This work is a translation and reinterpretation of the novel America's Road to Wealth (美利坚财富之路), adapted into a more Western-oriented version. I do not own the rights to the original work. This adaptation is created by a reader and includes deliberate changes from the source material.
Many elements have been modified to better reflect Western life and sensibilities, including the removal of outdated or racially insensitive content, as well as the revision of cultural references to make them more accurate and contemporary. Additionally, excessive information dumps have been reduced to improve pacing and narrative flow.
The goal of this adaptation is to present a more coherent and engaging version of the story. If you enjoy it, please consider leaving a comment—your feedback is what motivates me to continue adapting this work.
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August 2002, Manhattan, New York
A light rain overnight had left the city damp and heavy.
It had been a little over three years since he woke up in that body. He never knew how it happened or why. He only knew that he had died… and that, somehow, he had opened his eyes again.
He was twenty years old and living in 1999.
He remembered the diagnosis with absolute clarity: the brain tumor, the silent certainty that there would be no way out. But not even in his wildest fantasies had he imagined that death would not be the end, but the beginning of another life.
There he was now, breathing air that did not belong to him, carrying a name and a future that were not originally his.
Now, after so much time, he was ready to return and face his life.
The day before, he had received a call from his father. It was a long conversation and, for the most part, irrelevant. His father suggested that he return to Texas if he had the time, his mother asked about him every day, and he asked him to come back, even if only for a few days.
After hanging up, Jack made a decision.
Almost three years had passed since he graduated from university and moved to New York against his family's wishes. Until then, his parents only asked whether he had enough money and reminded him that he could always come home if things didn't work out.
After all, the Carter family owned thousands of heads of cattle and vast stretches of farmland. If Jack returned, he could run his parents' ranch and live comfortably for the rest of his life.
But this was the first time his father had directly asked him to visit for a few days.
He packed light—two changes of clothes in a duffel bag—and was about to leave the bedroom when a hoarse but pleasant voice stopped him.
—Jack, honey… up this early? Where are you going?
Jack turned around. He saw a young woman with black hair peeking her head out from between the sheets, still caught between sleep and wakefulness.
—I told you last night, I'm going to see my parents for a couple of days. —he replied—
—To Texas?
—Yes.
She hesitated for a few seconds.
—Then… what about me?
Jack smiled, set the bag down on the floor, and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek.
—You can stay here. I gave you my credit card yesterday—you can go shopping and have fun with your friends. The driver and the butler will be at your disposal. —he said softly, touching her cheek.— I'll be back in a few days, a week at most.
Anne remembered the black Centurion card he had left on the table the night before… and the apartment she was waking up in now—too large, too quiet.
She was nineteen years old. In recent years, she had worked nonstop: first on the series Get Real, then in her first major film role as Mia Thermopolis in The Princess Diaries, which had turned her name into that of a young actress known across the United States. Unlike many of her friends, her career had already moved beyond small roles.
Anne met Jack at a charity gala her father had taken her to almost by insistence.
Jack had been charming from the very first moment. Tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp features and a calm presence, he had that unmistakable Southern U.S. appeal: a firm jaw, straight nose, clear eyes, and a captivating smile.
He spoke calmly, with a barely perceptible Texas accent—just enough to make him distinctive without sounding rustic.
They didn't talk much that night, just enough to leave a clear impression. When they said goodbye, Jack asked for nothing more than her number. She gave it to him without thinking twice.
Two days later, he called her.
Just a simple invitation to dinner. Before they realized it, they were already seeing each other.
—All right —she said softly.
Jack gave her one last kiss on the cheek and left.
Anne remained awake for a few moments after he was gone. Then she looked at the ornate crystal clock embedded in the wall.
10:00 a.m.
Finally, she got up.
Clothes were scattered across the carpet, and her body ached in a strangely pleasant way. She blushed and murmured, amused:
—Texas men…
She walked to the closet and chose a Chanel outfit Jack had bought for her two days earlier: top, pants, scarf, jacket, and sunglasses. He had spent more than forty thousand dollars on that single outfit. Her latest film had done surprisingly well at the box office, and she could be called a rising star, but she had only been paid four hundred thousand dollars. Much of that money had vanished quickly—her agent, her makeup artist, her publicist, and so on… and so on.
Her father, a lawyer in New Jersey, made less than that in three months. Even adding up the income of her entire family, they could not afford a single piece like that.
It was beautiful.
After getting dressed, freshening up, and applying light makeup, she left the bedroom.
The apartment was enormous—seven bedrooms, nine bathrooms, more than 7,500 square feet—located on the eighteenth floor of the Carnegie Hill Tower, on Fifth Avenue.
Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Beyond them, Central Park stretched out green and vibrant, the lake shimmering under the morning light.
Anne stopped short.
—God… it's beautiful.
She stepped into the dining room, a semicircular space surrounded by glass, with direct views of Central Park and Fifth Avenue.
Eating here every day, she thought, would make anything taste better.
While Anne ate breakfast, attended by two maids and a butler, she tried to hide her unease.
At the same time, Jack Carter was riding in the back of his Range Rover on the way to JFK Airport, watching the landscape of Queens slide past the window.
Three years had passed since he traveled back in time, transmigrating into a new body. When he woke up, he was no longer himself, but a newly graduated business school student from Rice University in Texas.
The memories of the original Jack Carter arrived shortly after—a well-off ranching family. A life destined for stability and comfort. If he had wanted, Jack could have returned to Texas, inherited the ranch, and lived an easy life.
But fate had given him something more.
A golden finger.
He could see the hidden information behind financial products. Trends. Outcomes. Risks. Everything laid bare before his eyes. A test with one thousand dollars in the Forex market turned into thirty thousand in a week. In that moment, he understood.
Wall Street would be his battlefield.
Ignoring his family's objections, he moved his capital to Manhattan.
The results were devastating.
Seventy thousand dollars became one million in a month. One million turned into ten million through metal futures by the end of his first year.
When he fully entered the U.S. stock market, his rise was already impossible to ignore. By February 2000, his net worth had surpassed three hundred million dollars.
Then he made a move that shook Wall Street.
Jack Carter began aggressively short-selling the most popular stocks in the tech market—Cisco, Microsoft, Dell, Yahoo.
At the height of the dot-com boom.
Wall Street laughed.
Even his competitors mocked the young cowboy from Texas.
On March 10, 2000, the NASDAQ reached its all-time high.
Jack was losing millions.
And then—
The market broke.
What they initially called a correction turned into panic. Selling triggered more selling. Confidence vanished. When Microsoft was declared a monopoly in early April, the collapse accelerated.
By May, the NASDAQ had lost nearly half its value.
And Jack Carter closed his positions.
From a total investment of 360 million dollars, amplified through extreme leverage, he made more than 1.2 billion in profit.
Overnight, his name exploded across Wall Street.
The Wall Street Journal called him "The Fierce Cowboy from Texas."
The New York Daily was even more direct: "The Wolf of Wall Street Has Arrived."
That same summer, Jack founded Carter Capital.
Three years later, Jack's firm controlled more than 1.5 billion dollars.
All of it—his own money.
And his personal life?
It was the indulgent, repetitive existence typical of the newly rich.
Anne Hathaway was just one chapter of that life.
And far from the only one.
—Boss, we've arrived at the airport.
The driver's low voice pulled Jack Carter back to reality. His thoughts were still drifting between Anne Hathaway and the other women who had passed fleetingly through his life over the past few months.
—All right —he replied—. Let's get out.
Jack nodded, and the engine of the SUV shut off smoothly.
At the same time, four large men stepped out of the black Cadillac that had followed them the entire way. Two African Americans, one white man, and one Asian; all easily over six foot three, dressed in impeccable black suits.
One of them stepped forward and opened the rear door.
Jack got out of the car with a travel bag slung over his shoulder.
—Andy, you can head back —he said to the driver—. While I'm gone, follow Miss Hathaway's instructions.
—Understood, Mr. Carter —Andy replied, bowing his head slightly.
Jack returned the gesture briefly, then looked at the four men.
—Let's go.
They moved through Terminal 1 of John F. Kennedy International Airport like a compact block. Jack, dressed in a simple casual T-shirt, stood out both for his height and for the contrast with the bodyguards flanking him. They did not go unnoticed.
A few meters away, a white man in a light-colored suit and gold-rimmed glasses recognized them immediately. He smiled with professional enthusiasm and approached at a brisk pace.
—Mr. Carter, it's a pleasure to see you again.
—Hello, good to see you, David. —Jack replied—
—This way, please. Your plane will be ready shortly; the pilot is conducting the final checks. —he said with a measured smile—
David Jones was deputy director of the Senior Client Services department at American Express, a division created after the launch of the Centurion Black card. His sole function was simple and ambiguous at the same time: to satisfy any need of the most exclusive clients.
Guided by David, they bypassed the common areas of the airport and headed straight to a spacious private area on the first floor: the Emirates Lounge.
The lounge offered absolute privacy, individual bathrooms, internet access, high-end cosmetics, and permanent catering service provided by top-tier chefs. A place designed for the wealthiest clients.
—Your plane will depart in thirty minutes —David informed him, bowing slightly—. Please, rest in the meantime.
Jack nodded. He had requested a private jet directly to Texas, a process that had already become routine for him. During his time in New York, David had always been the one coordinating everything for him.
Noticing that the executive did not leave, Jack spoke again.
—David, one more thing. Can American Express handle the purchase of an aircraft?
David's eyes gleamed for just an instant.
—Do you mean a direct acquisition?
—Yes. The private flight service is excellent, but I want to buy my own jet. I'd prefer to do it through you.
—Of course —he replied without hesitation—. American Express provides all the services our clients require. Absolutely all of them.
Jack smiled, satisfied.
—Then when I get back from Texas, I want to see options and numbers.
—There will be no problem.
Jack took the coffee one of his escorts handed him and let time pass. When he finished the cup, it was time to board.
David accompanied him to the aircraft's stairway.
The jet was a Gulfstream G400 operated by Delta Air Lines, one of the most refined versions of the successful Gulfstream IV. In the year 2000, it was one of the most advanced executive aircraft in the world: fast, quiet, and with more than enough range to effortlessly cover the distance between New York and Texas.
The crew also belonged to Delta. Since the mid-nineties, the airline had revamped its cabin service, betting on younger teams and more personalized attention. On private jets, that policy was even more evident.
Beauty, efficiency, and discretion.