I Inherited Trillions, Now What?

The dealership hushed as Alexander Blackwell strode in, his two guards flanking him with the last scanning the premises. Conversations faltered, staff paused mid-task, and a quiet reverence filled the air. Alexander's tailored black suit moved fluidly as he walked, exuding the effortless authority of a man who always got what he wanted.

His dark eyes roved over the cars arranged like pieces of art in a gallery. Bugatti's iconic designs were illuminated by carefully placed spotlights, each vehicle gleaming with precision engineering and unparalleled craftsmanship.

A hostess approached him tentatively as he was guided toward a private lounge. She carried a silver tray bearing a single glass of wine. "Sir, a glass of Leroy Corton-Charlemagne Grand Cru, Côte de Beaune. Would you care for it?"

Victor, one of Alexander's guards, responded curtly before his employer could speak. "Mr. Blackwell doesn't drink. Thank you."

The hostess gave a polite nod, but Alexander's smooth voice interjected. "I'll take water."

She hesitated only for a moment before vanishing to fulfill the request.

Paul and Brian, the dealership's senior managers, entered moments later, their expressions a mix of eagerness and unease. "Apologies for the wait, Mr. Blackwell," Paul began, his tone respectful.

Alexander set the glass of water on the table after a measured sip. "No problem. I'm here to take a look."

"This way, sir," Brian said, gesturing toward the showroom.

The expansive space was a shrine to Bugatti's legacy, with each car meticulously displayed. As they walked past the first, Brian stopped to introduce it.

"Here we have the Bugatti Chiron Super Sport," he began. "This model features a quad-turbocharged 8.0L W16 engine, delivering 1,578 horsepower. It's designed for speed, with a top velocity of 273 miles per hour. Only the best for performance enthusiasts."

Alexander glanced at the car, its gleaming orange finish immaculate under the lights, but moved on without a word.

Next, they approached a sleek black car with sharp, angular lines.

"This is the Bugatti Chiron Pur Sport," Paul explained. "An engineering marvel with enhanced aerodynamics, a lighter frame, and a focus on handling. It has 1,479 horsepower and a more aggressive transmission for high-speed cornering."

Alexander took a moment to inspect the vehicle but continued walking. Neither car had managed to truly captivate him.

They stopped in front of another model—a striking silver vehicle with an unmistakable silhouette.

"The Bugatti Bolide," Brian announced, his voice tinged with pride. "The ultimate track-focused hypercar. It's equipped with a W16 engine producing 1,824 horsepower and weighs just 1,240 kilograms. This car is a raw expression of speed and power."

Alexander's gaze lingered briefly before he shook his head. It wasn't what he was looking for.

Finally, at the center of the room, his stride slowed. There it was—a sleek, black convertible that seemed to radiate understated elegance.

"That one," he said, his voice cutting through the quiet air.

"An excellent choice, sir," Paul said with a smile. "The Bugatti W16 Mistral. This is the final roadster to feature Bugatti's legendary W16 engine. With 1,577 horsepower and a top speed of 261 miles per hour, it's a masterpiece of both engineering and design. Only 99 of these exist worldwide."

Alexander walked over, his hand tracing the car's smooth, polished surface. The interior was just as impressive: black hand-stitched leather accented with subtle gold detailing, a perfect blend of luxury and functionality.

"I like this one," he murmured, stepping back out.

As they moved on, another car caught his attention—a striking black-and-blue coupe.

"And this?" he asked.

Paul's smile widened. "The Bugatti Divo. A marvel of aerodynamics and agility. It's powered by a quad-turbocharged W16 engine with 1,479 horsepower. Only 40 units were ever made, making it one of the rarest Bugatti models."

Alexander inspected the car's aggressive lines and luxurious interior before nodding. "Impressive."

They continued until Alexander's eyes fell on a white car displayed near the edge of the room. Unlike the others, it seemed to have been given a place of honor.

"What about that one?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of intrigue.

"That, sir," Paul said reverently, "is the Bugatti Centodieci. A tribute to the iconic EB110, it has 1,600 horsepower and accelerates from 0 to 60 mph in just 2.4 seconds. Only ten of these exist worldwide, and this is the only one in the United States."

Alexander approached the car slowly, as though drawn to it by an invisible force. He opened the door and slid into the cockpit. The interior was a masterpiece: diamond-stitched leather seats, minimalist controls, and a sense of exclusivity that was palpable.

When he stepped out, his decision was already made. "I'll take them," he said.

Paul blinked. "Them?"

"Yes. The W16 Mistral, the Divo, and the Centodieci."

The managers exchanged stunned looks before springing into action.

Paul's grin widened with excitement, but before he could say anything, Brian interjected, "Sir, to qualify for purchasing the Divo, you would need to have owned a Chiron first."

Alexander turned his intense gaze on Brian, his expression unreadable. Paul, sensing the tension, quickly pinched Brian's side and stammered, "Apologies for that, sir. I'm sure we can sort everything out for you." He gave an awkward laugh, clearly nervous.

Back in the private office, the air was charged with anticipation. Paul and Brian stood near the desk, their faces taut with a mixture of excitement and nervous energy. Alexander Blackwell reclined in the sleek leather chair, his dark gaze fixed on the paperwork before him.

He scanned the documents carefully. Every detail of the purchase was laid out in black and white: three Bugatti masterpieces, each customized to his specifications. The W16 Mistral, the Divo, and the Centodieci would soon belong to him, transformed into unique reflections of his signature taste—black with a hint of red.

"Your specifications will take approximately one month to complete," Paul said, his voice steady but tinged with deference. "After that, we can deliver the cars directly to your preferred location."

Alexander leaned back, his fingers steepled. "I'll communicate the delivery address to you personally," he replied, his tone final.

"Of course, sir," Paul said, jotting a note in his ledger.

With everything in order, Alexander reached into the inner pocket of his tailored jacket and retrieved a sleek, custom black-and-red American Express Centurion card. It glinted under the office lighting as he handed it over without hesitation.

Paul handled the card like a sacred relic, swiping it through the terminal with utmost care. The transaction beeped its approval, and a receipt printed out—a testament to a $22.3 million deal.

Brian glanced at the numbers and couldn't suppress a low whistle. Paul shot him a sharp look, but Alexander seemed unfazed, his focus elsewhere.

"Would you like to take the cars for a spin once they're ready, Mr. Blackwell?" Paul asked, cautiously trying to extend the conversation.

Alexander shook his head. "No. When I want them, they'll come to me. Make sure I'm notified when the cars are ready."

"Yes, sir," Paul affirmed, bowing slightly.

Brian added, "Would you like us to keep you informed about any future exclusive models or limited editions?"

Alexander considered for a moment before giving a slight nod. "Yes. Use this number." He slid a sleek, engraved business card across the desk. It bore only his name and a direct contact line—no titles, no fluff, just pure authority.

The deal finalized, Alexander rose from the chair with the same deliberate grace he'd exhibited upon entering the dealership. Paul and Brian stood as well, instinctively stepping back to give him space.

"I expect everything to be flawless," Alexander said as he buttoned his jacket.

"It will be, sir," Paul assured him, his voice steady despite the weight of the moment.

With a final glance around the office, Alexander strode toward the exit, his guards falling into step behind him. The rest of the dealership staff, still lingering at a respectful distance, straightened as he passed. Whispers swirled through the air like an invisible current.

The massive glass doors of the dealership parted smoothly, revealing a waiting helicopter on the private helipad nearby. The sleek black chopper, emblazoned with subtle red accents, mirrored the aesthetic Alexander had chosen for his cars. Its rotors churned the air, kicking up a breeze that tousled the hair of onlookers.

As he approached, one of his guards opened the door for him. Alexander paused briefly, his eyes scanning the horizon as though calculating his next move. Then, without a word, he stepped into the cabin.

The guards followed, the door shut with a satisfying click, and the helicopter's engine roared to life. Within moments, it lifted off the ground, ascending smoothly into the sky.

On the ground, Brian let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. "I don't think I breathed the entire time he was here."

Paul chuckled nervously. "Neither did I. But this deal—this deal will be the highlight of the year."

Brian nodded, watching the chopper shrink into the distance. "Yeah. I just hope we never mess up a delivery. I wouldn't want to be the one explaining anything to him."

Paul shuddered at the thought. "Let's make sure we don't."

As the helicopter disappeared into the horizon, the two men turned back toward the dealership, knowing that they had just made history—and a very hefty commission.