Chapter 5. #3
He had two hundred billion dollars now in the bank.
He had to remind himself several times, "Billion's with a capital B.
" His companies would deposit hundreds of millions of dollars every month, a constant, unending flow of wealth.
It was unreal to him, a man who had once counted his money in tens and twenties, that one person could have so much.
He had more money than he could ever use, and he made more money every month than he could ever spend.
He pulled out his phone, a new, sleek device that was a world away from his old one. He had an idea, a thought that had been nagging at him since he had stepped into this new world. He looked up at Constance and Holly, their faces a picture of calm, professional readiness.
"Constance," he said, his voice a low, serious murmur. "There are approximately seventy-two thousand homeless people in LA."
She nodded, a serious expression on her face. She had read those numbers in the news, the cold, hard figures a stark reality in a city of glamour and excess.
"And there are over seven hundred thousand in the entire country," he added, his voice filled with a quiet, burning passion.
"Where are you going with this?" she asked, a gentle curiosity in her voice.
He looked up and smirked, a genuine, self-deprecating expression.
"I know poor. I was fucking poor. The fact that I had a roof over my head was a luxury I was blessed with.
" He had not forgotten where he came from, the cold, hard reality of living on the edge of society.
"We need to set up a fund for homeless shelters, maybe have housing built for a second-chance program. "
Constance's face softened, a genuine, beautiful smile spreading across her lips. "Ty had a similar idea, but he passed away before he got it started." She stood and went over to a shelf, her hand finding a file folder. She handed it to Brian, a sacred relic from the past.
He opened it, and his breath caught in his throat.
Inside were plans for apartment buildings, small mobile homes, and even shelters for the homeless to seek food and support.
The plans were meticulous, detailed, and filled with a quiet, powerful hope.
There was a financial report of the cost estimate: the apartments would cost around ten million if he built three fifty-unit complexes; the mobile homes around fifty thousand each; and the shelters three million to build and a million a year to run.
Brian smiled. This was not just a folder; it was a blueprint for a better world. The research was all there, and the plans were already in place. All he had to do was say the word.
He looked up, a new fire in his eyes, a burning passion for the world he was now in charge of.
"I want to build a community," he said, his voice low and firm.
"Six apartment buildings, each with fifty one-bedroom units.
These will be for single people, a safe place for them to get back on their feet.
I also want to build one hundred mobile homes, each with two bedrooms, in a small, self-contained community.
These will be for families, for single parents with children, a place where they can feel safe and secure.
And then, I want to build three shelters, one in each major area of the city.
These will provide not only a warm bed and hot meal, but also a place for people to get the support they need to rebuild their lives. "
Constance nodded, her eyes filled with a mixture of pride and admiration.
"Call Gloria," Brian said, his voice a low, firm command.
"Ask her that after it is built, they can provide security for the community there.
Make sure crime is kept at bay. The families and people are kept safe.
And make sure that it is a drug-free community.
The rules will be no drugs. This is free housing for them to get back on their feet.
Any drugs or crime will be met with eviction. "
Constance nodded, a silent, beautiful agreement.
She dialed the number for Gloria and walked away, her voice a low murmur as she explained the project.
Holly had the phone to her ear already and was calling the contractor they had planned on using for the build, her fingers flying across the screen of her tablet as she set up the appointments.
Brian leaned back, a deep, profound sense of contentment settling over him.
This would cost him thirty-four to thirty-five million dollars to build it all, and then there was the yearly maintenance and security.
It would run in the ten to twenty millions, but he wasn't worried.
He was making hundreds of millions every month.
This would set him aside from other billionaires.
He was doing something for the community, a small act of kindness in a world that was often cold and unforgiving.
He would do this in other cities too, but one at a time.
He was a new man, a new kind of billionaire, a king who was not just building an empire of money, but an empire of hope.