258-259

Chapter 258: I’ll Take on Thirty-Three

Milo didn’t harbor any particular dislike for Madonna.

If she were ten years younger, Milo might not have minded doing some billion-dollar deals with her.

To have become a symbol of American pop culture, Madonna’s youthful appearance must have been exceptional.

As for her promiscuity—what Hollywood star hasn’t had their fair share of scandals after becoming famous? Or better yet, what major American figure has a squeaky-clean record? Expand that to the entire world, and you’ll find most human elites and high-ranking individuals aren’t spotless either.

Unfortunately, it was now late 1997, with just two years until the new millennium.

Madonna, an iconic figure of late 20th-century American pop culture, was aging and nearing irrelevance.

Naturally, Milo had lost interest in her in that way.

Still, seeing her clearly flattering and amiable demeanor, Milo smiled and engaged in polite conversation with her, even wrapping an arm around her slender waist to take a few photos.

Soon, the Victoria’s Secret Angels shed their sexy lingerie, donning glamorous evening gowns to make a dazzling entrance.

If you call dressing up with a piece of fabric or lace, featuring countless elements like spaghetti straps, lace, sheer panels, patchwork, and plunging necklines, a "glamorous" transformation—then the upgraded version of the Victoria’s Secret show certainly delivered.

Gisele Bündchen appeared in a stunning black deep-V backless evening gown, showing off her long legs and exuding explosive charisma. She quickly spotted Milo in the crowd.

Without any hesitation, she approached him with a radiant smile, embracing him and giving him a double cheek kiss. While Milo chuckled and shook his head, Madonna, standing nearby, couldn’t help but feel slightly stunned.

Gisele’s actions were perfectly natural and in line with American social etiquette.

But in the unphotographed area, Madonna, standing close, had clearly seen Milo slip his hand inside Gisele’s dress for a quick grope.

He didn’t even bother hiding it from her!

Having navigated the American entertainment industry for decades without losing much ground, Madonna wasn’t foolish.

In an instant, she grasped the relationship between Milo and Gisele.

She even deduced that the entire Victoria’s Secret brand might belong to this world’s richest man.

One realization led to another.

After some brief small talk, Madonna quickly excused herself and left.

Meanwhile, reporters in the distance continued snapping photos.

“There’s a grand party tonight,” Gisele whispered playfully. “A private party just for you and us. Everyone is waiting for you…”

“All of them?” Milo asked, slightly taken aback.

“Of course! But if there’s anyone you don’t like, I can arrange for her—or them—to leave early,” she added, smiling. “There are a lot of people though. Thirty-three to be exact. They all want to get closer to you…”

For a moment, Milo felt a bit overwhelmed.

Even Ip Man only took on ten opponents at once.

Thirty-three women against one guy? Are you kidding me?

“I’m not an octopus! I only have one…”

Then again, he thought, it might be worth a try.

Worst case, he could just focus on the ones he liked and let the rest entertain themselves.

“Alright,” Milo replied nonchalantly.

“Make the most of your youth”—it had always been his motto.

And these Victoria’s Secret Angels, with their looks and figures, were undoubtedly among the best women on the planet.

To enjoy the most beautiful and fit women on Earth was, in his view, a small indulgence of his male privilege.

“I promise you won’t be disappointed,” Gisele said with a giggle, relieved that all her meticulous planning had paid off.

Although still very young—barely even an adult—Gisele was no ordinary model.

She possessed not only an unparalleled runway presence but also intelligence and rationality, traits many other models lacked.

She knew exactly what she wanted, what she needed to do, and what sacrifices were worth making.

The night wasn’t over yet, and the private Victoria’s Secret supermodel showcase would have to wait a little longer.

After gaining Milo’s agreement, Gisele led him to a corner where the other Victoria’s Secret Angels were gathered.

“Hey everyone, guess who I brought!”

Gisele raised her arms excitedly and announced, her voice brimming with excitement.

“Whoa!”

“Oh my God, Mr. Blackburn!”

In a flurry of exclamations, Milo found himself surrounded by a pack of green-eyed “she-wolves.”

To be fair, every one of these thirty-three supermodels had a top-tier physique. Even if their looks weren’t absolute perfection, they each had unique features that made them strikingly beautiful.

Among them, only seven or eight had conducted billion-dollar business deals with him.

The rest were either new recruits or those yet to work with him on major deals.

As the models swarmed him, Milo couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of masculine satisfaction from this display of dominance.

Perhaps this was why ancient emperors loved having harems.

Like the lions on the African savannah, proud to sire the most cubs with the most lionesses, Milo reveled in the sheer indulgence of it all.

Naturally, the reporters nearby were ecstatic, snapping photos like crazy.

Having the world’s richest man appear at a fashion show was already explosive enough.

Now, this?

They didn’t even need to wait until the morning—news websites would likely crash from the sheer volume of traffic tonight.

In no time, someone suggested a group photo of all thirty-three angels with Milo.

Gisele, Carmen, Claudia Schiffer, and several other supermodels he had ties with cheered enthusiastically, practically shoving Milo into the center.

Milo didn’t resist.

After all, entertainment ruled America. Even the occupant of the White House wouldn’t shy away from such a spectacle.

Although such entertainment is rare in Milo's social class,

who could blame him for indulging? After all, he’s young! Youth is the perfect excuse to be carefree and grounded.

Amidst the sea of flowers, with a radiant smile on his face, Milo unapologetically spread his arms—Gisele Bündchen on his left, Carmen Kass on his right.

“Muah~”

“Muah~”

“Wow, haha...”

As the photo was being taken, both Gisele Bündchen and Carmen Kass, their faces adorned with enchanting smiles, kissed Milo on the cheeks. The scene drew waves of envious laughter from those nearby, adding even more excitement to the party atmosphere.

The reporters were surprised to capture a rare expression of playful pride on Milo’s face, now marked with lipstick stains—a look of pure enjoyment as he basked in the affection of these "angels."

“You two are setting an unfair precedent for the others. Why not let everyone have a turn?” one cheeky reporter suggested.

The idea was explosive—so much so that the suggestion became a call to action.

“Haha...”

“Sounds great! Haha...”

“Brilliant idea! Haha...”

The other supermodels were overjoyed. Unlike Gisele and Carmen, they hadn’t yet received Milo’s “favors.” Each one secretly longed for a chance to connect with him but feared upsetting him.

Now, taking advantage of the “safety in numbers” opportunity, they didn’t hold back. If there was a chance to “steal” from Milo, they wouldn’t miss it!

What followed was a scene of Milo surrounded by a pack of "hungry wolves."

Each new lipstick mark on his face triggered another round of laughter and cheers.

The party atmosphere grew even more electric, inevitably sparking jealousy among the other men present.

But what could they do? This was Milo Blackburn.

The after-show party continued for over an hour, finally winding down around 9 PM as the guests began to leave one by one.

The reporters left completely satisfied.

The material they captured that evening was enough to fuel their coverage for the next month: countless photos of Milo interacting intimately with the supermodels.

If it weren’t for the party setting, the large crowd, and the sheer number of supermodels surrounding him, such scenes might have sparked scandalous rumors.

But in this context, it was nothing more than highly entertaining, perfectly aligned with America’s “entertainment to the death” ethos—a fantastic story.

However, something unexpected puzzled both the reporters and certain admirers of the Victoria’s Secret Angels: after the party, all 33 Angels suddenly disappeared.

Normally, even after an event like this, it was still only 9 PM. The models might typically continue with after-parties, hit the streets for photoshoots in their glamorous dresses, or give interviews.

But this time, they all vanished without a trace. When reporters inquired the next morning, Victoria’s Secret claimed the Angels were resting, saying they were too exhausted.

This was unusual.

Yet, since it was a collective disappearance involving 33 people, no one thought too much of it. Group rest wasn’t entirely implausible.

Of course, this wasn’t the real reason for their collective “disappearance.”

The true reason lay in a private runway show—a special performance held directly on the still-standing runway of the 1997 Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show at the Waldorf Astoria.

With only one audience member—Milo—the 33 Angels put on a spectacular private show.

Naturally, the performance wasn’t like the ones broadcast on TV or viewed by thousands in the audience. This was an exclusive experience, and the content was… well, a little different.

Let’s just say there was more "interaction" between the models and their lone viewer than in the standard fashion show.

---

The following morning, Milo awoke groggily from the “entanglement” of a mountain of hips, endless legs, and a field of slender arms.

Phew—

He pushed aside a few bodies with the same casual ease as an average person pushing off a blanket in the morning.

And yet, if these “blankets” were outside, any one of them could make billionaires fall at their feet—they were international supermodels!

But as Milo sat up, surveying the scene, a thought crossed his mind:

If someone were filming this from above, adding some eerie background music, this could be the opening scene of a Hollywood horror show—maybe even a dark, sexy thriller.

His waist hurt. Really hurt.

He felt like he might have chafed his skin raw last night.

After all, switching through so many caves, it was no surprise his skin ended up bruised.

Exhale—  

Letting out another breath and shaking his head, Milo made up his mind. Next time, he couldn't keep playing like this.

This was literally playing with his life.

If he kept going at this reckless pace, who knows? By the time he reached the Sleep King's age, he might not be able to control his body anymore.

Not to mention, continuing like this would probably keep raising the threshold. Milo definitely didn’t want to become one of those twisted individuals.

So, that was it—time to stop.

He got up and left, heading to the suite he had prepared in advance to freshen up.

After showering, he didn’t put on clothes immediately. Instead, he called in the best spa therapist to start a session.

A full-body massage later, followed by a long rest, his body still felt sluggish, but his mental state had significantly improved.

Gone was the drained, exhausted feeling he’d had in the morning after being sapped by the “fairies” in the caves.

It wasn’t until the afternoon, almost dusk, that Milo finally felt ready to get to work.

But even after glancing at a few briefings, he still felt tired.

"Forget it," he thought, shutting down the computer. Milo stood up and turned toward the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Outside, New York’s early winter sunset painted the city with a montage of orange and red hues. Streets, pedestrians, and cars all transformed into symbols in a beautiful canvas.

After all the fun and indulgence, it was time to wrap things up and give back.

That way, if he ever wanted to play and enjoy himself again in the future, there would be positive feedback to build on.

When it came to handling the Victoria’s Secret arrangements, Milo didn’t bother stressing over the details.

After the annual fashion show, he planned to have them appear during next year’s Super Bowl.

If the annual show was Victoria’s Secret flaunting itself to the modeling and fashion world, then the Super Bowl performance was about showcasing their beauty, sexiness, and health to all of America and the Western world.

Besides these two major events, there were also TV programs lined up.

Beyond that, it would be business as usual, just like in the original timeline of Victoria’s Secret.

Perhaps even with the same ending.

In ten or so years, when people grew tired of over-the-top sensuality, Victoria’s Secret would eventually fall from its pedestal.

It was inevitable. After all, human aesthetics and societal trends are ever-changing.

So, this was it.

At most, he would do something thoughtful for a select few, like Gisele Bündchen, who had always been considerate, or "Foxy Eyes," who had brought him so much joy.

For them, he’d arrange a few perks—maybe a movie role, an endorsement deal, or a luxury villa or sports car.

For the majority of the 33 Angels, though, what they’d get after last night was simply an additional tax-free bonus in their weekly paychecks, disguised as a charitable foundation grant.

Amounts ranging from $300,000 to $500,000.

What else?

Bring all 33 of them back to have kids?

Don’t be ridiculous. Even King Jing of Zhongshan didn’t play like that.

Even if someone wanted to have his child, Milo’s criteria demanded only the most exceptional women as mothers—or women with emotional value to him.

He wasn’t one to plant seeds carelessly.

(End of Chapter)  

*Chapter 259: Ivanna Pregnant?*

As November settled in New York, the weather turned cold and windy. However, the sunshine remained exceptionally bright.

The next morning, Milo sat on the sofa by the floor-to-ceiling window, dressed in his robe, basking in the warm sunlight while reading the newspaper.

He hadn’t sought anyone out last night and slept alone—recovering from overindulgence the night before.

He needed to take it slow.

*[...President Zipperton delivered a televised address, offering a sincere apology to the American public.]*

Reading the numerous headlines about Zipperton on the newspaper, Milo chuckled lightly. Tsk-tsk, his own spotlight at the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show had been stolen by Zipperton.

But if given a choice, Zipperton probably wouldn’t want to share the headlines with him in such a way.

Yes, the “Zippergate” scandal had finally erupted.

Originally, it was supposed to blow up last year, but since it was an election year, many forces had suppressed the news.

This year, however, was not an election year, and next year’s midterm elections were crucial.

So, the Elephant Party decided not to hold back, launching an attack against Zipperton and the Donkey Party at this time.

Perhaps they hoped to replicate the Watergate scandal and even force Zipperton to step down early.

But the social climate, shamelessness, and the strength of Zipperton’s backing were different now.

Chances were, Zipperton would remain safe and sound in the White House for another three years.

Still, after such an uproar, the Donkey Party’s chances in next year’s midterm elections looked grim.

“Mr. Blackburn, your Chinese breakfast is ready.”

A gentle voice suddenly spoke nearby.

Milo put down the newspaper and looked up. Standing there was a beautiful and elegant Chinese maid, her eyes lowered respectfully.

“Xiaoli, I got it. I’ll be right there.”

With a faint smile, Milo glanced again at Zipperton’s disheveled image on the newspaper, folded it shut, tossed it on the table, and got up from the sofa to head to the dining room.

The maid, whose English name was Sherry and Chinese name was Liu Li, led the way in front of him.

Watching her graceful figure, with the curves beneath her maid outfit swaying gently as she walked, Milo couldn’t help but smirk.

Yes, this Chinese maid, known as Sherry in English, was the very same nanny Milo had discovered at Sophie’s place a few months ago.

Milo had immediately arranged for her to undergo training. If she proved capable, she would eventually become his personal assistant.

After a series of training sessions, Sherry performed quite well.

Now, she was serving as his personal maid, essentially on a probationary period.

If things went smoothly, in six months or a year, she could officially become his personal assistant.

“This is soy milk, this is fried dough sticks, and these are Chinese buns. These are all very common breakfast items in China.”

Liu Li served him gently, her attitude and actions flawless.

Before her training as a maid, she had already studied child caregiving as a nanny.

Being a nanny is, essentially, being a caregiver, and she excelled in her role.

Additionally, she had studied dance before coming to the United States, achieving a respectable level of skill.

This gave her movements an elegant quality that made her especially pleasing to the eye after her training.

Coupled with her deep gratitude and personal attachment to Milo, her demeanor only added to her charm.

As Milo enjoyed his authentic Chinese breakfast, he chatted casually with her.

“Sherry, is your daughter adjusting well to the Lipton Church School?”

In the original timeline, Sherry had secured U.S. citizenship for herself and her daughter by marrying a Chinese-American lawyer.

But in this altered timeline, perhaps due to Milo’s influence, Sherry’s fate had taken a different turn.

She hadn’t met that lawyer yet and had been recruited by Sophie instead.

Currently, she was unmarried, living with her daughter in Brooklyn, and her daughter had been attending a regular boarding school.

After becoming Milo’s personal maid, her daughter was conveniently enrolled in a prestigious church school in Manhattan, courtesy of Milo.

This arrangement made Sherry deeply grateful.

Her expression was soft and submissive as she replied, “Everything is wonderful. Crystal told me she loves her new school.”

“That’s good.” Milo smiled as he continued eating.

Interestingly, he hadn’t met this “Crystal” yet—her English name, meaning “crystal,” derived from her given Chinese name, Xixi.

She should be about ten years old now.

Considering the slower development of Chinese girls, there was no rush.

Still… preparations could be made.

With that thought, Milo asked, “By the way, Sherry, have you ever thought about Crystal becoming a star? Maybe pursuing a career in Hollywood or the entertainment industry?”

“Ah?” Sherry, who was refilling Milo’s soy milk, was momentarily stunned. Then, her face lit up with surprise and joy. “Do you mean it?”

“Yes, the novel series I’ve written, Harry Potter, has already been published up to the fifth book.”

“Paladin Films is preparing to adapt it for the big screen, essentially turning it into a movie.”

“There will be a relatively important supporting character in it—a young Chinese girl who is a witch. Based on her age, I think she’s about the same as your daughter, Crystal. Maybe your daughter could audition for this role.”

This character refers to Cho Chang, the Chinese witch who was Harry’s first crush in the Harry Potter series.

In the original timeline, Milo, like many readers of the original novels, felt dissatisfied with the casting of Cho Chang in the movie adaptation.

The character was described in the book as a stunning beauty. Otherwise, how could she have captivated Harry to the point of distraction, blinding him to the affections of Ginny, the girl right beside him?

However, the casting choice in the movie version left many disappointed.

Don’t try to explain it away by saying, “That’s just how Westerners perceive Asians.”

If Westerners truly preferred such looks for Asian women, then why are the most-viewed and most-clicked Asian women on a certain “unspeakable website” all considered beauties by traditional Asian standards, rather than flat-faced or awkward-looking individuals?

To put it bluntly, the unfortunate casting choice for Cho Chang was the result of Hollywood’s obsession with political correctness.

This is political correctness aimed at Asians—especially Chinese people.

In Hollywood movies, any character associated with Chinese or Asian heritage often comes with a near-automatic aesthetic downgrade.

The goal seems to be to subtly influence Western and even global audiences into thinking that Asians should look a certain way.

Why? Because, from a potential perspective, Asians are the only group capable of competing with Caucasians.

The suppression has never stopped, regardless of whether other nations rise or not.

If Milo were thinking purely from the perspective of his current position of power, he should support this unspoken rule.

But he decided to indulge himself this time. This could be seen as a small act of defiance within the framework of American authority.

He was determined to push Crystal, who is beautiful, for the role. After all, who would dare oppose him?

Even if political correctness is a priority in the U.S., it depends on who it’s being applied to!

---

After breakfast, with the help of Shirley, Milo changed into casual outdoor wear—a pair of pristine white sneakers, slim-fit washed jeans, a sweater-shirt combo, and a navy-blue short trench coat.

Once outside, he got into a car in the middle of the convoy.

Shortly after, Shirley also joined him, now dressed in a professional black pinstriped fitted OL suit, black stockings, and heels, looking like she was afraid of being left behind.

Currently, Shirley wasn’t a personal assistant yet but rather a maid-in-waiting.

Since her title included the word “personal,” it naturally meant that wherever Milo went, she would follow, except during her off-hours.

“Let’s go,” Milo instructed David, the driver, as the faint scent of Chanel No. 7 from Shirley lingered in the air.

The convoy merged onto the main road. Inside the spacious vehicle, a custom-built Cadillac Escalade extended to nearly 20 feet, Milo reclined on a plush leather seat while Shirley fastened his seatbelt.

She handed him a briefing document, which he began to read.

In this mobile palace on wheels, Milo relaxed while Shirley fed him $226 ruby-red Roman grapes one by one.

“Wow, these little gems really do rake in the money,” Milo remarked, savoring the sweetness of the grapes.

“Shirley, you should try some. They’re expensive but worth the taste.”

At first, Shirley hesitated. These grapes were far too luxurious—over $226 per piece! Converted to her home currency, that was more than 1,700 yuan for a single grape.

Back when she worked as a dance coach in China, her monthly salary wasn’t even 500 yuan.

In other words, it would have taken her three to four months’ salary to buy just one grape.

“I…” Shirley tried to decline politely.

“Eat,” Milo commanded without looking up.

Reluctantly, Shirley picked up a grape the size of a ping-pong ball and took a bite.

The flavor was exquisite—unquestionably the best grape she had ever tasted.

But even so, she couldn’t help but think $226 per grape was outrageously overpriced and utterly impractical.

“Not bad, right? Ha! These grapes are actually produced by one of my companies in Japan,” Milo said casually.

Technically speaking, these ruby-red Roman grapes were a joint venture between Milo and Sumitomo Tomoko. Their Blackburn & Sumitomo Group collaborated with a Japanese agricultural research institute to develop and produce the grapes.

The Japanese agricultural group handled the research and cultivation, while Sumitomo Tomoko’s company managed the marketing.

Interestingly, the grapes were marketed internationally first—exported to the U.S. and Europe—before being sold back to Japan.

Even the $7,200 price tag per bunch was set by Milo himself.

As for production costs? Even factoring in research expenses, the cost per bunch was no more than $1,000.

If research costs were excluded, the cultivation expense for one bunch of grapes was under $100.

The profit margin was astronomical.

However, thanks to the collaboration between Paladin Media and the Neon People, the sales can be described as excellent.

Seeing this, Milo began to consider having Tomoko Sumitomo establish a luxury food company in Japan. The company would specialize in developing and marketing high-end “status symbol” fruits exclusively for wealthy consumers.

At that moment, a phone placed on the side started ringing. It was the work phone.

Xiao Li quickly reached for it, glanced at the screen, and then handed it to Milo. “Mr. Blackburn, it’s a call from Mr. Kemp.”

“Oh?” Milo reached out, took the phone, and answered with a smile, holding it to his ear. “Don, good morning.”

“Heh, good morning, Milo. So... do you have any plans later?”

“I’m actually on my way to your golf club. Our mayor invited me, along with the governor, for a round of golf. If you’re interested, Don, you’re welcome to join us.”

Normally, Kemp’s first reaction would be to enthusiastically accept. In fact, even without an invitation, the old man would probably find a way to tag along.

But to Milo’s surprise, Kemp didn’t immediately agree today. Instead, his tone was hesitant. “I—I’d love to, of course. But there’s... something going on here, so I might not be able to make it.”

“Oh, then let’s do it next time,” Milo replied casually.

“And Don, you must have called for a reason. Go ahead and tell me.”

“Hoo—”

Milo could hear Kemp exhaling deeply on the other end before speaking. “There is something, actually. It’s about Ivana. Here’s the thing: this morning, my housekeeper was sorting through the shopping bags Ivana brought back from Barneys New York, and she found something…”

Barneys New York is a high-end department store on Manhattan Island, established in 1929. It primarily sells luxury clothing and has since expanded its product offerings. For instance, Tomoko Sumitomo’s Ruby Roman Grapes are among the items available there.

In short, it’s a boutique store where only Manhattan’s wealthy residents can afford to shop.

But that aside, whether it was the Kemp Milo had seen in his previous life on television or the one he knew now, this was the first time he’d heard Kemp sound so hesitant, a far cry from his usual boldness.

“Just say it, Don,” Milo said, slightly impatient. “What exactly did you find in Ivana’s shopping bags?”

Kemp must have picked up on Milo’s tone because he sped up his words. “A pregnancy test! Ivana bought a pregnancy test. Anyway, I think it’s best if you come over. We’re all at Kemp Tower right now!”

Hearing the word “pregnancy test,” it was Milo’s turn to be momentarily stunned.

Ivana? A pregnancy test?

Why would she buy something like that?

But then, thinking about the timing, it kind of made sense. Thanksgiving was only a few days away.

With that thought, Milo immediately responded, “Alright, I understand. I’ll head over right now…”

(End of Chapter)