I Inherited Trillions, Now What?-Chapter 88: Cars II

Inside a sealed compartment, five people stood before a massive metal door. They were an unlikely group—three men and two women, each distinct in stature and demeanor. One of the men, a lanky figure with sharp, calculated movements, stepped forward. Without hesitation, he pressed his hands against a biometric scanner embedded in the wall. All five of his fingers splayed across the glowing red surface. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a soft beep echoed in the confined space, and the scanner’s glow shifted to green. With a low mechanical hiss, the heavy door slid open.

Bill couldn’t help but smile as the entrance to the VVIP section of his garage revealed itself. He had come a long way. When he first started this business, people had called him foolish. The idea of leasing out garage spaces to the ultra-wealthy had seemed absurd to them. "They’re rich," skeptics had scoffed. "Why wouldn’t they just build their own garages near their homes?"

But Bill had understood something others didn’t. He knew that for many of the affluent, convenience was everything. It wasn’t just about having a place to store their luxury cars—it was about having someone who would maintain them, protect them, and deliver them at a moment’s notice. Some of his clients had estates too vast for a garage near their main residence, while others owned so many cars that keeping them all in one place was impractical. And then there were those who simply didn’t want the hassle of upkeep. They wanted to enjoy their exotic machines without worrying about routine maintenance, security, or logistics.

At first, the business had been slow, far from the lucrative venture he had envisioned. He had a handful of clients, but not enough to justify the long hours. With no employees to rely on, he had done everything himself—washing, servicing, and even personally delivering vehicles across the state. It was backbreaking work, but he wasn’t alone. His brother and best friend, the only two who had believed in his vision, had stood by him, helping whenever they could.

But Bill had something more than just a business plan. He had passion. While others dreamed of owning exotic cars, he dreamed of protecting them. He imagined a world where rare and priceless automobiles were not just stored but meticulously cared for, safeguarded like the works of art they were. He saw beyond the steel and rubber—he saw legacies, engineering marvels, history on four wheels. To him, every car had a story, and he was determined to preserve them.

That passion fueled him through the grueling years, and eventually, it paid off.

He still remembered the day his life changed. It had been years ago, but the memory remained vivid. That day, a convoy of high-end vehicles had rolled up to his garage, accompanied by an intimidating security detail. But those weren’t the things that had shaken him. It was the man who had stepped out—Cassius Blackwell himself, the man who had just crossed the trillion-dollar mark.

"I’m going to start keeping my cars here."

Bill recalled the way the words had been spoken—not as a request, not as a negotiation, but as a statement of fact. And instead of arguing, he had simply nodded in agreement. Looking back, he was glad he had. The sheer prestige of being the man trusted to store the richest man in the world’s cars had brought him more traffic than he had ever imagined.

That moment had set everything into motion. He had to expand, buying more space, investing in renovations, and turning the garage into the world-class facility he had always envisioned. His brother and best friend had quit their day jobs to join him full-time, and the operation grew from just the three of them to a workforce of 490—cleaners, mechanics, security personnel, and more. Today, his garage pulled in a minimum of ten million dollars in profit each year.

And he knew none of it would have been possible without one man and a stroke of luck.

Cassius Blackwell had built an island mansion, which meant keeping his cars there would have been impractical. Each time he needed to drive one, he would have had to ship it back to the mainland. Storing them at Bill’s facility solved that problem. But more than that, Cassius Blackwell had a taste for luxury unlike anyone Bill had ever seen. Over the years, he had amassed a staggering collection—forty-five of the rarest, most exotic cars in existence.

Bill wasn’t just storing those cars—he was maintaining them, protecting them, ensuring they remained in pristine condition. Out of the ten million he made annually, at least half of that came from the services he provided to the Blackwells.

And why did he call it luck? Because his garage had simply happened to be the closest to Blackwell’s Island. That stroke of fortune had changed everything. Cassius Blackwell could have chosen any facility in the world. But he had chosen Bill’s.

And that had made all the difference.

As the door slid open, Bill smiled and stepped forward. "Welcome to THE DEN," he announced, his voice tinged with pride. This was it—the centerpiece of his life’s work, the culmination of years of passion and perseverance.

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Barbara followed him inside, and the moment she crossed the threshold, her breath hitched. The sheer size of the space was impressive, but that wasn’t what stole her attention. It was the rows upon rows of gleaming cars, each more exquisite than the last. As someone who had always adored luxury automobiles, she felt as if she had stepped into paradise. If heaven had a showroom, she was standing in it.

A/N:

I want to dedicate this chapter to TW_MIRAGE—thank you so much! Because of you, I’ll be posting another chapter today. Thank you all!

Also, a special shoutout to VisineAnt for the golden ticket—I’m so happy! Thank you so much!

I received four golden tickets in just two days! I love you guys so much! If I can, I’ll release a third chapter today. Love you all!