I Inherited Trillions, Now What?-Chapter 62: Nvidia III

Two days before the pivotal battle for dominance in NVIDIA, a trillion-dollar company at the forefront of cutting-edge innovations in graphics processing and artificial intelligence (AI), Gerald Thompson sat in his luxurious suite in Santa Clara, California.

As one of the managing directors of The Vanguard Group, Inc., Gerald represented an investment behemoth with $10.1 trillion in assets under management. Vanguard, the largest company in the world by assets, operated as a colossus in nearly every industry.

Yet, for all its reach, it was merely a tool—a custodian for its clients: the European ultra-elites. These were ancient, unimaginably wealthy families, their fortunes built on the foundations of slavery, subjugation, and everyone’s favourites the bloodied spoils of war.

The European elites were the oldest and wealthiest families in the world, with only their Asian counterparts rivaling them in terms of historical legacy and enduring influence. They had founded Vanguard to channel their ill-gotten riches into generating even more wealth. For them, as Gerald often thought with mild disdain, it’s never enough.

Gerald wasn’t just any managing director. He was one of Vanguard’s key representatives for NVIDIA, a crown jewel in their portfolio. This time, he was here to address a growing threat—the Blackwells. The influential family had been maneuvering to gain a foothold in NVIDIA’s day-to-day operations. Vanguard’s official stance, as Gerald embodied it, had evolved over the years. Initially, they viewed the Blackwells as a useful counterbalance to BlackRock, their primary American rival.

For a time, Vanguard had subtly supported the Blackwells, enabling them to keep BlackRock preoccupied with drawn-out battles. But as the Blackwells’ influence surged everything changed some few years ago when they realized something chilling—the company they once regarded as a minor player used to occupy their main rivals had grown into such a formidable force that even they began to feel its pressure.

they now sought to suppress the Blackwells before their ambitions threatened even Vanguard’s dominance.

Tonight, Gerald prepared to reiterate that stance at an upcoming meeting. "They entered the AI market too late," he muttered, flipping through reports on NVIDIA’s recent performance. Vanguard’s control remained solid despite the buying spectacle caused by the others, but even the faintest disruption had to be nipped in the bud.

A chime at the door interrupted his thoughts. Sighing, he placed the documents back on the desk and stood. The suite’s opulence was a testament to Vanguard’s financial payments—a vast living area with Italian marble floors, designer furniture, and a panoramic view of the city skyline framed by floor-to-ceiling windows. As he approached the door, Gerald glanced through the peephole and blinked in surprise.

Standing on the other side was Everlyn Hawthorne, Alexander Blackwell’s trusted second-in-command.

Opening the door, Gerald greeted her with his signature calm, deep voice. "Miss Hawthorne," he said, his tone betraying a hint of curiosity. "To what do I owe the pleasure of meeting Alexander Blackwell’s right hand?"

Everlyn stood poised in a tailored black suit that exuded high-end sophistication, her presence commanding as always. She regarded him with a cool, professional demeanor, her eyes sharp with purpose.

Everlyn entered the living area after receiving Gerald’s invitation to come in. Gerald, a man with years of experience in the business world, greeted her with his usual air of professionalism. He turned toward her and said, "Miss Hawthorne, this is an unexpected surprise. Would you care for a beverage? I’m afraid we’ll have to settle for the hotel’s selection."

Everlyn replied with a small smile. "No worries about that, Mr. Thompson. I came to discuss something with you."

Gerald studied her for a moment before gesturing toward the seating area. "Alright then, let’s sit."

The two settled into the living area, sitting on opposite couches. Gerald leaned back, his expression unreadable, and spoke first. "Miss Hawthorne, I know you’re a busy woman. How about we skip the formalities, and you just tell me what you want?"

Everlyn, unfazed by his directness, said calmly, "It’s about the upcoming shareholders’ meeting."

Gerald raised an eyebrow and cut her off before she could continue. "Miss Hawthorne, I’m sorry to say this, but if it’s about the shareholders’ meeting, our stance won’t change. As I’m sure you’ve figured out, we’ve decided to back CEO Jensen’s decision to reject the Blackwell representative. Nvidia is on a great path, and we see no reason to disrupt that. I appreciate you coming all the way here, but—"

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Everlyn raised a hand, interrupting him. Her tone was resolute. "That’s not why I’m here."

Gerald blinked, momentarily thrown off. "It’s not?"

"No," Everlyn said firmly. "We have that handled already. What we need from you is something entirely different."

Now intrigued, Gerald’s demeanor shifted. He leaned forward slightly. "Oh? And what might that be?"

Everlyn met his gaze, her expression calm but determined. "We’re proposing the issuance of new outstanding shares, and we would like you to vote in favor of it."

Her words left Gerald momentarily stunned. Then he burst into laughter. "You’re joking, right? This is hilarious!" He laughed harder, leaning back against the couch. But when he glanced at Everlyn’s composed expression, his laughter faltered. "Wait… you’re serious?"

"We are," Everlyn said with an unwavering tone.

Gerald shook his head, a faint smile still lingering. "I get it—Alexander wants to make a statement now that his father has passed, to prove he’s not someone to mess with. But this? This is bold, even for him."

Everlyn’s expression tightened at the mention of her boss being mocked, but she maintained her composure. "Are you done, Mr. Thompson?"

Gerald finally stopped laughing and nodded. "Alright, alright. I’m done."

Everlyn leaned forward slightly, her tone growing more persuasive. "As it stands, Vanguard owns 8.75% of Nvidia, making it the largest shareholder. However, because of your lack of participation in the shares battle, your position is no longer as dominant as it used to be. BlackRock now owns 7.0%, and we hold 6.5%. Issuing new shares would be an opportunity for you to strengthen your standing and demonstrate your willingness to regain stability."

Gerald crossed his arms, clearly skeptical. "You paint a pretty picture, Miss Hawthorne, but let’s be honest. Knowing your firm, this sounds like a ploy to benefit yourselves. Why would we willingly risk weakening our position?"

Everlyn smiled faintly and reached into her bag, pulling out a document. She handed it to Gerald, who took it cautiously. His eyes widened as he scanned the detailed plan laid out before him.

Everlyn’s voice broke the silence, smooth and deliberate. "The future, Mr. Thompson. That’s what you have to gain."

Still staring at the document, Gerald’s mind started turning muttering to himself, "This would disrupt the market value… Could it even be sustainable? We’d have to verify its feasibility…"

Everlyn’s voice interrupted his musings. "It’s all possible. We just need your approval at the conference."

Gerald put the file down and said, "It doesn’t change anything. Even with our vote, it wouldn’t pass. It’s a dead idea."

Everlyn replied, "No, it would pass. State Street is already in on it, and with your vote and ours, we can swing the favor to our side. From there, we can strong-arm some of the minor shareholders to vote with us."

Still resolute, Gerald said, "It doesn’t matter. Our stance is to support CEO Jensen Huang. If this passes, it would drastically reduce his power on the board while giving you more authority. We will decline."

Everlyn smiled and said, "Mr. Thompson, I’m sorry to tell you this, but your opinion doesn’t matter. I showed you this so you can pass it on to the real decision-makers behind your group. I’m sure they’ll find this aligns with their interests—or should I say, their pockets—much more."

Gerald frowned, knowing she was right, but retorted, "All of this is still baseless. It hinges on the premise that you get approval to join the board. That won’t happen. Even with State Street’s support, Jensen, BlackRock, and us won’t vote yes. Even if you get the minor shareholders on your side, you still won’t be approved."

Everlyn, still smiling, said, "Don’t worry about that. Our entry onto the board is inevitable. Just show those files to your owners, and the rest will take care of itself."

After Everlyn left, Gerald paced back and forth in his hotel room. For a man with years of experience in the finance world, renowned for his calm demeanor, being this unsettled was a testament to the audacity and boldness of the Blackwells’ plan. He glanced at the file in his hand and shook his head. "It doesn’t matter—they won’t get approved onto the board," he muttered, trying to reassure himself.

But the certainty in Everlyn’s voice about their inevitable approval lingered in his mind, making him question his conviction. After a moment of hesitation, he picked up his phone and called the person who had brought him into this business: the CEO of Vanguard himself.

Meanwhile, in the back seat of a rented SUV driven by a chauffeur, heading back to her temporary residence in California, Everlyn was on a phone call. "Sir, I’ve delivered the message," she said.

A deep voice responded from the other end. "Good work."

Everlyn hesitated before speaking again. "Sir, I just don’t understand why you didn’t call the Europeans yourself. It would’ve carried more weight. And by leveraging this, we might even get Vanguard to vote for our entry into the boardroom."

The voice on the other end said, "As for the first, it’s complicated for now. I’ll explain later. As for the second, it’s to ensure they don’t feel entitled and demand a larger share well when all is said and done. You need to secure the maximum profits for us. And about the board entry—don’t worry. I’ve already made arrangements to facilitate your approval."

Hearing this, Everlyn replied confidently, "Understood, Mr. Blackwell. Don’t worry; I’ll deliver satisfactory results."

The man on the other end was none other than her direct boss, the wealthiest man in the world, Alexander Blackwell. In his distinctively deep and commanding voice, he said, "I expect nothing less," before ending the call.

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