Inside the elegant and imposing eting room of The Ritz-Carlton, Riyadh, sat the most powerful man in all of Saudi Arabia: the Crown Prince. A figure whose influence stretched far beyond the boundaries of his country, he had been embroiled in more controversies than the average world leader. Yet, despite his stature, today was different. He wasn't the one making the demands. Today, he had co to et soone whose presence and power overshadowed even his own.
The room, which had been filled with the usual murmurs of diplomacy, now held an air of uncertainty. The stakes of this eting were monuntal—this was no ordinary encounter. The future of the Saudi nation itself hung in the balance. But it wasn't the prince who was dictating the tone of this eting. It was Alexander Blackwell.
"Let cut to the chase," ca Alexander's voice, his tone direct and unwavering.
At the words, the Saudi delegation tensed, their eyes sharpening at the sudden shift in atmosphere. Evelyn, seated quietly at the side, observed the way their bodies stiffened ever so slightly—an imperceptible but telling reaction. Alexander Blackwell, it seed, had done the impossible: he had rattled the nerves of n who were used to holding all the cards.
Alexander, who had been sitting behind the polished mahogany desk, either feigned ignorance or was truly unaware of the profound effect his words had caused. There was no softening, no pleasantries or warm-ups—just an abrupt, matter-of-fact introduction. It was a stark contrast to the usual formalities of etings of this caliber, where the exchange of niceties was as much a part of the proceedings as the business at hand. But to Alexander, such trivialities were nothing more than a waste of ti. This was too important to be bogged down by irrelevant gestures.
The Saudi delegation, their nerves frayed, could only sit in stunned silence. They had dealt with countless powerful figures in the past, but none had approached them in this manner. As the prince reflected on the situation, he couldn't help but think, Just like that—no pleasantries, no acknowledgent of my position, no respect for the established norms. Straight to the point. And that point was more direct, more daring, than any he had encountered before.
Years of business experience had shaped Alexander Blackwell into a master strategist. He had spent decades cultivating an image of calm authority, one that could break through even the most hardened of political and corporate barriers. His body language was casual, almost too relaxed, as though he was discussing nothing more than a routine business transaction.
"I'll make it simple," Alexander continued, his voice still steady and almost unnervingly calm. "I need you to do a few things."
The room held its breath, the gravity of the words hanging in the air like a thick fog. The prince, though well-versed in the delicate art of negotiation, found himself wondering what exactly Blackwell had in mind. His advisors, who were normally unshakable in the face of pressure, exchanged uncomfortable glances.
"What would those be?" The prince's voice was cautious, his eyes narrowing slightly as he braced himself for whatever ca next. His curiosity, however, was laced with an undercurrent of skepticism. Who in their right mind would co here with such audacious demands?
Alexander's gaze never wavered, his eyes locked onto the prince's with a focused intensity. He was already mapping out his plan, calculating every move, every consequence, and he spoke as if every word were carefully chosen to strike at the heart of the matter.
"First," he began, "I want you to ramp up oil production. Right now, you're producing 8.95 million barrels of oil per day. It's a decent number, but it's not nearly enough for what I'm planning. You need to increase that to twenty million barrels a day for now. That should suffice." His tone was matter-of-fact, as if he were discussing the price of grain in a market.
The Saudi advisors froze in disbelief. The sheer magnitude of the request was almost laughable. Twenty million barrels a day? One of the advisors, struggling to grasp the implications, stamred, "What... excuse ? You can't possibly be serious. That's—"
But Alexander, unperturbed, waved him off. "Yes, I am serious. You'll find a way to make it happen. The resources are there; it's just a matter of shifting priorities. If you want to stay relevant, you'll need to keep up."
The shock in the room was palpable. The prince's face remained stoic, but his mind was already racing. This wasn't the kind of request one made lightly—this was a business deal that could alter the very structure of the global oil market. He had expected Alexander to ask for sothing significant, but this... this was on a completely different level.
But Alexander wasn't finished. His next words sent another shockwave through the room.
"Next," he continued, "I want you to start massive investnts in electric products. I've recently partnered with soone in the electric vehicle industry, and I intend to have them open a factory here. I will personally arrange for one of their best vehicles to be delivered to you, Your Highness, as a token of goodwill. You'll promote it, go to etings, push it as the future of transportation. It's ti Saudi Arabia makes a shift toward renewable energy. And that includes solar. The entire country needs to adopt solar energy as a mainstream source of power."
The advisors' mouths hung open in disbelief. The audacity of his demands was staggering. Not only was he asking them to shift their focus from oil, but he was also suggesting that they lead the charge into a completely different energy market—a market that would, by nature, undermine their current dominance. It was a plan so bold, so visionary, that it bordered on madness.
But Alexander wasn't done yet.
"And finally," he said, his voice now dropping slightly, as if sharing a secret with them, "I want you to wash trade and short the future stocks of the oil market."
The words hung in the air, thick with tension. The advisors looked at each other in stunned silence, the aning of the phrase sinking in. Wash trading, a practice where assets are sold and repurchased to manipulate market prices, was illegal in most parts of the world, but in the context of this conversation, it was sothing entirely different. It wasn't just a request; it was a directive that could send shockwaves through the financial world.
Alexander, sensing their hesitation, leaned forward slightly, his gaze unwavering. "The prince himself shouldn't be involved in this, of course," he added, with the faintest trace of a smirk. "But a mber of the royal family, soone not too far removed from power but not too significant to cause suspicion—soone like that should be more than sufficient to handle this."
The room was silent. The prince's face had gone pale, his expression betraying the full extent of his shock. This man was suggesting a move that could collapse the world's oil market. The prince had never been one to shy away from difficult decisions, but this... this was beyond anything he had anticipated.
One of the advisors, unable to contain himself any longer, shouted in disbelief, "Are you insane? Do you realize what you're asking us to do? You want to—"
But the prince, his voice grave and trembling with barely-contained fury, cut him off.
"You want to collapse the world's oil market?" His words were laced with pure horror as he looked at Alexander. The implications of what was being proposed were so far-reaching that it left him speechless.
The world's oil market, valued at approximately $7.75 trillion, forms the backbone of global economic stability. It's not just an industry; it's a fundantal pillar of human civilization. Oil is deeply embedded in the infrastructure of nations, powering transportation, fueling industries, heating hos, and shaping the very fabric of geopolitics. It drives economies, influences global alliances, and dictates the fortunes of entire nations. From the hum of an engine to the glow of a streetlamp, oil is the silent force behind the machinery of life. Its vastness and strength have made it seem unshakable, impervious to disruption—until now.
And then, After he had walked into the room, and in a matter of minutes, Alexander Blackwell had suggested dismantling this colossal force in a way that seed almost absurd. But the calm and ruthless precision in his tone made it clear: he wasn't joking.
He had started with a seemingly simple demand: increase oil production—but not by a small margin. He wanted Saudi Arabia to pump 20 million barrels of oil per day, nearly doubling their current output. To most, this would seem like a wildly ambitious proposition, but in reality, it was a ti bomb for the global oil market.
By pushing the production levels this high, Alexander knew exactly what would happen. With a surge in supply, the price of oil would plumt, flooding the market with cheap crude. The sudden oversupply would overwhelm the existing demand, and the entire pricing structure would collapse under the weight of it. Oil futures would nosedive, dragging down companies, nations, and investors whose wealth was tied to this vital commodity. The ripple effect would be felt from Wall Street to Dubai, from Moscow to Beijing. This wasn't just an economic hit; this was a strategic war on the foundation of modern civilization itself.
Next, Alexander had proposed sothing even more devastating: Saudi Arabia, the kingdom that built itself on oil, should pivot away from it entirely. The very idea of a nation so inextricably linked to the petroleum industry beginning to abandon oil as its main source of revenue was unthinkable. If the Saudis, the heart and soul of the oil empire, suddenly moved away from oil in favor of renewable energy, electric vehicles, and solar power, it would send shockwaves through the entire global market.
The world would no longer look at oil as the sure-fire, stable investnt it always had been. The most powerful oil nation in the world cutting back on production, refocusing efforts on clean energy, would make global markets lose confidence in oil—and with that loss of faith, every price forecast, every trade decision, would beco a ga of uncertainty. The world would begin shifting its focus, seeing oil as unstable, unsustainable, and ultimately, a relic of the past.
But Alexander wasn't done. His final proposal was perhaps the most shocking of all: He wanted the Saudi royal family to engage in wash trading—a financial maneuver so devious, so illegal, it was enough to make even the most seasoned financial experts recoil. By manipulating oil futures, the Saudis could artificially inflate and deflate prices, creating chaos in the global market, making billions off the volatility. A move like this wouldn't just ruin the market—it would destabilize it beyond repair, turning it into a volatile, unpredictable beast that no one would dare trust.
The Prince of Saudi Arabia sat frozen, processing the full weight of what Alexander had just laid out. This wasn't just a business eting anymore—it was a reckoning. The man in front of him was proposing the destruction of an entire industry, one that had been the lifeblood of Saudi Arabia's wealth for decades.
As the Prince absorbed the implications of these requests, his heart began to race. If they acted on any of Alexander's proposals, it could bring about untold consequences—collapsing the oil markets, destroying Saudi Arabia's economy, and plunging the world into a global recession. The future of millions of lives—from everyday workers to world leaders—hung in the balance.
A bead of sweat ford on the Prince's forehead as he glanced at his advisors, all of them equally stunned, their faces pale with shock. They had all been in high-stakes etings before, but nothing like this. This was unthinkable, yet the man sitting across from them was utterly unbothered, leaning back in his chair with an air of complete indifference, as if proposing the collapse of the oil market was just another day at the office.
The advisors began to murmur amongst themselves, their voices rising in confusion and disbelief, The room fell silent, and all eyes turned to Alexander, who t the prince's gaze with cold, calculating eyes, as if the question didn't faze him in the least.
The prince, his voice now a whisper of fear, thought to himself, "What kind of devil have I t with?"
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