It’s been about 6 years since Jack vanished from his old life. After pulling one last job that went sideways, he disappeared. Thanks to a fake identity (bought with old favors and some hush money), he became Professor John Ford, a well-liked but weirdly slick finance professor at a mid-sized Florida university. His lectures are a hit. His students quote him on Twitter. Even the ones who skip class show up for his midterm reviews.

He talks about hedge funds and offshore accounts the way a man might talk about war stories:

“I knew a guy who slipped a hundred grand through three banks in under 48 hours. Most people can’t even do that with a suitcase and a prayer. But this guy? He understood leverage.”

He’s charming. Smooth. Hands-in-pockets kinda cool. The other professors either adore him or deeply distrust him. He’s the type to disappear for three days and show up claiming he was “volunteering at a financial literacy camp for at-risk youth.”

he teaches it with this criminal flair that makes the class feel like a secret seminar in How Not to Get Caught. He’ll drop these little golden nuggets of “advice” under the guise of:

“I knew a guy once…”

Like:

“I knew a guy who managed to fake 30 identities over five years, all because he understood how credit scores worked better than the banks themselves. Moral of the story? Never underestimate compound interest.”

Or—

“Say you’ve got $10,000 and you’re trying to hide it from your second ex-wife. Hypothetically. You’d be surprised what you can do with offshore accounts. I mean—he was surprised. The guy I knew.”

He’d have the classroom absolutely hooked. Students wouldn’t even know they’re learning—until midterms hit and they ace it because Jack made finance make sense. Real-world. Gritty. No fluff.