisherman uses to gauge the waters.

Its main purpose was to observe the target’s reactions and adapt to the environment.

And now?

I had a clear read on Lau’s behavior.

We’d successfully provoked his emotions.

And Gonzalez, the fisherman, was fully in control of the flow.

From that standpoint, the probing bait had served its purpose perfectly.

Now it was time to move on to the next step.

Time to cast the real bait.