229-230

Chapter 229: African Interests and the Retail Empire

When it came to business in Africa, Milo's attention was both present and lacking.

He cared because his company, United Global—the most capable PMC (Private Military Company) under his command—was entirely stationed there.

This private military force had cost him nearly a billion dollars, representing his initial foray into building a personal military structure.

Naturally, he cared about it.

Moreover, the success of operations in sub-Saharan Africa would not only benefit Milo personally but could also bolster the United States as a whole.

Contrary to common assumptions, as the world's current "policeman," America's foothold in sub-Saharan Africa wasn’t as solid as one might think.

Although the U.S. operated 30 military bases in the region, military presence is ultimately subservient to political influence. Given the region’s political landscape, many of these bases weren’t particularly impactful.

To put it bluntly, America’s influence in sub-Saharan Africa was weaker than what China would achieve there a decade later, not to mention being far outmatched by European powers like Britain and France.

In simpler terms, America had limited sway in Africa.

In contrast to countries like France—Africa’s unofficial ruler—or Britain, the former colonial giant, America often relied on CIA operations and leveraging three of its four major grain companies to pressure locals.

This was a far cry from the ease with which France or Britain operated.

This disparity was part of the reason U.S. generals at the Pentagon supported Milo's activities in Africa.

If Milo could establish a stable foothold in Africa, spreading influence to neighboring regions and strengthening U.S. presence, even Washington would be intrigued.

On the surface, United Global’s deployment to Sierra Leone was just another mercenary job.

But in reality, it reflected America’s growing ambition to expand its global influence.

Thus, Milo didn’t fret endlessly over the situation.

Those concerns belonged to the U.S. African Command, the CIA's Africa desk, and the generals who had become entangled in these efforts at the Pentagon.

This explained why Milo wasn’t overly preoccupied. United Global was simply a front—a façade for America’s attempt to amplify its voice in Africa.

France’s swift and intense reaction to Milo’s involvement further underscored this dynamic.

Had it only been about a diamond mine, the French wouldn’t have turned to Milo or the U.S. at all.

They could have simply sent their own mercenaries to fight Milo’s PMC.

However, the special backing of Milo’s operation complicated things.

When considering action against United Global, the French had to factor in Washington’s stance.

France wanted to drive United Global out to maintain its interests in Africa but hesitated to provoke the U.S. into direct intervention.

The Gulf War of 1991 hadn’t only terrified that country across the Pacific; it had shocked every military power worldwide.

That war demonstrated how the U.S., with an overwhelming imbalance of force, could destroy an opponent’s military infrastructure without even deploying tanks.

The spectacle had left global leaders stunned.

By 1997, with the collapse of the Soviet Union, no nation remained capable of challenging the U.S. militarily.

At least, not yet.

---

After spending more than a week in Santa Barbara with Monica, who was now several months pregnant, Milo offered the excuse of work obligations in Los Angeles and left on September 20.

In Los Angeles, Charlize sat in the back of a car wearing a purple, sleeveless lace dress. Her cropped golden hair framed her face as she gazed through the window at the dazzling lights of Hollywood. The sparkling cityscape stretched below like a glittering galaxy, mesmerizing in its brilliance.

The lively parties, the adoration of the crowd, and the men whose eyes lingered on her—hungry yet restrained—kept her in high spirits.

Her lead role in a new film, the comfortable atmosphere of Hollywood, and her lavish lifestyle were all fruits of signing a contract to be Milo’s mistress.

Life, she thought, was exquisite.

The only downside was her role as a mistress—and not the only one.

The car soon turned onto a private road, passing through the gates of a villa. When the car stopped, Charlize stepped out gracefully, thanking the female bodyguard who opened the door.

She noticed the lights inside the villa and furrowed her brows slightly. Just as she was about to ask about it, realization dawned.

Her lightly flushed face turned even redder as a surge of joy lit up her eyes. Without hesitation, she slipped off her heels and ran barefoot into the villa.

There he was, standing at the door in just a pair of shorts, smiling at her. Milo opened his arms wide, patting his chest in invitation.

Charlize beamed with excitement, her lace gown swaying as she leaped into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck like a koala and planting a kiss on his lips.

---

Back in Santa Barbara, Monica’s pregnancy had passed the early risky stages, allowing them to experiment cautiously.

Yet, despite the excitement, Milo couldn’t bring himself to be reckless.

After all, the child she carried was his.

While he often joked that "others’ cars could be pushed to their limits," with his own car—especially a pregnant one—he found himself overly cautious.

A week of tense, restrained passion left him unsatisfied. Balancing Monica’s emotional needs while resisting the urge to call upon his broader "harem," Milo had finally flown to Los Angeles.

There, Charlize, though momentarily hesitant, soon bore the brunt of his pent-up energy.

---

The next morning, Charlize awoke with sore limbs, gazing at the sunlight streaming through white curtains. Despite her exhaustion, a mischievous smile curled her lips. "Like a bull," she muttered playfully.

She groaned softly as she slipped out of bed, wrapped herself in a silk robe, and padded to the wardrobe. Selecting a casual sundress, she headed to the bathroom to draw a bath.

Meanwhile, Milo—shirtless and clad only in beach shorts—was brewing coffee in the kitchen.

A Bluetooth earpiece clipped to his ear, he conducted a phone meeting with his staff while waiting for the coffee to brew.

By 1997, Bluetooth technology had begun its ascent, evolving from a concept proposed by Ericsson in 1995 to a formalized protocol alliance.

Future devices using Bluetooth would all need to pay royalties to the Bluetooth Alliance.

Every year, the Bluetooth Alliance collects fees, and after deducting operational and development costs, the remaining funds are distributed among its members.

This is, in fact, a common practice for most patent pool alliances in the West. The concept revolves around technological monopolization, similar to setting up toll booths on highways and roads.

Many years later, under sanctions, Huawei developed an alternative called "Green Tooth," later renamed the Star Flash Alliance, in an attempt to break the monopoly held by the Bluetooth Alliance, which was formed by Agere, Ericsson, IBM, and more than twenty other Western companies.

However, in 1997, the Bluetooth Alliance had only recently been established.

Yahoo, under Milo’s leadership, leveraged its dominance in the Internet space to secure a spot within this alliance. For example, the Bluetooth earbud Milo was wearing was developed by an electronics company that had previously created USB flash drives under his guidance.

At this stage, however, it was still a lab product, much like the flash drives two years prior. While the product wasn’t commercially available yet, Milo, as the big boss, was already using it privately.

“Since Yahoo has decided to go public after Christmas, we must immediately launch the corresponding pre-IPO activities. Roadshows, TV ads—get everything rolling. Didn’t you boast about breaking 100 million daily active users this year? Let’s make it clear to global investors that Yahoo is the true leader in the Internet industry!”

“Don’t worry, boss. We’ve already signed strategic partnership agreements with Microsoft, Cisco, Oracle, and other companies. We’ll be ramping up promotion for Yahoo, and our event plans are ready to sync with the IPO timeline.”

“Also, boss, Microsoft has expressed interest in investing in us. They’re willing to pay $5 billion for a 5% stake. How should we respond?”

Hearing this report, Milo paused briefly.

On one hand, he was just gearing up to counter Microsoft’s copying tactics by supporting Jobs’ Apple and other operating system developers. On the other hand, Microsoft’s move caught him off guard.

It’s undeniable that Bill Gates is a sharp operator, well-connected and resourceful.

“Alright, let’s address this matter objectively,” Milo said with a smile. “After all, I already own some Microsoft stock. If Microsoft thrives, I’ll benefit as well.”

After a brief moment of thought, Milo added, “A $100 billion valuation is fairly reasonable and timely. We can explore negotiations, but I won’t offer them a 5% stake. Release a statement: Yahoo will conduct its final pre-IPO funding round at a $150 billion valuation. I’ll offer 15% of the company’s shares as leverage, and an additional 2% will be set aside for internal employee stock incentives.”

“Thank you for your generosity, boss! I’m sure everyone will be thrilled to hear this…”

Milo smiled as he listened to the flurry of compliments, pouring coffee into two porcelain cups. Adding milk and sugar, he remarked, “I’ve said it before: I’m not a stingy boss. Your hard work and dedication deserve to be rewarded. Yahoo will only grow stronger, and I hope we can all witness it becoming the greatest company in the world!”

Listening to Elon Musk’s slightly trembling voice due to excitement, Milo couldn’t help but chuckle. Nearly every influential group and the American public were fixated on Yahoo, the Internet darling hyped by the media.

Since last year’s funding round, Yahoo hadn’t shown any intent to raise further capital.

This approach had begun to hinder its development, as America isn’t limited to just the Boston, California, Morgan, and Rockefeller financial groups. Other stakeholders, like First Citigroup and Mellon, also wanted a piece of the action.

Would investment firms under congressmen, the Pentagon, or other mid-to-upper Wall Street entities not be interested? Of course, they were.

But with the major financial groups dominating the front lines, many backdoor tactics couldn’t be used. That didn’t mean others lacked ways to obstruct Yahoo’s progress.

Everyone was waiting for Yahoo to loosen its funding criteria to facilitate its IPO and share in its success.

To ensure collaboration, Milo decided to leave some room for others to benefit. By allowing more stakeholders to partake in Yahoo’s success, they could collectively push its stock price higher during the IPO and bring the Internet boom in America to its peak.

Now, with three months remaining until the IPO, Milo saw this final funding round as an ideal time.

First, Yahoo had grown to a point where it struggled to rely solely on its own resources and previous funding. With so many people seeing the Internet’s profitability, hot money was pouring in. Yahoo, despite its first-mover advantage and technical edge, couldn’t withstand the competition indefinitely.

Second, bringing in more capital would strengthen alliances and suppress competitors.

Finally, offering stock incentives would attract and retain top talent. Without such incentives, no American industry could hold onto its best employees.

That said, Yahoo wasn’t the only company under Milo’s umbrella. Many of his Internet ventures wouldn’t begin fundraising just yet.

For example, ITK and eBay weren’t ready. Milo wouldn’t budge until their valuations reached a certain level.

After the meeting, Milo carried two cups of coffee upstairs, pondering his next moves.

eBay, in particular, was shaping up to be a money-burning behemoth. Initially, Milo had acquired it as a money-making venture. He spared no expense on promotions, knowing that building its reputation was key to attracting investors.

For an online shopping platform like eBay, the technical barriers weren’t particularly high. Success depended on first-mover advantage and customer trust.

Milo wanted to experiment by turning eBay into a hybrid of online and offline commerce. Think of it as a mix between Amazon and JD.com from a parallel universe, but with a stronger offline presence.

This strategy had its pros and cons.

On the plus side, offline supermarkets could double as logistics hubs and regional dispatch centers for the online platform. Moreover, with the large workforce required by retail businesses, eBay could create numerous jobs. This, in turn, could influence and sway local elections.

In essence, Milo wasn’t just chasing profits—he was building influence and leveraging electoral power.

These were the advantages.

*Downsides, of course, exist—and there are plenty.*

Why didn’t later companies like Amazon and JD.com follow what Milo envisioned?

The biggest reason is that it’s incredibly challenging.

Running a massive retail enterprise alone is already mind-bogglingly difficult.

Milo wanted to operate both online and offline at an equally massive scale, and just the management complexity alone could surpass many traditional difficulties.

Under normal circumstances, a single Walmart store typically employs 80 to 90 full-time staff, around 20 part-time staff, about 10 department managers, three assistant managers, and one general manager.

Altogether, that’s around 100 to 150 people.

If you add the workload of an online platform, considering American work efficiency, you’d probably need to multiply the number of employees by 2.5 instead of 2.

This would mean about 200 to 300 employees per store. The management complexity and payroll pressure would be astronomical.

That said, the payoff could be monumental if it worked.

Just imagining a fusion of Amazon and Walmart gives you an idea of what an unprecedented behemoth that would be.

This is why Milo, despite knowing the immense challenges, still wanted to give it a shot.

At worst, if it failed, he could just split the operations and let online and offline function independently.

Thinking along those lines, he arrived at his bedroom door.

When he opened the door, Milo saw Charlize sitting at the vanity, dressed in nothing but a black spaghetti-strap dress, doing her makeup.

Smiling, he walked over, set the coffee cup on the table, gently stroked her shoulder and soft neck, and said, looking at her glowing face in the mirror:

"You truly are a stunning, radiant South African diamond."

"Thank you!" Charlize gracefully accepted Milo’s compliment.

She didn’t resist as Milo’s hand lingered; as his lover, she naturally understood his tendencies.

She had an event later in the afternoon, and she didn’t want to provoke this mischievous man into exhausting her further.

As Milo’s touch grew bolder, Charlize began to feel uneasy.

To divert his attention, the South African beauty spoke up, "Darling, can you stay in California a bit longer this time? Or will it be like before—leaving by early next year?"

"Not this year." Milo walked with her downstairs toward the dining room. "In a week, I have to head to Asia."

"Asia? Japan and Korea?" Charlize asked curiously.

She knew Milo had a lover in Japan—local, with a child together.

"No, not Japan this time. Even if I go, it’ll just be a quick stop."

Milo shook his head. "This trip to Asia is for China’s national celebration. I’ll be going with my grandfather."

"Oh, I see!" Charlize nodded, heading toward the dining room.

It was only then she was reminded that Milo, who had tied her down with a legal contract, was more than just a billionaire.

He was an influential figure at the pinnacle of American society—a man whose family wielded significant power in Washington.

"After the trip to China, I’ll need to go to Europe as well. I might stay there longer," Milo said as they sat at the dining table.

"Not sure if I’ll make it back before Halloween, but I’ll definitely be back in California before Christmas."

Charlize felt a bit disappointed. Milo’s packed schedule meant they wouldn’t have much time together.

But that wasn’t unusual.

She reminded herself, after all, that she was just one of his many lovers.

A contract lover, nothing more.

---

*Afternoon.*

Milo Blackburn was finally spotted by the media after being off the grid for two days.

He appeared at the West Coast headquarters of Paladin Media.

As a massive media conglomerate, Paladin Media was designed to function with two headquarters.

The Los Angeles headquarters focused on business in the western and central U.S. as well as Asia.

The East Coast headquarters in New York handled business in the eastern and southern U.S., parts of the north, and Europe.

Though partially independent, the two were interlinked—a form of "double insurance" Milo had devised for himself.

It was the same building, a modest office directly facing the Hollywood sign.

Sitting in his executive chair, Milo sipped coffee while reviewing some recently faxed design renderings.

These were the final designs for the West Coast headquarters, selected after three rounds of deliberation.

Since land in New York was exorbitantly expensive, many of Paladin Media’s operations—especially those requiring extensive space, like large indoor studios, props, and special effects—were based at the West Coast headquarters.

California, often seen as "America’s countryside," made more economic sense for such facilities.

Milo planned to build a large, integrated headquarters not just for administrative purposes but as a multifunctional hub.

Among the four proposed designs, Milo immediately pulled out two.

One was a "green terraced" design, which aligned well with the West’s environmental ideals and could lower construction costs when built on slopes.

The other was simple and striking—a replica of the Pentagon in Virginia. However, the design came with a twist: instead of a five-point star, it featured a six-pointed star…

"Seriously, the influence of certain groups in the media industry is everywhere!" Milo couldn’t help but scoff.

He dismissed the six-pointed star design. The political implications were too heavy.

It might not be an issue now, but future controversies could drag Paladin Media into the fray.

Besides, Milo prided himself on maintaining a neutral political stance.

Building a headquarters with such a symbolic shape wouldn’t fool anyone into believing his neutrality.

Although the six-pointed star design offered practical advantages for spatial layout—hence the Pentagon’s similar shape—it was a risk Milo wasn’t willing to take.

With the other two designs being uninspiring, Milo decided to go with the green terraced concept.

The last thing he wanted was to end up with a Hollywood version of the Pentagon, only to risk being "accidentally" targeted like it was September 11, 2001.

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 230: Illuminati?*

Worrying about 9/11 is actually a bit premature.

Even if the original timeline remains unchanged, it’s still four years away.

And with his presence as the butterfly causing ripples, the future might not necessarily include 9/11—or at least, it might not happen on September 11.

Sure, 9/11 holds a certain significance in the U.S. because it’s the emergency and fire services number.

But whether it’s 9/10, 9/12, or some other date, it wouldn’t make much difference.

It could even happen a year or two earlier or later.

The point is, it’s highly likely something similar will occur. Even if it’s not an attack on buildings, it will be something else that threatens American security.

Why? Because certain people need Americans to feel unsafe.

And what do Americans do when they feel unsafe?

They eliminate the source of their insecurity from this world.

This is hard to change because it represents the collective will of multiple domestic interest groups in the U.S.

No September 11? Then it could be August 11 or October 11.

For now, Milo needs to focus on the present. He currently has a somewhat tricky—but not entirely unmanageable—situation to deal with.

“I need an explanation, Mike.”

Milo sat on the couch, his hands clasped in front of him, calmly watching Michael Ovitz pace back and forth in the room.

Michael Ovitz, the former president of Disney, had been Milo’s main point of contact during his collaboration with Disney.

However, two years into his tenure, Michael Ovitz was fired by another Michael earlier this year.

Soon after, this Hollywood powerhouse—formerly the head and founder of CAA (Creative Artists Agency)—was recruited by Milo to serve as CEO of Robin Talent Agency.

Due to U.S. antitrust laws, media conglomerates, particularly movie studios, are not allowed to operate theaters, talent agencies, and film production simultaneously.

Simply put, a company can only choose one of these three industries.

Paladin Media Group, of course, chose film production, given it owned Paladin Films and later Universal Pictures.

But it was obvious that running theaters and talent agencies was both lucrative and had a significant impact on film production.

Independent studios avoiding these areas made sense—they lacked the capital and feared retaliation from the giants.

However, media conglomerates behind Hollywood’s major studios all found indirect ways to engage in theater operations and talent management.

Take Viacom & Columbia Broadcasting System (CBS) Group, for example.

Sumner Redstone, the savvy mogul, got his start in the theater business, and a significant portion of his profits still came from it.

There was no way he’d abandon the theater business, yet he managed to successfully enter Hollywood.

Thus, even decades after Roosevelt’s era, this restriction in the U.S. media industry had become practically meaningless.

Powerful, well-connected entities with deep pockets never took this ban seriously.

They simply shuffled their shares around enough times to make it legally challenging for anyone to point fingers.

For instance, the Robin Talent Agency appeared on paper as a company independent of the Paladin Media Group.

Its investors and majority shareholder were listed as Robin Blackburn, Milo’s wife, with no direct ownership linking Milo Blackburn.

Even the company’s name was "Robin," not "Paladin."

Legally speaking, any lawsuit would drag on indefinitely.

Michael Ovitz, a giant in the talent management industry, had taken the CEO role at Robin Talent Agency after being ousted from Disney.

Milo himself had personally approached him. After all, Ovitz was practically a Hollywood institution.

Even without his previous clout at CAA and Disney, no one on Earth understood Hollywood and its stars better than Michael Ovitz.

At this moment, however, Michael Ovitz was facing some tough questions from his boss.

“I’ve already explained, this kind of poaching is quite common. Talent agencies do this to each other all the time,” Ovitz said, shrugging.

“But Kason Jack Jones is one of our best agents. If he were making moves, you should’ve noticed,” Milo replied calmly.

“Yes, I know, but you also know, boss, that people make mistakes. And they were very discreet about it. If Raul in HR hadn’t spotted some subtle clues, we might not have noticed until he officially resigned,” Ovitz explained defensively.

“Alright, Mike,” Milo stood up, “you know I brought you in as CEO not because I care about how well you decorate your office or how much money you spend, but because I expect you to manage this company well. And, to be fair, you’ve done a great job. The rapid growth of the agency is largely thanks to you. But that doesn’t excuse you from taking responsibility.”

He walked over to Ovitz, hands clasped behind his back.

“While it’s true Kason betrayed the company first, you also bear responsibility. Otherwise, you wouldn’t need my help to deal with this. The problem is, I can handle it this time. But what about next time? Will you rely on me again? Or are you telling me the passion you promised to reignite when you took this job has already burned out?”

Ovitz remained silent for a moment before pinching the bridge of his nose. “Alright, I apologize. I admit I’ve been… I’ll take responsibility.”

A faint smile appeared on Milo’s lips as he lightly patted Ovitz on the shoulder.

“Don’t lose heart, Mike. I want you to know I value you. As I’ve said before, the company’s explosive growth under your leadership is your achievement. I just don’t want you to get complacent with what we’ve accomplished so far. Remember, we’ve still got a long way to go.”

“I know,” Ovitz laughed, his mood visibly lifting. “Don’t worry about me, boss. I’ve been through plenty.”

“Good. Then I’ll deal with this matter promptly,” Milo nodded.

“Alright.” Ovitz exhaled in relief.

“This is a good opportunity, isn’t it?” Milo said with a slight smile.

Michael Ovitz was indeed a master at running a talent agency.

Although in Milo’s memory, the agency Ovitz founded after leaving Disney eventually faded into obscurity, it wasn’t due to personal failings.

By the late ’90s and early 2000s, opportunities weren’t as abundant as they had been in the ’70s.

The market was already saturated, and carving out a path with personal ability alone was no easy task.

As the old Chinese saying goes, “It’s fate, not a fault of one’s own.”

But things were different now. With Milo’s full support—especially his sharp eye for talent—Robin Talent Agency was able to recruit a large number of up-and-coming stars, allowing Ovitz to fully utilize his expertise.

For example, during his tenure as CEO of CAA, Ovitz was famous for bundling deals.

If a film studio wanted to work with one of CAA’s actors or directors, they also had to accept other recommended personnel.

Many studios were unhappy about this, and producers complained that it increased production costs, but they had no choice but to comply.

At Robin, however, Ovitz’s methods became more flexible and adaptable.

While he still adhered to the bundling strategy, it now carried far less coercion.

**Do you not need this screenwriter?

Don’t want that lighting technician?**

No problem, we can negotiate everything!

Although Ovitz enjoys a luxurious lifestyle, he is extremely pragmatic when it comes to work.

Don’t be fooled by the fact that the company’s roster of talent barely exceeds 100; its influence has already risen to rival only CAA and WMA.

A significant portion of this success is thanks to Ovitz, which is why Milo's lecture wasn’t really about assigning blame but more about asserting authority.

Setting aside personal interests, Milo could understand Ovitz’s feelings.

Previously, Ovitz was the CEO of Disney, though he lasted just over a year before being ousted by Eisner.

Earlier in his career, he and his friends built an agency from scratch that surpassed WMA in influence, making him a dominant figure in Hollywood. His pride runs deep.

Even though he accepted Milo’s invitation and was genuinely intrigued by the idea of rebuilding his legacy, it’s natural for someone like him to occasionally act his age and rely on his past achievements.

Moreover, the talent agency operates independently of Paladin Media Group.

From a legal standpoint, there are no issues, which means Ovitz often enjoys unilateral decision-making power.

As a result, he doesn’t necessarily view Milo and the others as equals.

But Milo isn’t someone who can be evaluated by conventional standards. His personal achievements and Paladin Media’s meteoric rise have consistently exceeded everyone’s expectations.

After acquiring Universal, Paladin Media surpassed Time Warner and Disney, skyrocketing into the ranks of supermedia conglomerates capable of standing toe-to-toe with News Corp, Viacom, and Bertelsmann!

Ovitz couldn’t help but feel the disparity. While being the CEO of a renowned talent agency is glamorous, true power to shape the entertainment industry lies in the hands of the leaders of these supermedia conglomerates.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have left CAA for Disney in the first place.

This is why Milo suggested that the recent poaching incident could be turned into an opportunity.

Milo wanted to use this chance to deter other agencies eyeing Robin Agency’s talent.

Poaching is common among talent agencies.

Even CAA, despite its many benefits and strict agreements for its agents, can’t avoid it entirely.

When Ovitz and his friends left CAA, they took several key agents with them.

In fact, after joining Robin, Ovitz himself poached a renowned agent, Tracy Jacobs, from CAA. Such incidents are not rare.

The problem this time was that the situation had been handled carelessly.

Had someone not intervened midway, Jason might have handed the company’s client list over to WMA...

And the poacher was none other than WMA—the William Morris Agency.

Founded in the late 19th and early 20th century, it remains one of Hollywood’s largest talent agencies, despite losing some influence to CAA over the years.

Client lists are extremely important for talent agencies, especially detailed ones.

If a competitor obtains such a list, they can use targeted measures to lure clients away.

Jason Jack Jones was currently one of Robin’s top agents.

If he had been secretly poached, the company would have suffered significant losses.

Thus, retribution was necessary, and it had to be swift and decisive.

Failure to act would invite more challenges and further diminish their authority.

For this reason, Ovitz wanted Milo to intervene.

Ovitz’s idea was straightforward: He wanted Milo to use his influence to persuade the stars Jason represented to terminate their contracts with him.

It must be said that Ovitz’s plan was highly feasible in Hollywood.

Robin Agency is currently renowned for its high-end services and manages a significant number of major stars.

From Tommy Lee Jones to Nicolas Cage, Catherine Zeta-Jones to Sophie Marceau, as well as several rising stars from the 1990s.

But the most notable figure isn’t even a celebrity; it’s Milo Blackburn—a Hollywood director and producer who shines brighter than any star.

If Milo were willing to step in, it would undoubtedly have an impact.

Given his status in the media industry, among the elite, and as part of America’s upper echelon, no celebrity would dare to take the risk of defying him.

Most people assumed that someone of Milo’s stature wouldn’t concern himself with such matters.

However, Milo happened to visit Robin Agency that day, and Michael Ovitz seized the opportunity to inform him of the situation.

Perhaps Ovitz thought leveraging the “big boss” would intimidate all of Hollywood.

And so, the next day...

When Michael Ovitz, all smiles, was chatting with Will Smith and Puff Daddy (who had just won a Grammy for “Best Rap Album” with his debut studio album), trying to bring them into Robin Agency,

An assistant suddenly rushed over, leaned close, and whispered, “Boss, Jason is dead.”

“What? What?!”

Michael Ovitz was momentarily dumbfounded and stared at the assistant. “What did you say? Who’s dead? Jason? Jason who? Oh, oh, oh!”

Realization dawned on Ovitz, and he was instantly alarmed.

Ignoring the presence of the two Black superstars, he asked again, “Are you sure? Jason—Jason Jack Jones is dead?”

The assistant gave a wry smile. The boss’s reaction was too conspicuous, drawing the attention of both Black stars.

Ovitz noticed their curiosity but regretted his outburst too late. Celebrities, especially famous ones, can be unpredictable.

But Ovitz quickly figured out how to handle the situation.

“Jason Jack Jones,” Ovitz said, smiling at the two stars, “Nicolas Cage’s agent. Oh, and also Jay-Z’s agent. He was originally from CAA and joined Robin earlier this year. But a few days ago, he resigned.”

Jason Jack Jones was not a nobody in the industry.

While Puff Daddy didn’t recognize the name, Will Smith did.

Will Smith also caught the key detail in Ovitz’s words: Jason had just resigned from Robin a few days ago and then suddenly died today.

Will Smith was certain there had to be a connection.

As a result, his attitude toward Ovitz softened during their conversation, and both he and Puff Daddy expressed interest in joining Robin Agency.

Gone were their earlier demands and haughty demeanor.

After separating, P. Diddy couldn’t help but glance at Will Smith.

“Will, why did you suddenly turn so soft? Just a moment ago, you wouldn’t even let me talk.”

“Casey Jack Jones is dead,” Will Smith said.

The two were driving a sports car, heading to Will Smith’s villa in Beverly Hills.

“Dead is dead. In Los Angeles alone, hundreds of people die every day. What’s the big deal about one person dying?”

“But Casey Jack Jones was a white man, and not just any white man—he was an oil tycoon and a famous talent agent. He wanted to leave Ovitz’s company, and now he’s dead.”

P. Diddy scoffed. “What’s so special about a white man? Or a talent agent? Don’t forget, last year we even got rid of—”

“Shut up! Sean, do you think that’s something you should be saying?” Will Smith scolded him.

P. Diddy was furious, but he remembered that Will Smith held a higher status in their inner circle.

He relented. “Just say it, Will. What are you really trying to get at?”

“I’m saying we should join the Robin Agency.”

“Why? Because a talent agent who wanted to leave them ended up dead?”

“That’s part of it. But more importantly, the real boss behind the Robin Agency is Milo Blackburn! Do you know what that means?”

P. Diddy looked at Will Smith, who was driving, and shook his head.

“F*** you, you idiot! It means we need sacrifices, rituals, and even if we give it our all, we might not make it into the Illuminati. But if Milo Blackburn just nods, those people will kneel and welcome him in!”

P. Diddy fell silent.

The word "Illuminati" alone made the Black hip-hop star’s throat itch and his body ache with an imaginary pain.

But truth be told, he had really experienced it before.

“You’re saying if we join the Robin Agency, Milo Blackburn will have our backs?”

P. Diddy asked uncertainly, “But doesn’t the Robin Agency have a lot of artists? Not many of them seem to have made it into the Illuminati.”

“Phew…”

Will Smith exhaled and slowed the car as his villa came into view.

“Joining doesn’t guarantee the Illuminati will accept us immediately, but it increases our chances. Understand? Never mind, you don’t get it. Just listen to me—it's just switching to another agency.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll follow your lead,” P. Diddy nodded, then added his condition. “But tonight, I want to sleep with Jada.”

“F*** you!” Will Smith pulled into the garage and waited for P. Diddy to get out. “Remember not to use too much of the drug. If she wakes up dizzy in the morning, she might suspect something!”

“Okay, okay!”

“…”

Milo had no idea that these chaotic Black men had suddenly decided that joining his agency might improve their odds of joining the Illuminati.

At the moment, after dealing with a small issue, Milo was at Los Angeles International Airport, preparing to fly to Tokyo, Japan.

But even if he knew, Milo probably wouldn’t care.

Because if he really cared, he might have to line up all the Hollywood actors above the third tier and execute them all—yet some innocent ones might still get caught up in it.

Or, if he executed every other one, there would still be some who slipped through.

This was Hollywood: a true cesspool, a place where anyone with basic human decency couldn’t survive.

Even Milo could only ensure that his small sphere under his influence remained pure.

As for the rest, he couldn’t care less.

As long as they made him money, that was all that mattered.

*September 25, 1997.*

Around 5 PM Tokyo time.

Milo’s airborne palace landed gently on a private tarmac at Haneda Airport.

When the engine noise subsided, a few minutes later, two tall bodyguards in black suits appeared on the plane's stairs.

After receiving a safety signal from below, they stepped aside.

Milo appeared at the cabin door, waving at Junko Sumitomo below while smiling and descending the stairs.

Junko Sumitomo, president of Sumitomo Entertainment Group and a member of the Sumitomo family, was holding a baby boy—whose English name was Andy Blackburn and Japanese name was Taro Sumitomo—with a radiant smile as she welcomed her American lover.

“It’s a bit cold. You shouldn’t have brought Andy out,” Milo said, taking the baby from her arms and shaking his head in mild criticism.

“It’s not that cold yet,” Junko replied submissively, though she explained, “I brought him out to welcome his father. A little chill is worth it.”

Milo smiled and glanced down at his biracial son.

The little boy, almost six months old, seemed to have won the genetic lottery.

With delicate features, bright eyes that seemed to speak, and soft, slightly curly dark hair glistening in the sunlight, he was destined to grow into a handsome young man.

Perhaps sensing a blood connection, the baby beamed up at his father, melting Milo’s heart even more.

“Let’s go,” Milo said, holding his son in one arm and taking Junko’s hand with the other. “We’ll talk at home.”

“Okay,” Junko agreed meekly.

She bore no resemblance to the ruthless iron queen she had been over the past year in Japan’s entertainment and media industries.

It was like how Japan’s prime ministers, upon assuming office, didn’t first meet their departments to implement policies but instead rushed to Washington to bow to the current U.S. President.

In this, Japan was even more compliant than South Korea.

Junko, like her nation, understood who their real master and protector was.

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