219-220

Chapter 219: Milo's Dark Humor

A lavish party, rivaling the grandeur of an Oscars afterparty, dominated the entertainment headlines of every media outlet the next day. Celebrities, socialites, exquisite cuisine, and fine wines—everything about the event became hot news.

In the morning, Milo leisurely enjoyed his breakfast while flipping through the newspapers.

Every entertainment section seemed to be flooded with coverage of his soirée from the night before.

Even the Wall Street Journal, a serious financial publication, took an unexpected detour, perhaps to boost sales or grab attention, by reporting on the Miami event from a financial perspective.

Everything appeared to be perfect.

“Let Kenny and David in,” Milo instructed, placing an exaggeratedly headlined copy of the New York Post aside.

He turned to Mrs. Solly, who was assisting him during breakfast. She smiled warmly, nodded, and left the room. Shortly afterward, Kenny and David entered.

“Have you had breakfast?” Milo asked, wiping his mouth with a warm towel prepared in advance.

Both men assured him that they had already eaten.

“Alright, let’s hear it,” Milo said as he picked up his knife and fork, starting to cut into his steak, which was prepared from a Longhorn calf.

While Angus beef is the most common breed in America, Texas Longhorn beef is renowned for its unique flavor and lean, athletic qualities.

Blackburn Capital Investment Holdings’ agricultural division owned over 1.3 million acres of land across the U.S., including prime locations in Texas—home to Milo’s maternal family.

Even the Longhorn beef Milo was eating had been freshly slaughtered that morning in Texas and flown in while he was still asleep.

The fresh slaughter, coupled with time spent during transport for natural tenderizing, and the masterful preparation by a grill chef, made it the perfect moment to savor the beef. Juicy and tender, it was flavorful without being overly fatty, and soft yet not sticky to the bite.

“We’ve got eleven of our people injured, no fatalities,” Kenny began his report softly and quickly.

“Three from New York were killed, and twenty-five others were injured. They left on a boat last night and should have reached New York by now.

"One FBI agent died in the line of duty. Local police suffered more casualties, but they aren’t giving us precise numbers.”

“And those cockroaches?” Milo asked.

“All 165 people on the target list were killed,” Kenny replied with a shrug. “But the actual number is likely higher. Later in the night, infighting broke out among them, causing more chaos. Most of the local police casualties stemmed from this. Rough estimates suggest over 300 deaths on their side last night.”

“Only 300?” Milo sounded slightly dissatisfied, though it was clear he had already enjoyed the aftermath.

“Forget it. Call me merciful. Pull our people back and let the Mexican and Garry McCarthy clean up the mess. After all, I’ve given them plenty of perks,” Milo said dismissively.

Kenny nodded silently.

Milo continued eating, though his attention wasn’t on the delectable Longhorn steak. His mind was focused on the potential ripple effects of last night’s events.

On the surface, the chaos in Miami seemed like Milo had gone on another rampage.

All because a few people trespassed on his territory, attempting to uncover his secrets.

When the masterminds behind them refused to reveal themselves, Milo retaliated with a massacre—a response so brutal and capricious it left others fearful.

But this was precisely the impression Milo wanted to create.

Being ruthless and unpredictable served as his camouflage.

Unlike traditional old-money families who relied on negotiation and exchanges of interest to resolve most issues, Milo’s approach was more direct.

Anyone targeting him should prepare for severe consequences unless they could eliminate him in one swift strike. Otherwise, there would always be retaliation—both violent and financially shrewd.

Why else would he maintain such a large security company?

As for the local response...

The local big shots likely viewed his actions as immature.

After all, killing off the scum wouldn’t change the situation.

Take out John today, and Jack will show up tomorrow.

Eliminate Jack the day after, and Jones will rise the next.

Without changing the broader environment, killing anyone was merely venting.

And venting was precisely what Milo wanted. He never intended to completely alienate the locals.

America’s regional power brokers were no joke.

If pushed too far while on their turf, even the President of the United States might find it difficult to leave unscathed.

Short of deploying federal troops to wage war against the local National Guard, such a scenario would only lead to the mutual suppression of both parties by other regional powers.

Milo understood this well.

So, he settled for killing a few “chickens” to warn the mid-level “monkeys,” avoiding the wrath of the “tigers” at the top.

Milo felt he had struck the right balance.

The most important thing? He had enjoyed himself.

The local chaos? Not his problem.

The thought brought him even more delight.

Later that morning, after breakfast, Milo visited the Trump International Golf Club in West Palm Beach.

Today’s guests weren’t Garry McCarthy but rather William Hearst, Si Newhouse, and their companions.

William Hearst even brought along his daughter and niece.+

Since last night, Amanda Hearst and Lydia Hearst are no longer staying at Mar-a-Lago.

Sidney Newhouse is outside, accompanied by his capable assistant and lover, Anna Wintour.

Yes, that Anna Wintour, the legendary “Devil Wears Prada” figure and editor-in-chief of Vogue America.

“...What? You want your modeling agency to perform at the Super Bowl?”

Sidney Newhouse exclaimed, “Would Paul Tagliabue agree to this?”

Paul Tagliabue, who became the NFL Commissioner in 1989, is akin to David Stern of the NBA.

“It took a lot of effort, but the league has agreed. By early next year, Victoria’s Secret will undoubtedly reach a new milestone in its development,” Milo said, unable to suppress a smile.

The Super Bowl, as the championship of American football, consistently boasts the highest viewership ratings in the U.S.

Fans of American football, if unable to attend in person, will inevitably tune in to watch on TV that day.

The popularity of the Super Bowl is unparalleled.

For a performer, appearing at the Super Bowl is a surefire way to significantly boost fame and popularity.

Many music legends, such as Michael Jackson and Madonna, have performed there.

For Victoria’s Secret, putting on a stunning runway show at the Super Bowl is the perfect way to elevate their brand to the next level.

The executives at Victoria’s Secret are exceptionally talented. After being acquired by Paladin Media, they immediately began collaborating with the parent company.

With five supermodels as its cornerstone and continuous recruitment of exclusive models, the lingerie brand is thriving in this timeline compared to its counterpart in another.

Although Milo hasn’t focused much energy on this, nor is he particularly knowledgeable about it, being surrounded by Victoria’s Secret supermodels in Miami recently has piqued his interest.

Over time, with emotions developing and some pillow talk in the mix, he has started paying more attention to their needs.

Additionally, Victoria’s Secret is crucial to Paladin Media's expansion into the luxury goods market.

“For Victoria’s Secret, this marks a new beginning,” Milo said as he took the golf club handed to him by the caddie.

Under the watchful eyes of Newhouse, the Hearsts, and the host, Kemp, Milo walked up to the golf ball.

Smack!  

The crisp sound of the swing echoed as the golf ball soared into the air, drawing a beautiful arc before landing on the far side of the lake.

According to the rules, they now had to head over there to continue the game.

Since it wasn’t far, the group decided to walk instead of taking the golf cart.

Behind them, the women who accompanied the four men walked together, chatting amiably as if they were lifelong friends.

They, too, had dressed in golf attire matching the men’s, but with a clear emphasis on style over comfort.

Their outfits were impeccably tailored to highlight their elegant figures.

With golf hats perched lightly on their heads, the women exuded both grace and charm.

Ivanka, Amanda, and Lydia, three young socialites, clustered around Anna Wintour, who was evidently their idol in the fashion world.

“An excellent idea. No, I should say it’s highly feasible,” William Hearst said, clearly intrigued. Milo Blackburn had just described an entirely new and highly viable concept—a luxury goods alliance that, if successful, would generate substantial profits for its participants.

“With Newhouse, Hearst, and my Paladin Media, we can cover the entire media ecosystem, from the grassroots to the elite,” Milo said, resting the golf club on his shoulder. He didn’t seem to care whether his casual posture might damage the $10,000 club.

“From models to fashion editors to influence in the fashion industry, we have it all,” he continued, glancing at Hearst and Newhouse.

“The only thing we’re missing is a luxury brand with a compelling story.”

“Well…” Hearst and Sidney Newhouse exchanged a glance before turning to Milo. “Dear Milo, do you have a target in mind?”

“Gucci Group,” Milo replied.

In 1922, a young, ambitious Italian opened a small shop in Florence selling leather goods. Before this, he worked as a porter at London’s Savoy Hotel, where he observed that luggage and bags were symbols of wealth and status among the elite.

Returning to Italy, he mastered the leather trade and launched a line of high-quality luggage and handbags. This young man, Guccio Gucci, founded the illustrious Gucci brand.

By the 1940s, Gucci had become a fashion icon. Anything bearing the Gucci logo was a must-have for movie stars, nobility, and even First Ladies.

However, power is fleeting.

The Gucci family’s internal strife was as brutal as the infighting within the Italian Mafia.

While most wealthy families fight over shares and inheritance, the Gucci family’s disputes were literally life-and-death battles.

Following the founder’s death in the 1970s, five family members were murdered, seven were imprisoned, and two disappeared without a trace during a 20-year feud over the company’s shares.

Ultimately, the entire Gucci family was ousted two years ago.

Today, the Gucci Group has no financial ties to the Gucci family beyond its name.

Last year, its board completed an IPO on the New York and Amsterdam Stock Exchanges and London’s SEAQ International Market.

In just a year, its stock price has soared by 323%.

“A market cap of $2.5 billion,” Sidney Newhouse mused, glancing at Milo. “With a premium, acquiring it might require around $3 billion.”

“Roughly,” Milo nodded, smiling. “My Wall Street firm has already acquired about 20% of the company’s outstanding shares. If you’re willing to join, I’d welcome your involvement. If not, it’s fine. But in that case, I’d appreciate a discount on advertising costs since we’ll have a long-term partnership ahead.”

It’s hard to imagine that in just over ten years, the global personal luxury goods market will experience such an enormous boom.

From its current annual scale of $40–50 billion, it will grow to nearly $500–600 billion annually.

Luxury conglomerates and giants, which can’t even make it into the top 100 of the Forbes Global 500 right now, will soon find themselves among the top 20.

The rankings on the wealth lists are even more dramatic—some luxury moguls will even become the richest people in the world for years.

Take Gucci Group as an example. Its current market valuation is about $2.3 billion.

But it won’t take long—within five years, its valuation will surpass $10 billion.

By 2015, after the rise of the Chinese economy, its annual profits alone will exceed $2.3 billion.

“Newhouse is willing to join,” said Si Newhouse decisively, clearly more resolute than Hearst. He made the decision immediately, saying, “Joining Miracle Blackburn’s alliance is a blessing in itself!”

The words sounded nice, but in reality, Newhouse was swayed by the complete luxury goods industry chain Milo described.

From branding to marketing, from marketing to sales, with the backing of major American financial groups, and oil tycoons cheerleading from behind—it seemed almost foolproof. Failure could only occur if there was a major economic downturn, like the Great Depression of the 1920s.

If that happened, everyone would suffer, and investing in luxury goods would make no difference.

Seeing Newhouse’s decisiveness, William Hearst sighed and then smiled. “I was thinking the same. Well then, Hearst is also willing to join.”

By this time, the men had walked past a small lake and arrived at the golf green.

“This golf club is bent,” Milo said, tossing it to David, who was filling in as caddie.

David handed him a new carbon-fiber club.

Although this material was developed in the last century, it only became available to the civilian market after research advancements in the 1960s and 1970s by the Japanese.

Due to low production and Japan’s scarcity-marketing tactics, the price was exorbitant.

Just one of these golf clubs sold for over $10,000—an incredibly steep price.

“Well then, let’s wish for a pleasant partnership!”

Milo smiled at the two men, took a light swing, and missed the hole.

“I’m done playing,” he said, tossing the club aside. He turned to the slightly amused but polite Hearst and Newhouse and said, “Let’s go inside for a drink.”

Both men agreed.

After lunch, on the way back to Mar-a-Lago, Miami’s picturesque scenery unfolded outside the car window. Under the azure sky, coconut palms swayed as sea breezes whispered. Skyscrapers and white sandy beaches complemented each other, with yachts weaving through the blue seas, creating a breathtaking tropical coastal view—a sight so stunning it swept away all worries.

As Milo pondered whether to first have fun with Giselle, the little fox, or both together for a “four-hole game,” Kenny in the passenger seat turned back.

“Boss, Line One. It’s a call from Mr. Blackburn.”

Milo casually picked up the phone and glanced at it. “Good afternoon, dear Grandpa.”

“Good afternoon, my dear Milo. Are you still in Miami?”

“Yes.”

“Notify your media group to prepare. The scandal about Zipperton’s ‘pants pocket’ is about to break.”

“Wow—” Milo withdrew his gaze from the window, showing mild surprise. “Today? Who leaked it?”

In fact, last year, someone had already wanted to expose Zipperton’s scandal.

But to secure his reelection, a more powerful force suppressed the news.

Milo had even benefited from this, as his father was appointed Secretary of Defense.

At the time, Milo knew the scandal would surface this year.

He had expected it to break by February or March.

He hadn’t anticipated it would take this long.

“Newt Gingrich.”

“The Speaker of the House?”

“Yes. Zipperton vetoed the 1997 House agricultural subsidy bill, something Newt had promised to Georgia’s farm voters. He’s been preparing for over six months, and now... well, he’s naturally striking back.”

“Who’s launching the first shot?” Milo asked curiously.

Even though it wasn’t 2024 yet, when most major U.S. media leaned toward the Democrats, Republicans had always struggled in the media arena due to their ideological differences.

“The Australians,” Grandpa Blackburn replied. “They were given some benefits, and News Corporation will lead the charge.”

“Murdoch, huh? Makes sense. Funny they didn’t approach me first.”

“They were afraid you’d refuse. Even though they gave me a party whip position, your father, Joseph, is still the Secretary of Defense.”

A party whip might seem prestigious, but it was only a third- or fourth-tier position within a party. The party leader was usually the President, the Speaker, or the national committee chairman.

Grandpa Blackburn had long since stepped back from the Republican leadership, but thanks to his influence, his family’s political power persisted.

Now, Milo, a grandson sought by both parties, had brought the family back into prominence.

“That’s fine by me. I can avoid a conflict of interest. Paladin Media’s stance, after all, is neutral,” Milo said with a smile. “Thanks for letting me know, Grandpa. I’ll have my team follow up.”

“Good. One more thing,” Grandpa said.

“What is it?”

“Your plan to buy the Iowa-class battleship.”

“How’s it going?”

“Does it have to be the USS Missouri?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s the last Iowa-class battleship to retire and the most historically significant.”

“You mean because the Japanese signed their surrender aboard it?”

“Exactly. Think about it, Grandpa.” Milo grinned, propping his feet on the footrest as he gazed at the sunlit clouds and beach. “When I sail that enormous ship, under the name of America, back into Tokyo Bay, it will be an unforgettable moment. Don’t you think?”

Grandpa Blackburn: “...”

What a peculiar sense of humor.

Though it might be challenging, Grandpa Blackburn agreed to give it another shot to indulge his grandson’s eccentric wish. After all, it wasn’t a big deal—just an old decommissioned battleship destined for a museum.

The only real issue was the cost.

But money was never a problem for Milo.

“All right, I’ll look into it again. Goodbye, my dear Milo.”

“Goodbye, Grandpa.”

---

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 220: Wrapping Up in Miami

To be honest, Milo had a certain degree of interest in his newspaper being the first to break the scandal involving Linton.

This kind of explosive exposé in the newspaper industry was akin to "raising the flag."

Raise the flag enough times, and a newspaper, magazine, or news agency would establish its authority and influence.

However, there were downsides too—namely, the likelihood of retaliation from those used as the flagpoles.

After all, the events that made it to the headlines were rarely trivial matters, and those targeted were seldom nobodies.

For someone like Linton, a top-tier Democratic bigwig, it would be abnormal not to have countermeasures.

Sure, the couple might shine brightly on television.

But behind the scenes, they were no strangers to ruthless measures.

For now, things were manageable.

But give it a few years, after their retirement, and it would be a different story.

Over a span of ten years, more than fifty of their close friends, allies, confidants, opponents, and journalists who had reported on them mysteriously passed away.

In that sense, they were no different from Detective Conan.

Conan might encounter deaths wherever he went.

This couple, on the other hand, made sure that anyone who dared to oppose them or expose their secrets—and lacked solid backing—would meet their end.

The scythe of the Grim Reaper would inevitably fall.

Anyone naïve enough to believe in the fairy tale of American press freedom was adorably misguided.

Take Jones, a journalist from the Los Angeles Times. His body was barely cold.

In 1986, he angered Linton, who was then a state governor, with his reporting.

The mainstream media quickly vilified him, leading to the forced end of his journalistic career.

By 1995, just two years ago, he died in his home in a bizarre “suicide.”

A bullet entered the back of his head and exited through his forehead—an extraordinary method of “suicide.”

And then there was John C., who reported on military scandals last year. He spent a long time in prison and, after his release, faced a total industry ban.

Such cases were far too numerous to count, and these were just the ones connected to Linton.

But do you think the United States had only the Lintons operating this way?

Think again. Corruption knows no borders.

Take Milo himself. A few years ago, he orchestrated a car accident to eliminate his brother's competitor—a remarkable feat.

And the result?

The competitor, a promising Black orator who might have become a governor or congressman, was left permanently disabled.

Now, he survives by giving motivational speeches for a bit of money, but his political dreams are shattered.

The United States once had a president in a wheelchair, so it would never allow another wheelchair-bound politician, let alone a Black one.

And even Roosevelt wasn’t in a wheelchair when he first ran for office; it wasn’t until his second term that he needed one.

All in all, the idea of American press freedom is nonsense. Most media outlets are privately owned, controlled by corporations or conglomerates.

The ultimate goal of media companies is profit maximization.

The inherent profit-driven nature of capitalism ensures that media cannot escape the constraints of corporate interests.

For instance, after Murdoch acquired The Times, he required all editorials to align with his views.

Disagree?

The editor-in-chief was promptly fired.

This wasn’t unique to Murdoch.

If Milo were in the same position, he would probably make the same choice.

Then there’s the influence of Washington—political pressure and backdoor deals that manipulate media and their owners.

Using media owners to control journalists and reports is sometimes blatant, sometimes subtle.

Milo understood all this well; after all, his reporting on this scandal wasn’t purely altruistic.

It was also for his family’s interests.

Most importantly, from his current perspective, stabbing Linton in the back was not an option.

His father had just settled into his position as Secretary of Defense. If Milo struck now, it would upset too many Democrats.

They might assume the Blackburn family was aligning with the Republicans. After all, before Joseph, the Blackburns had always been moderate Republicans.

So Milo closely monitored Washington’s reactions, spending the entire afternoon glued to the live broadcasts.

Sure enough, as soon as the scandal broke, Linton denied it.

Watching the aging philanderer with graying hair, red-faced and shouting about slander and conspiracy, Milo couldn’t help but chuckle. He knew trouble was brewing for the man.

After all, this was a country where a red couch was considered a natural accessory.

Sleeping with an intern wasn’t a big deal.

Even Milo’s father and grandfather had done similar things.

Linton’s mistake lay in lying about it.

Denying it now only set himself up for someone to expose the truth later.

If it turned out he had lied, it would be clear evidence of dishonesty.

But then again, even being caught lying wasn’t the end of the world.

As long as he clung to his position and controlled Congress to avoid impeachment, he’d survive—albeit with diminished credibility.

At worst, his approval rating would drop to 70 percent.

Still, that was manageable.

At dawn the next day, Milo carefully got out of bed, making sure not to wake Angela, his fox-like sister, and Giselle, who were sound asleep.

Those two troublemakers had been thoroughly worn out by him the previous night, not falling asleep until after 2 a.m.

In the bathroom, Milo stood under the shower, letting the water cascade over him.

Looking at his reflection in the mirror, he brushed his hair back with both hands, wiped the water from his face, and gazed at his handsome face.

With a playful smirk, he spat out a mouthful of water and flashed a self-satisfied grin.

In this life, all he wanted was to live freely and indulge to his heart’s content.

To savor every moment of life’s joys!

Or rather, to revel in unending pleasure!

*To unleash the essence of life to its fullest, experience the wonders of this vast world to the greatest extent, and let your existence shine with unparalleled brilliance—only then is the journey through this world truly worthwhile.*

---

*[The Federal Reserve announced that the economy remains solid with no risk of overheating, indicating that the market doesn’t need to tighten the dollar through rate hikes…]*

*[In July, U.S. non-farm payrolls saw an unexpected surge, exceeding forecasts significantly. This has left investors puzzled about the Federal Reserve’s policy direction, especially after the Fed indicated a shift in focus to the labor market following years of battling inflation…]*

*[In recent years, as the market has developed rapidly, visiting major theme parks has become a common choice for many American families, such as Los Angeles Disneyland, Orlando Universal Studios…]*

*[Yesterday, Paladin Media announced that filming for the adaptation of Tolkien’s epic fantasy series The Lord of the Rings had officially wrapped, and the production is now moving into the critical phase of post-production visual effects…]*

---

At the breakfast table, Milo casually flipped through freshly printed newspapers.

This had almost become part of his daily routine.

Great businessmen always manage to spot opportunities invisible to ordinary people within the information they gather daily.

It’s this very ability that allows them to earn what others can’t.

Of course, the higher one’s position in society, the higher the level of information accessible.

Consequently, the judgments made based on this information are more accurate, leading to greater profits.

While reading a Wall Street Journal report on Libya’s oil production exceeding 1 million barrels per day after resuming operations, Kenny and David walked in.

His two right-hand men approached him, with Kenny starting in a hushed tone.

“Boss, the results are in from India.”

“Oh?”

Milo put down the Wall Street Journal, looked up, and smiled at Kenny. “Well, tell me—good news or a disappointment?”

“You’d better head to the conference room. They sent back a slideshow; it’ll be more intuitive.”

“Then what are we waiting for?”

---

In the conference room, the projector flickered to life, and an image of an Indian temple resembling a Mayan pyramid appeared on the screen.

“Boss, this is the target identified after two months of investigation, based on your description and combined with local legends: the Padmanabhaswamy Temple.”

Milo squinted, rubbing his chin as he scrutinized the photos and documents projected.

Judging by these materials, it looked like an ordinary abandoned temple.

In a country like India, where religion holds an even greater sway than in the U.S., the number of such dilapidated temples was staggering.

Yet Milo was convinced this one held treasure.

Kenny and his team, naturally, were skeptical.

Milo understood their doubts.

Reality, however, is often stranger than fiction. It’s only when myths turn into facts that people believe their truth. Before the veil is lifted, myths are often dismissed as jokes.

For instance, the legend surrounding this temple sounded absurd and far-fetched.

People would immediately question: if treasure existed, how could the royal family not know about it? If it did, wouldn’t they have already claimed it? Why would it still be here?

Yet many seemingly implausible treasure legends have proven true in the end—such as the tale of Zhang Xianzhong’s sunken silver.

“Our people didn’t attract local attention, did they?” Milo asked, his tone serious.

“No, the temple is completely undefended. Those exploring it did so at night; there wasn’t even a dog, let alone patrols or security. However, there is one small complication: the temple has many devoted worshippers who visit daily, rain or shine.”

“There’s also another minor issue: a local man named Sandar Rajan, who’s an intelligence officer in India. His father was a devout follower of this temple. He’s repeatedly expressed dissatisfaction with the temple’s management, complaining about poor safety measures. He’s even threatened to take the management to court.”

Hearing this, Milo considered Sandar Rajan to be a problem that needed resolving.

“It seems Mr. Sandar Rajan has quite the affection for this temple,” Milo remarked with an ominous chuckle.

Kenny, catching his boss’s subtle yet cold expression, merely smiled and said nothing.

“Clean it up. Continue the excavation.”

Eliminating an obstacle was no burden for Milo now.

If it meant achieving his goals, even taking out the White House occupant wasn’t off the table.

---

“By the way, Boss,” Kenny added, “FBI’s Mr. McCarthy couldn’t bring himself to contact you directly. He reached out through intermediaries, saying some Miami locals hope for a chance to meet you.”

“McCarthy?” Milo raised an eyebrow. “He has my number. Why wouldn’t he… Oh, I get it.”

McCarthy was trying to arrange a meeting but didn’t want to be directly involved. This implied the individuals in question weren’t nobodies—they had some influence in McCarthy’s eyes. Yet, they weren’t significant enough for McCarthy to act on their behalf personally.

“So, let them know I’m not interested. Tell them not to disrupt me next time I’m in Miami.”

Milo had already been in Miami for a week.

Realizing he couldn’t extract much benefit from Florida’s Reciprocity Bank, nor could he gain substantial leverage over established local companies, he felt his efforts here had fallen flat.

It was disappointing but unsurprising; the real world rarely aligns perfectly with one’s expectations.

As a reborn individual and a privileged member of the elite, even Milo couldn’t always have his way.

He decided to move on.

Even the upcoming Victoria’s Secret fashion show had lost its appeal.

Having already partnered with Newhouse and Hearst families, he knew the world’s most renowned fashion figures would show up regardless of his presence.

Miami, for now, had run its course.

---

(Chapter ends)