131-135

*Chapter 131: No One Understands Better Than Me*

Outside New York City Hall, the protests continued.

Every day, two or three thousand people gathered, encircling the city hall.

However, they didn’t block roads or disrupt the lives and work of other citizens.

They simply crowded around City Hall.

It seemed as though someone was paying them to clock in and protest daily, right on time.

Rudy Giuliani and the city council were still at their wits' end.

That said, the frequent shootings over the past few days had significantly decreased after April 5th.

After all...

There weren’t that many major gang leaders left to assassinate.

On April 8th.

The weather was perfect.

The sun shone brightly over New York City, but it wasn’t too hot.

At the Trump National Golf Club in New Jersey, three figures—Donald Trump, Rupert Murdoch, and Milo—were enjoying a game of golf together.

"See, Don? I told you I’m not the only one who sucks at golf. Look at Rupert—he's even worse, ha-ha-ha!"

Milo’s hearty laughter echoed across the course.

The reason?

Rupert Murdoch had just taken a swing.

Not only was his aim atrocious, but his strength was lacking too.

Unlike Milo, whose shots, though inaccurate, were impressively powerful.

It seemed as if any swans flying overhead might be blasted down by his golf balls.

"Practice makes perfect, Rupert. If you’re willing, you can come here to practice every day. I’ll let you use the course for free," Trump said with mock seriousness.

Murdoch ignored Trump and instead turned to Milo. He couldn’t fathom why Milo valued this attention-seeking nouveau riche so highly.

"My dear Milo," Murdoch began, "if you want to influence the broadcasting industry, you don’t need to acquire TBS. You could simply invest in a few media conglomerates."

Murdoch added, "I don’t know about others, but Sumner Redstone and I would be delighted to welcome a brilliant director like you into the fold."

Murdoch was referring to the recent buzz about Milo allegedly financing a takeover of TBS—the Turner Broadcasting System.

TBS was no small fry. Besides the big three legacy networks and his own Fox Network, it was currently the fifth-largest broadcasting network in the United States.

Under its banner were several highly competitive channels, such as the NEWS channel, which held a solid footing among the White House press corps.

Compared to the other major networks, TBS primarily lacked entertainment content.

But Murdoch knew the handsome young man from Boston standing before him was not only a super-genius author and brilliant director but also a formidable writer of variety shows.

Their collaboration on American Idol had just premiered on Fox’s channels the previous day.

The viewership? Off the charts.

To put it in perspective, last year’s NBA Finals had 20.08 million viewers, and the year before that had 17.25 million viewers.

This was just the first episode.

Once American Idol gained traction, Murdoch believed the finale episodes could easily surpass 25 million viewers.

What did that mean?

The Super Bowl, often called the "American Spring Festival Gala," had 83.45 million viewers last year.

This meant American Idol could potentially achieve over 33.3% of the Super Bowl’s viewership.

Murdoch almost woke up laughing from his dreams last night.

Milo also owned a film company.

While it wasn’t on par with the Big Eight, it was no lightweight either.

If Milo successfully acquired TBS, its entertainment gap could be quickly filled.

Short-term, TBS might not rival the Big Four networks, but long-term? Murdoch couldn’t guarantee TBS wouldn’t grow to match or even surpass them.

This would add another fierce competitor to the mix.

So if possible, Murdoch would much prefer Milo invest in News Corp instead.

“Acquisition is already underway, Rupert,” Milo replied with a smile.

“Already? That fast?” Murdoch was surprised.

“Barely started. Through agents, we’ve already secured two blocks of 4.99% publicly traded shares,” Milo shrugged.

Murdoch was shocked. “Could you elaborate?”

“Sure,” Milo explained casually, “if holdings exceed 5%, we’re legally required to notify the company and the stock exchange, which would essentially tip them off that we’re buying them out.”

“By using agents to hold multiple 4.99% blocks and negotiating with independent shareholders, we can consolidate shares once we reach over 50%, then issue a formal takeover bid. Sometimes, 30% suffices.”

Murdoch interjected, “50% is safer to ensure success. My stake in News Corp exceeds 50%.”

Milo chuckled noncommittally. “Even with 30%, I could sway board votes. Plus, I can rally allies. Ted Turner isn’t without his enemies.”

Not waiting for Murdoch to respond, Milo waved his hand and said, “Relax, Rupert. Even if I acquire TBS, American Idol will remain with Fox.”

Hearing this, Murdoch maintained a composed exterior but inwardly let out a sigh of relief.

That was one of his primary concerns.

Chapter 132: The Concept of a Pan-Entertainment Media Giant

Chris Carey, a veteran media professional, once had an ambitious dream: to become the head of a prestigious large-scale newspaper group.

He aspired to lead an enterprise like Gannett Company under Al Neuharth, who spearheaded its rapid expansion. For example, USA Today, the nation’s largest-circulation daily newspaper, was a creation of Al Neuharth.

Today, Gannett owns 99 daily newspapers across 43 states, along with more than 300 weekly and semi-weekly publications, making it the leading newspaper conglomerate in the United States.

However, before Chris became part of Milo Blackburn's advisory team, he was merely a senior executive within Gannett.

A falling-out with CEO Gracia Martore, coupled with alienating the fourth-generation leadership of Gannett, led to his dismissal. After two months of unemployment, Chris joined Milo’s team.

Now, with Milo’s acquisition of U.S. News & World Report and his decision to appoint Chris as its editor-in-chief, Chris's dormant ambitions were reignited.

Milo was wealthy, capable, trusting, and ambitious—a combination that made Chris believe that establishing a strong, new media group was no longer an unattainable dream.

Chris became highly motivated at work, although he noted one peculiar trait of his boss: Milo’s Silicon Valley roots made him particularly focused on the newspaper’s website.

From the moment Milo took over the publication, he emphasized digital presence, and it became widely known within the company that the website was a top priority.

The extensive team of photographers, including five photo editors and 20 full-time photographers, rivaled even The New York Times. Freelancers were also actively submitting diverse content, capturing lively stories from cities, suburbs, and rural areas.

Milo’s philosophy was clear: prioritize photo-driven reporting with minimal text. He believed that print media’s decline was inevitable, a mere question of time.

Chris agreed with the vision but had reservations.

“Boss, I agree that print is shrinking, but print will not disappear entirely. In major events or crises, people will still trust traditional, credible newspapers over the unreliable internet.”

Milo concurred but acknowledged the harsh reality: print was on the decline, and competition within print media was brutal.

If possible, Milo's ideal scenario was to acquire one or two prominent dailies like The Los Angeles Times or The New York Times. He envisioned turning these papers’ websites into dominant digital platforms.

Chris, however, suggested a more aggressive approach: beyond acquiring large dailies, Milo should also buy regional papers with significant local influence, like St. Louis Post-Dispatch.

Though Chris admitted traditional print’s profitability was diminishing, he successfully convinced Milo by emphasizing influence over profit.

Newspapers, Chris argued, had a unique power: they could shape public opinion in ways that even the most profitable Wall Street executives could not. This resonated with Milo, whose family had deep ties to politics.

Finally, Milo agreed to Chris’s plan.

“I’ll inject $500 million into the media group,” Milo said. “Chris, I expect you to deliver a report by the year’s end that makes me proud.”

Elated, Chris promised:

“BOSS, by year’s end, Paladin Newspaper Group will be among America’s top ten newspaper groups!”

After Chris left, Milo turned his attention to U.S. News & World Report’s website. As he browsed the clean, user-friendly interface, he reflected on his larger vision.

Beyond just a news portal, Milo wanted Yahoo to evolve into a social and entertainment platform—a pan-entertainment network akin to Tencent’s empire in China. Integrating a reliable news source into Yahoo would enable a self-sustaining ecosystem, keeping users within the platform.

As Milo contemplated this, his phone buzzed. Seeing the caller ID, he smiled—it was Michael Pulitzer.

Pulitzer, previously aloof, was now desperate. Milo answered, knowing the game had shifted decisively in his favor.

After a brief exchange, Milo dropped a bombshell:

“By the way, your nephew Edward Pulitzer just signed a deal to sell me his 30% stake in Pulitzer Inc.”

On the other end, Michael Pulitzer took a deep breath, struggling to suppress his anger at his nephew's betrayal.

Milo’s voice remained calm yet commanding:

“Michael, your 23% stake is no longer essential to me. With Edward's 30%, I already have enough to take control of Pulitzer Inc.”

The conversation was over. Milo had not only won the battle but secured his place as a rising force in the media world.

(To be continued...) 

*Chapter 133: Private Armed Base*

Milo verbally expressed reluctance but was merely negotiating the price. Just as the oil barons sought to appease and ally with him in the face of his rise, Milo, even backed by the Anglo-Saxon elites, would not immediately make himself appear antagonistic to the oil magnates.

He wanted them to believe that his actions against the Pulitzer family were purely a strategic move to gain control of the Pulitzer company—a simple case of legitimate business competition. Similarly, his moves against Giuliani were portrayed not as opposition to the Republican Party or Italians but as a bid to control the New York mafia and labor unions.

Within the Anglo-Saxon elite, Milo positioned himself as an aggressive innovator, striving to expand America's influence in multiple sectors. He didn't even share this strategy with his grandfather or father; it was something he devised on his own after reflecting on his past life and the American news he had consumed before being reborn. This would make him a standout figure among the old Anglo-Saxons—a tool they could use to some extent to counter the oil magnates and other power groups. He would be seen as one of their own—a sharp-edged weapon.

However, this weapon would occasionally act unpredictably and shake up the complacent Anglo-Saxon establishment. To the oil magnates, he would appear as a promising and somewhat rebellious Anglo-Saxon figure worth courting. To other groups, he would show himself as an approachable Anglo-Saxon ally, contrasting with the disdain often shown by the old guard.

In the larger American elite, Milo would be like a catalyst—a "catfish" stirring up the upper class.

As for the general populace?

Unfortunately, the American elite seldom concern themselves with the opinions of ordinary people, much like the aristocrats of Western and Eastern Jin dynasties who disregarded the voices of commoners.

For example, in the recent spate of violence sparked by Milo's actions, hundreds of gang members and innocent bystanders died in New York over just a few days.

Did the upper echelon of New York, or even the entire United States, care? No. They merely scoffed at Milo for wasting so much money to eliminate a handful of individuals.

What an amateur.

In the end, Milo spent $150 million to acquire 23% of Pulitzer Company shares from Michael Pulitzer. This raised his total ownership to 53%, securing his control over the company. With this acquisition, the board seat at Columbia University that the Pulitzer family had controlled now belonged to Milo.

Currently, Milo Blackburn was:

The chairman of Paladin Media Group, Paladin Investment Group, United Global Corporation, among other companies.

He was also a board member of both Columbia University and Harvard University.

On top of that, Milo had become a hidden force in New York’s underworld, controlling several major unions behind the scenes.

If all these people were to gather in a hotel, one room certainly wouldn’t suffice.

At lunchtime, Milo's personal assistant, Monica, pushed open the office door with a lavish spread. The Italian beauty had no complaints about taking care of her boss, though she'd be happier if he kept his hands to himself.

"Boss... it's time for lunch."

With her face buried in Milo’s chest, Monica’s voice trembled, betraying her composed demeanor.

They had known each other for a while, and Milo had thoroughly learned her sensitive points. Monica, despite maintaining a dignified front at work, inadvertently fueled Milo's desire to tease her during office hours.

After a moment of indulgence, Milo wiped his fingers with a napkin, patted her back, and said, "Time to eat!"

“Prepare for our return to Los Angeles the day after tomorrow. We won’t be back in New York until June or July,” Milo mentioned while taking a bite of steak.

“Yes, boss,” Monica replied, her discomfort evident as she subtly shifted her legs.

Since Milo wouldn’t let her go change, she had to endure it, eating her lunch quietly despite the teasing she endured from her boss. Yet, deep down, she relished the attention and even amplified her poise at work, knowing that Milo enjoyed the contrast.

By 4:00 PM, Monica entered to remind Milo that it was time to leave for his next engagement. He saved his work, placed a USB drive into his bag, and stood up.

In this timeline, the USB flash drive had been invented by Chinese innovator Lǚ Zhèngbīn and quickly gained popularity worldwide. Though the technology itself wasn’t particularly complex—it was based on existing flash memory and USB transmission technology—Milo had been inspired to develop it after finding floppy disks inconvenient. He mentioned the idea to a Silicon Valley hardware company he had invested in, and they produced an early version of the USB drive within a few months. Mass production was expected by October.

Milo was currently using one of these prototype USB drives.

He stood up, took the suit Monica handed him, and slipped into it as she adjusted his tie.

"Tell Megan to email me tomorrow’s briefing," Milo instructed, leaning forward slightly.

“Yes, boss.” Monica’s body reacted to his closeness, and she bit her lip as his hand found its familiar place.

“...”

As Milo disappeared around the hallway corner, Monica let out a sigh of relief, grabbed her black thong from the edge of his chair, and hurried to the restroom. Finally, she could catch a small break since the next part of Milo’s itinerary didn’t involve her.

…

On the rooftop of the building, Milo stood before a Bell 214 helicopter. This model, developed by Bell Helicopter based on the military UH-1H, was a medium-sized utility helicopter with 16 seats, a range of 750 kilometers, and a top speed of 296 km/h. Milo’s modified version cost $3 million.

In addition to this helicopter, he had recently purchased a Boeing 737-500 private jet. At this point, Boeing was at its peak, staffed by highly skilled technicians and engineers aged 30 to 40, veterans of the Cold War era.

The 737-500, a narrow-body, medium-sized aircraft, was smaller in the 737 series and priced similarly to the Gulfstream IV, both around $20 million, with the Gulfstream being slightly more expensive. Milo chose the Boeing for two reasons: parts commonality across 5,000-plus units sold worldwide by 1996, ensuring cheaper maintenance and reliable performance. Additionally, Boeing could deliver within three to five months, including custom interiors, whereas a new Gulfstream IV would take over a year and a half to arrive.

A private plane and helicopter had cost Milo nearly $26 million.

He considered the 737-500 sufficient for the time being.

Boarding the helicopter, Milo closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he nodded to David and Kenny, who were unfazed by this ritual.

“Let’s go,” he said.

The interior was spacious, seating up to 12 in luxury. Everything was adorned with gold accents, from seatbacks to entertainment controls, with adjustable tinted windows—a rare feature in helicopters.

Kenny, a seasoned pilot, flew the helicopter northward.

By sundown, they reached Dutchess County, where the helicopter hovered before landing on a helipad at the Lavender Ranch.

Stepping out, Milo spotted Wendy and others waiting by the distant edge of the helipad and smiled.

“...The Lavender Ranch spans 2,400 acres, about a 90-minute drive from Manhattan, less than nine miles from the upscale hamlet of Daus. Based on the information we have, it's currently the largest private land parcel for sale in Dutchess County,” explained Shabtai, Milo’s chief advisor, as they walked.

The land boasted a 300-acre lavender field that previously supplied a perfume company. Though known as the Lavender Ranch, it mainly served as an equestrian estate with facilities for training racehorses—barns, paddocks, staff housing—while other areas were neglected. The asking price was $120 million.

Walking alongside Shabtai and others, Milo evaluated the property. Although smaller compared to vast farmlands in California or Texas and certainly minuscule compared to Montana or Colorado, this was New York State, the top economic region in the U.S., and within a stone's throw of Manhattan.

Real estate here couldn’t be compared to cheaper, remote places.

While some might associate New York State with Manhattan's density, the state had 58,000 farms, with 34% of its land dedicated to agriculture and livestock. It was a dairy hub, producing the most milk in the U.S., alongside crops, fruits, and syrup.

In New York, $120 million bought only so much land. Elsewhere, the same sum could buy hundreds of thousands of acres.

“…Land is always a wise investment. Boss, if you purchase this and invest an additional $10 million, it could generate over $5 million annually as a high-yield farm,” Shabtai concluded.

Seeing Milo nod as the sun set, Shabtai smiled.

“Let’s take a tour before nightfall.”

Milo's group boarded a convoy of off-road vehicles and explored the property. At the ranch’s outskirts, near mountainous terrain, Milo stopped the car, prompting David and Kenny to get out, followed by Milo himself.

Kenny pointed to the terrain. “Boss, this valley between the mountains and the adjacent plains are ideal for a training base. The nearby lake offers a spot for a new villa, with natural beauty and security.”

“We could install watchtowers with powerful spotlights for nighttime defense, armed with automatic rifles to respond swiftly to any breach. This setup would be formidable; only heavily armed teams could pose a threat.”

Shabtai and other advisors exchanged uneasy glances as Kenny’s vision unfolded, their expressions growing more strained with every detail.

Surprisingly, Milo nodded in agreement, taking of Kenny's strategic suggestions into serious consideration. Milo had already been contemplating the idea of establishing a secure, private armed base for multiple purposes: personal safety, confidential meetings, and even as a training ground for specialized operations. The Lavender Ranch, with its secluded location, rolling fields, and natural barriers, was an ideal candidate.

Shabtai, however, felt compelled to voice his concerns. “Boss, while I understand the need for security, transforming a ranch into a militarized base may attract unwanted attention. We must tread carefully. The scale of such an operation could raise questions, even in the most elite circles.”

Milo smirked, leaning against the SUV and taking in the panoramic view. The distant hills, bathed in the amber hues of sunset, seemed to echo the latent potential of the land. “That’s why it will be done in phases, discreetly. We start with basic security and gradually build up to more advanced facilities. It will look like a luxury estate on the surface, but those in the know will recognize it as more.”

David, another of Milo’s trusted confidants, nodded approvingly. “We could start with perimeter surveillance systems and gradually integrate advanced tech. Once we establish this, hiring retired military personnel and discreet operatives will be the next step.”

Kenny added, “And we’ll make use of the terrain to conceal strategic points. Underground storage and training facilities can be constructed to avoid detection from above.”

Milo’s mind was already mapping out the logistics: partnerships with construction companies, some owned by shell corporations to maintain secrecy, and consulting with military strategists who owed him favors. This was no ordinary venture; it would solidify his standing not only as a media and business magnate but as a figure with substantial, unspoken power.

“Start with the blueprint and procurement,” Milo ordered. “And make sure to include top-of-the-line surveillance equipment and redundant power systems. I want the first phase completed by the end of the summer.”

“Yes, boss,” Kenny replied, jotting down notes on a small notepad.

The team returned to the main area of the ranch as the last rays of sunlight faded, and shadows began to lengthen over the rolling fields. The air grew cooler, carrying the subtle, calming scent of lavender. Yet, beneath that tranquility lay the early stirrings of a much more formidable project—one that would redefine Milo Blackburn’s influence and legacy.

As they drove back to the helipad, Shabtai's expression was unreadable. He had witnessed Milo make bold decisions before, but this was on an entirely new level. It was not just about expanding business empires or climbing social ladders. This was about power—the kind that made even those in high places pause.

In Milo’s mind, the Lavender Ranch was not just a new asset; it was a fortress in the making. And soon, it would become the nerve center of a hidden network that only a handful of people would ever know existed.

Chapter 134: Suffocating for the Dream

Milo stayed in New York for another day.

On April 5th, he finally boarded a plane headed for the West Coast.

This time, however, he didn’t return directly to Beverly Hills in Los Angeles; he had other business to attend to.

In San Francisco.

*Pacific Time, USA*

At 2 PM, a Boeing 737-500 landed smoothly at San Francisco International Airport.

Milo pulled down the brim of his hat and wrapped his hoodie tighter around his neck. Accompanied by eight bodyguards, he quickly descended the ramp and headed to a convoy waiting for him at the private tarmac.

"Is everything ready?"

As soon as he got in the car, Milo asked Musk, who had been specifically assigned to pick him up.

"Yes, everything is set. Boss, would you like to head to the hotel first, or visit the new company? The office has been prepared, the equipment is set up, and all the newly hired employees have been notified. Everyone is waiting for you!"

"Let’s check out the new company first. Thanks for handling everything," Milo said with a smile.

Musk shook his head and chuckled lightly. To him, this was no trouble at all.

It was just a bit tedious, and most of the detailed tasks were delegated to others. His role was primarily planning and coordination.

After all, this new company was actually formed by acquiring and reorganizing a small startup founded by a group of engineers.

As Yahoo's Chief Marketing Officer, Musk only needed to spend an hour or two daily supervising the integration process.

Besides, Musk was a true workaholic, happy to spend all his time at work.

The workload from Yahoo as CMO was negligible for someone like him.

Now that Milo had given him another project, Musk was even more thrilled.

Before long, the convoy arrived at a 10-story building in Silicon Valley with a glass facade that looked like three stacked slices of toast.

Milo surveyed the spacious, brightly lit office lobby.

The exterior wall was made entirely of floor-to-ceiling windows, and the entire floor had no partitions—completely open-plan. Even Milo didn’t have a private office.

This was by his own request; he rarely visited more than ten times a year, so there was no need for a personal office.

The office was fully equipped, with rest areas, discussion spaces, a snack bar, hydration stations, and even a gaming zone.

Although it was a new company, Milo had a complete plan and vision.

He didn’t like the idea of starting with a small studio and slowly building up.

He wasn’t short on money, and his product was nearly complete.

The new company’s mission was to refine the software, prepare for future updates, manage the product, and launch promotional campaigns.

Milo relied on his financial resources to bypass the traditional Silicon Valley startup ecosystem entirely.

There was no need for incubators to nurture his product or angel investors to provide early-stage funding.

With ample capital, fully equipped departments, complete staffing, and source code already written, Milo was building a strong foundation. All he needed was a team of developers to perfect the product.

Once the product was market-ready, he planned to bring in innovators to free up his time and energy.

Musk quickly gathered the entire staff, including the three founders of the acquired company—Visger, Waddy, and Gould.

Everyone gathered, eagerly awaiting the arrival of their new boss.

When Milo appeared in a hoodie, casual pants, and sneakers, the employees immediately felt a sense of camaraderie.

Most of them were dressed similarly—casual outfits, jeans, and sneakers. Hardly anyone was wearing formal suits.

"Hello, everyone. I’m your boss, Milo Blackburn. Some of you might recognize me; after all, I am somewhat of a public figure," Milo began, breaking the ice with a self-deprecating joke.

His sunny smile and outgoing demeanor made him look less like a traditional CEO and more like a Hollywood star playing the role of a startup founder.

As the staff set up a large whiteboard behind him, Milo held a marker confidently and continued with his introduction.

"I’m a writer, a director, and, yes, a wealthy billionaire. But I’m also a Silicon Valley investor."

"I acquired Visger, Waddy, and Gould’s company because their vision for a software product aligned with one of my own ideas."

"I met with them, and we found that our goals were identical!"

"So, I provided the funds, they provided the effort, and together we assembled this team to create a software product that I’ve named *ITY*!"

He wrote "I Talk to You" on the whiteboard and explained:

"This will be a real-time communication app. Unlike email, ITY will support text and voice messaging, asynchronous offline messages, recoverable file transfers, and searchable directories—allowing people to communicate quickly and directly online."

With every feature he mentioned, he wrote it on the board, eventually drawing a small circle with a phone icon in the center.

"This is the product we will launch! I believe it will revolutionize the online experience for users worldwide!"

The enthusiastic faces before him reminded Milo of the countless dreamers in Silicon Valley, many of whom joined startups not just to pursue their ambitions but to work for companies with potential, aiming to achieve their own financial success when the company went public.

"Time is tight, as I aim to launch this product by the end of the year."

"But I believe in each of you. Your presence here proves your excellence, given the rigorous hiring standards of our HR department. Welcome to the world of dreams!"

"Let’s suffocate for our dreams!"

As his speech ended, the room erupted in applause and cheers.

Thus, on this very afternoon, a new company officially began its journey in Silicon Valley.

The applause subsided, and everyone returned to their desks to begin their work.

Milo spent the rest of the afternoon moving between groups, asking questions, and getting a sense of his employees' skills and dedication.

By the end of the day, it was clear to him that this team had great potential. But Milo also knew that talent alone wasn’t enough; discipline and loyalty were equally important.

Before leaving the office, he gathered the three original founders—Visger, Waddy, and Gould—in the conference room.

Milo leaned back in his chair, his expression calm but his gaze sharp.

"Let me make one thing clear," he began, his tone no longer the warm and approachable one he’d used earlier.

"This company is my vision. I bought your startup because I saw value in your work, but now it’s mine. You are no longer the owners; you are employees, like everyone else here."

The three founders exchanged nervous glances, but no one dared to interrupt.

Milo continued, his voice steady:

"I value innovation and hard work, and I reward them generously. But there’s one thing I won’t tolerate—betrayal."

He leaned forward, his gaze piercing.

"If any of you—or anyone else in this company—tries to steal my ideas, leak information to competitors, or sabotage this project, I will find out. And when I do, the consequences will be severe."

The room was silent, the air heavy with tension.

Milo let the weight of his words settle before sitting back and smiling faintly.

"Of course, as long as you’re loyal and dedicated, you have nothing to worry about. I’m fair, and I take care of my people. But I need to be clear about where I stand."

Visger, the oldest of the three founders, finally spoke up.

"We understand, Mr. Blackburn. We’re committed to this project and to you."

Milo nodded, satisfied.

"Good. That’s what I wanted to hear."

He stood, signaling the end of the meeting.

"Now, let’s get to work. We have a product to launch."

Over the next few months, Milo threw himself into the project, balancing his time between ITY and his other ventures.

He made frequent visits to the office, holding brainstorming sessions and ensuring the team stayed on track.

But his vigilance never wavered.

He had a team of private investigators monitoring the company’s operations, watching for any signs of disloyalty or misconduct.

Milo wasn’t paranoid—he was prepared. He knew from experience that success bred envy, and envy could lead to betrayal.

One evening, as he was reviewing some reports in his Beverly Hills mansion, his phone buzzed with a message from his head of security.

"We need to talk. Found something."

Milo’s jaw tightened as he replied, "Be here in 20 minutes."

When the head of security arrived, he handed Milo a folder.

"One of the junior developers has been in contact with a competitor. He’s been leaking details about our features and timeline."

Milo’s eyes narrowed as he flipped through the documents, which included transcripts of phone calls and screenshots of emails.

"How much damage has been done?" he asked coldly.

"Minimal. We caught it early. But he was planning to send them more."

Milo closed the folder and exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable.

"Handle it," he said simply.

The head of security nodded and left without another word.

The next day, the developer in question was gone. No one in the office knew what had happened to him, and no one dared to ask.

Milo addressed the staff that afternoon, his tone calm but firm.

"I want to remind everyone of the importance of loyalty and integrity. We’re building something extraordinary here, and I need to know that I can trust each and every one of you."

He didn’t mention the incident directly, but the message was clear.

From that day on, the team worked harder than ever, driven by a mix of ambition and fear.

Milo’s company was no longer just a dream; it was becoming a reality.

And Milo was willing to do whatever it took to protect it.

Chapter 135: Why Not?

Business warfare isn’t like hosting a dinner party; it doesn’t always require meticulous planning and strategy.

That’s the kind of drama movies like to portray.

In reality, business warfare is unpretentious yet deadly—deadly in every sense of the word.

Want to know what real business warfare looks like in Western society?

Just read the entrepreneurial histories of the DuPonts or Rockefellers.

Or dig into the triangular trade between Europe, Africa, and the Americas.

That’s the true logic of Western commerce:

- If I’m stronger than you, I’ll devour you.

- If you’re weaker than me, you should accept being devoured.

Even in modern times, examples abound—like the Alstom case a decade later.

Or, as a positive spin, the “Chrysanthemum Event” two decades later.

Laws? Market rules? All a façade.

The Anglo-Saxons only talk about those when they can’t beat you.

But when they have the upper hand? They’ll be the first to break any so-called “spirit of the contract” and outright rob you.

After all, their roots are in a pirate’s mindset.

A couple of centuries of good living doesn’t erase a culture’s underlying logic.

---

Having completed the task that gave him such peace of mind, Milo didn’t leave the area immediately. His convoy drove to an old town in the San Francisco Bay Area, not far from where he had been.

Here, Wally Pfister’s Da Vinci Code film crew was shooting on location.

Unlike the coast, where the wind carried eerie, ghostly wails, the town’s gentle breeze danced through the sycamore trees lining a nearby river. Their green leaves swayed softly, creating a serene, idyllic scene.

Children played, running around carefree, while the few pedestrians strolled leisurely. Everything seemed harmonious and beautiful.

A stunning woman redirected her gaze from the lead actor, Tommy, on set. Stirring her coffee absentmindedly, she glanced beyond the film crew.

“I heard Mr. Blackburn is supposed to visit,” said the middle-aged man beside her.

“Yes, he said he’d be here two hours ago. But he hasn’t shown up, and the director is clearly stalling the shoot, waiting for him,” the woman replied nonchalantly.

She glanced at her hesitant manager before adding, “If he doesn’t show up at all, are we just going to keep shooting indefinitely?”

“Well,” the man shrugged. Then he joked, “Honestly, I think the director doesn’t need the whole crew to wait. Just you. My guess is Mr. Blackburn is coming mostly for you.”

The woman smiled faintly and shook her head.

This was Sophie Marceau, famously nicknamed “France’s Eternal Love.”

Compliments like these were nothing new to her.

Time had added a mature charm to her once-innocent face, but her soulful, melancholic brown eyes remained as captivating as ever.

---

Sophie was in the U.S. because Hollywood had invited her to audition.

She’d received offers from Hollywood directors before, but those were for romance or art films with budgets of just a few million dollars. Why bother?

She could make such films in France or Europe without flying across the Atlantic.

Big-budget commercial films, however, rarely considered her—she was European, French no less, not even British.

Even Hollywood’s own leading ladies struggled to land major roles in big productions.

But this time was different. The offer came from The Da Vinci Code crew.

Unlike in America, where Angels & Demons was met with praise, the film faced much controversy in Europe due to its blasphemous undertones. In some countries, it nearly didn’t make it to theaters.

The debates only increased its exposure.

European filmmakers—always the boldest and most rebellious—found it captivating. Sophie herself had watched the movie five times.

So when The Da Vinci Code extended an invitation, she accepted without hesitation.

Since returning from Poland, she hadn’t taken on any projects. Just thinking of Poland brought a flicker of shadow to her expression.

---

After a month with the crew, Sophie had grown familiar with the role, which seemed tailor-made for her. She had even heard rumors that Milo Blackburn—the producer and writer—had adjusted the script after learning she’d joined the project.

But when Milo arrived on set that day, his piercing blue eyes locked onto hers, and she suddenly felt self-conscious.

She stumbled through simple scenes, needing over a dozen takes.

---

“Let’s take a break, Wally,” Milo finally said. “It’s getting late, and everyone’s tired. We can resume tomorrow.”

Wally, like a general receiving orders from his king, immediately smiled and called it a wrap.

Relieved, Sophie exhaled. Another take, and she might’ve lost her composure entirely.

As expected, Milo invited her to dinner afterward. Feigning consideration for a moment, she accepted.

---

An hour later, they sat in San Francisco’s Michelin three-star French restaurant, Caraci.

The soft glow of crystal chandeliers, melodic tunes from the band, and elegant service created an enchanting ambiance.

Seated at a table by the east wall, Sophie and Milo engaged in lively conversation.

From time to time, their low laughter echoed, as the evening unfolded like a scene from one of Sophie’s cherished French films.

The woman had her hair neatly coiled, with thick bangs brushed forward. She wore a white dress with a high V-neckline, her pale neck exposed, exuding both a delicate beauty and unparalleled elegance. Her exquisite face looked as if it had been sculpted from porcelain.

The man, on the other hand, was dressed in a formal suit, with blond hair and blue eyes that gave him the appearance of a classic American gentleman—handsome yet brimming with intensity.

Fortunately, the ever-present gentle smile on his face softened the sharpness of his features, making him considerably more approachable. Coupled with his deep, magnetic voice, he seemed irresistibly charming to women.

Many of the staff recognized him immediately as Milo Blackburn, the internet and media sensation of recent times.

The beautiful woman accompanying him, however, was not as widely recognized.

But Milo Blackburn's name was almost always linked with rumors about beautiful women since he first appeared in the media, so this scene didn’t seem out of the ordinary.

"Alright, I admit this is quite amusing. Are you satisfied now?" Sophie said with a resigned tone.

"It sounds more like you're warning me that I have no choice but to be satisfied, whether I like it or not," Milo replied with a smile, taking a long sip from his glass. "And yes, I am satisfied."

"So, how exactly should I phrase it? I've already admitted it's amusing. Or perhaps..."

Sophie's eyes suddenly curved into a smile. Her earlier exasperation was clearly feigned, but her sentence trailed off as if she'd thought of something that made her pause. Her smile became slightly stiff.

"Perhaps what?" Milo, observing her intently, asked with a calm demeanor.

He had just told a dry joke, and Sophie Marceau had played along perfectly.

"Nothing, really. I just suddenly remembered that getting a table at this restaurant seems quite difficult. You usually need to book at least a day in advance. I've been filming nearby for a month and tried coming here before, but they wouldn't let me in."

Sophie smiled, smoothly steering the conversation elsewhere. "So... did you book this table a day in advance?"

"No," Milo replied with a shake of his head and a smile. "I simply had my bodyguard inform the restaurant owner that Milo Blackburn wanted to dine here."

"And the owner immediately agreed, giving us the best table."

Sophie Marceau: "..."

Right, she suddenly remembered that she had no fame in the U.S.

What she couldn't achieve here, Milo could do with ease.

After all, he wasn’t just a big-name celebrity—he was a billionaire.

In many cases, wealthy people carry more influence than stars.

If he wanted, he could likely buy out this restaurant without a second thought.

"Fine. I guess I’m still a nobody in Hollywood," Sophie said with a helpless smile.

"Don't worry. In just six months, you’ll be the most recognized French star in America," Milo said confidently.

Sophie smiled knowingly, understanding that he was referring to the release of The Da Vinci Code.

She thought of Catherine Zeta-Jones, the lead actress of Angels & Demons, who had little fame in Hollywood before the movie’s release.

Afterward, Zeta-Jones became one of the most famous European actresses in Hollywood.

Perhaps, after The Da Vinci Code premiered, she would also become widely known in America.

"You really have that much faith in me? I'm worried I might ruin your film," she said with a coquettish smile, her eyes glimmering with charm.

"Of course!"

"I have faith not only in you but also in my movie!" Milo declared with unwavering confidence.

After all, The Da Vinci Code wasn’t some romantic drama.

It was a suspense-filled detective story interwoven with extensive theological and Christian references.

Sophie Marceau’s role as the lead actress was more decorative and connective than demanding.

As long as she fit the visual description, it was almost impossible to mess up the role.

Sophie seemed to recognize this as well and smiled, saying, "Fine, you’ve been so successful so far. I suppose you’ll keep succeeding."

"Including our relationship?"

"Uh..."

Sophie Marceau looked at Milo, noticing his direct, intense gaze.

It made her heart tremble slightly.

Such an aggressive and straightforward look and demeanor were rare to her after she rose to fame.

Men who wanted her, no matter how desperately, always pretended to be polite and gentlemanly because they knew that was her type.

But Milo’s demeanor now—bold and aggressive—was something she should have disliked.

And yet, she didn’t.

In fact, she found it thrilling.

Perhaps she had grown tired of men who put on airs?

Maybe that’s why this kind of directness felt so novel and different.

Of course, she wouldn’t admit that a big part of this attraction came from the fact that she knew how powerful the man in front of her was.

After dinner, Milo drove Sophie back to the back entrance of the hotel where her crew was staying.

His car stopped in the alley outside the rear entrance, where his bodyguards blocked off both ends of the alley, ensuring it was entirely secure.

The two of them sat silently in the car, maintaining the subtle atmosphere that had lingered since they left the restaurant.

"In any case, thank you, Milo. Thank you for choosing me to play Sophie Neveu. Haha, what a coincidence that she’s also named Sophie," Sophie finally broke the silence, looking out the windshield with a faint smile.

"Is it possible that when I first created Sophie Neveu, I imagined someone like you in my mind?" Milo replied half-jokingly.

He wasn’t sure if the original author had thought this way, but the character’s description did bear some resemblance to Sophie Marceau.

When adapting the screenplay, he had tweaked the character slightly, making her a perfect fit for Sophie Marceau.

"You’re flattering me," Sophie said with a smile, her expression serene yet radiant.

She snapped out of her thoughts and opened the car door. "Thank you for taking me home, Milo."

"No need to thank me. Ensuring a lady’s safety to her doorstep is what every gentleman should do," Milo said as he stepped out of the car, walking her to the hotel’s back door.

"Well then, it was a wonderful evening," Sophie said, standing by the door. Her hands fidgeted with her room keycard, the slight clinking sound audible yet faint.

Milo watched her without speaking, his body suddenly leaning forward slightly.

Sophie understood what he meant but didn’t avoid his gaze. Instead, her bright eyes stayed fixed on him.

Then, he gently cupped her delicate face and leaned in, his lips softly brushing hers.

"You’re right, Sophie. It was a wonderful evening. Perhaps we should make it even more beautiful?"

"Why not?"

She smiled.

(Chapter End)