Can you get off my wife?

Adam Smith, thirty-nine years old.

For the first thirty years of his life, he had been a successful example of a commoner's rise.

He had excelled in school as a child, and though his family wasn't wealthy, he still managed to get into a decent university in New York State through sheer talent.

It wasn't an Ivy League school, but it was good enough.

With the help of loans and occasional scholarships, Adam paid the expensive tuition, completed his studies, and successfully landed a job at a securities firm on Wall Street.

That was perhaps the second most glorious moment of his life; his parents invited neighbors from the entire community to a big banquet at a hotel.

It was a significant event for a commoner's community to produce an elite from Wall Street.

After entering the workforce, Adam Smith gradually realized that his intelligence and emotional quotient were not enough.

In college, he could still catch up to classmates with higher IQs through hard work, but once he entered Wall Street, this "elite concentration camp," he was surrounded by Ivy League graduates, all of whom were smooth operators.

His ordinary family background offered no help in this arena of fame and fortune. Even if he mobilized all his friends and relatives, the funds they could gather wouldn't even amount to a fraction of what his colleagues from wealthy families had.

Yet, Adam Smith, with sheer grit and incredible luck, earned his first pot of gold in his first year on the job. Using the funds pooled from friends and family, he dominated the market, multiplying his capital by over ten times as if divinely aided.

A no-name rookie plunged into the financial tide, not only without capsizing but also continuously reaping rewards through "newbie luck." In the following years, although he had occasional missteps, his performance and wealth continued to grow steadily.

If America is the world of capital, then Wall Street is its heart, where money is everything!

Brokers who can make money are the kings adored on this street; all you see are smiling faces and all you encounter is goodwill.

At the age of thirty, Adam Smith reached the pinnacle of his life.

Not only did he earn eighteen million dollars in just three minutes, creating a new wealth legend, but he also met the love of his life, a sexy and intelligent blonde woman.

Convinced she was his lifelong partner, Adam launched a fierce financial offensive on the blonde woman, and within a month, they walked down the aisle.

Married life was happy and sweet. Soon, he had a lovely daughter, and Adam Smith felt like the happiest man in the world.

Unfortunately, luck doesn't accompany people forever. While Adam was successful in his romantic life, his career faced a crisis.

After marriage, Adam's performance declined, and several failed investments tarnished his reputation as a "golden broker."

Although he managed to hold on for another two years with his savings, his luck grew worse and worse. Everything he bought lost money. Sometimes, when a sure thing was in sight, he would encounter a massive sell-off by major players, losing everything.

In the end, no one was willing to entrust Adam with their finances anymore. He could only wander the streets, tricking a few unfamiliar rookies to make a living.

With his income plummeting, his marriage became unhappy.

His fiery wife, whom he had won over with his wealth, couldn't stand the drastic change. She gave Adam the cold shoulder daily, and eventually, she openly cheated.

Today was another day with no success.

Adam Smith, who had been trying to sell stocks on the street all day, dragged his exhausted body back to his workstation. He didn't even have time to sit down and rest before his supervisor found him.

"Adam, you should know the rules. The company has limited space in the securities hall. Starting tomorrow, you will lose this workstation."

"But this workstation is what I earned with my performance back then!" Adam Smith roared. "This workstation belongs to me!"

"That was then. You've been at the bottom for three consecutive months. If it weren't for your past contributions, the company would have let you go last year."

The supervisor sneered, then turned and pointed to a small alley across the street outside the floor-to-ceiling glass window.

The alley was filled with many rookies without connections. They didn't have the qualifications to enter the trading hall and could only hawk stocks on the street. Even if they found clients, they had to ask the traders in the hall to complete the transactions.

Naturally, they had to pay a commission to the traders in the hall.

"Now you're just returning to where you belong. I'm sure you're already used to it."

After the taunt, he delivered the final ultimatum with a cold expression.

"After work, I don't want to see your things at this workstation."

When things are going well, there is goodwill everywhere. When life hits rock bottom, the people around you become ferocious and terrifying.

"Bastard!" Adam Smith slammed his fist on the workstation, burning with rage.

But in the end, it was just impotent fury.

Wall Street was cruel. The moment his performance declined and showed no signs of recovery, Adam had foreseen this outcome.

Tears were not believed here. Not even crocodiles would shed tears on this street, for there were no philanthropists here.

Carrying a large cardboard box and holding a briefcase, Adam Smith walked on the road home.

The sun was setting, painting the sky in dazzling colors.

Bending over, with his head down, Adam Smith had no time to appreciate the sunset. He walked home in silence.

This was a street-facing apartment building in Manhattan.

The apartment building was not tall, only three stories high, with a small yard. It was a house Adam Smith had bought when he was at the height of his glory.

As his life deteriorated, one of Adam's most fortunate decisions was buying this house outright.

Back then, when he was dominating the stock market, he wanted to invest every penny. It was his parents who constantly advised him to leave a place for himself and his wife to settle down. Coupled with being captivated by his beautiful wife at the time, thinking he should give her a wedding gift, he then withdrew funds from the stock market to buy the house outright.

Pushing the door open, the wooden ceiling creaked, as if bearing some force.

Adam Smith paused for a moment, placed the large cardboard box and briefcase on the table, picked up the baseball bat from the corner, and stepped onto the stairs.

The door to the second-floor bedroom was ajar, and from inside came heavy panting and the sound of a wooden bat hitting water.

Adam Smith pushed open the bedroom door, his hands gripping the baseball bat so tightly that his veins bulged.

"Can you get off my wife?"

A cold voice interrupted the sound of splashing.

The two people who were busy turned their heads to look.

"Hey, it's Adam!" the fat man said with an embarrassed, mocking smile. "Hold on a moment, Mrs. Smith is just too passionate!"

Mrs. Smith, pinned beneath him, glanced at her husband and sneered, "Since you're back, go to the kitchen and cook."

With that, she urged the fat man, "Don't mind him, let's continue."

Adam Smith tried to raise the baseball bat in his hands, but he eventually lowered it, turned, and left, closing the door behind him.

This was because the fat man was his boss.

If he lost his desk in the trading hall, Adam could still scrape by with "street hustling." If he swung that bat, he would lose his job entirely and face bankruptcy.

His wife would then have grounds for divorce, after which he would first lose half his assets, have to pay child support for a daughter who wasn't his, and be left with nothing.

The silent man walked down to the kitchen, gazing at the last vestiges of the sunset disappearing on the horizon, and welcomed the darkness.

The most desperate thing in the world is that the sun sets every day.

The darkness seemed endless.

Half an hour later, the fat man left, looking satisfied. Adam Smith, having finished his dinner early, came up to the study on the third floor with his briefcase.

He tossed the briefcase aside, and a roll of black videotape flew out.