181-185

*Chapter 181: Leaving the Video Aside, Was Hawk Really Innocent?*

Los Angeles Financial District, Aon Center.

In the office, Hailey hung up the phone and sighed softly—Bella Sein had failed.

She opened her computer and logged into her Twitter account.

Yes, Hawk Osman was their enemy, but that didn’t stop them from using Twitter.

After all, it’s the most widely used social media platform in the U.S.

As soon as Hailey entered the Twitter interface, she noticed the announcements displayed on the right side of the screen.

Both Twitter’s official announcement and the LAPD’s statement were there.

She clicked on one and played the video.

Bella Sein had performed admirably, showing ruthless determination—even stabbing herself in a critical area with Hawk Osman’s pen.

Under normal circumstances, the plan would have succeeded.

Who would have thought Bella would encounter a pervert who installed surveillance cameras in his own office?

As a company CEO, don’t you exploit your female employees? Don’t you fool around with your secretary? Don’t you occasionally indulge with a celebrity or a model for fun?

If you don’t do any of these, what kind of CEO are you?

Confirming the operation’s complete failure, Hailey shut down Twitter and headed to Grant’s office.

Grant was on a call with Mayor Irving of Covina.

Hailey waited for the call to end before saying, “Boss, Bella Sein’s plan failed.”

Grant seemed slightly surprised. “The plan was crude but usually very effective.”

“Take a look at Twitter,” Hailey briefly summarized the situation.

Grant opened the video, watched it carefully, then sighed. “Bella did well, but she faced an opponent who was overly cautious.”

Hailey agreed. “Our plan was solid, but we lost to perversion and vigilance.”

Grant nodded and asked, “Will Bella cause any trouble?”

“She won’t dare,” Hailey replied simply. “We have leverage on her. If she talks, she’ll spend the rest of her life in prison.”

After some thought, Grant said, “This failure has alerted the opposition. Let’s avoid further actions for now to conserve our resources. It seems we’ll have to confront them head-on in Covina.”

Hailey added, “The Western Bureau reports that Brian has appeared, assisting Hawk Osman with follow-up matters.”

“As expected, those two are working together again.” Grant fell silent for a moment before continuing, “Leave Bella alone. She doesn’t have any evidence of our involvement. Even if she doesn’t talk, Hawk and Brian can probably figure out it was someone from Sacramento. It won’t be long before we face them directly.”

Hailey acknowledged this and left the office.

Grant picked up the phone and called Sacramento. “Things didn’t go well. We need to take Hawk Osman more seriously—he’s even tougher than we anticipated.”

The person on the other end replied, “Continue supporting Irving Nestor’s campaign. Your top priority is to ensure his re-election.”

Grant agreed. “Understood.”

---

*Ocean Park Boulevard, Twitter Headquarters.*

As soon as Hawk returned, he called a meeting with department heads.

Everyone understood that Twitter had narrowly escaped disaster.

If Hawk, their founder, had fallen, the company might have collapsed as well.

In the conference room, Hawk wasted no time. “This incident can also become a trending news story. The Operations and Editorial teams should focus on promoting it for the next week, with technical support from the IT department.”

Sasha, the Operations Manager and Caroline’s former assistant, asked, “Do you have a specific theme in mind?”

Hawk, who had been contemplating this during his journey back, replied, “The theme will be: ‘Men Need to Protect Themselves Outside.’”

Initially, the room might have found this odd, but after hearing about Hawk’s ordeal, Sasha immediately understood his point.

The room, filled with men, grew somber. Reflecting on Hawk’s experience, they resolved to be more cautious. Moving forward, they’d avoid one-on-one meetings with female colleagues, and if such meetings were unavoidable, they’d ensure the door remained open.

The meeting ended in under five minutes.

Hawk then had a private conversation with the HR manager about limiting the hiring of female employees.

In the tech industry, men already had a significant advantage.

Hawk couldn’t help but recall his past life’s examples of Boeing and Twitter, which had heavily employed women and LGBTQ+ employees, leading to near-collapse.

These were lessons he couldn’t ignore.

Next, Hawk summoned Harland and Kasim to temporarily halt the adoption of Bella Sein’s algorithm.

With the room cleared of others, Edward said, “Boss, I should have been at the office. If I were there, I would’ve accused Bella of racism right away.”

Hawk replied, “You’d go nuclear right off the bat?”

Edward scratched his head. “Racism versus feminism—it would’ve been a fair fight.”

“Don’t worry, if something like this happens again, I’ll let you take the lead.” Hawk shifted topics. “What news did you get from Campos?”

Edward pulled out several photos and handed them to Hawk. “These are the latest from Campos. They show Harley’s recent activities with Gretchen.”

Hawk examined the photos. Most were taken near Paramount Studios, with several showing Harley entering a school for aspiring star performers.

Harley, elegantly dressed with striking blonde hair, was clearly trying to make an impression.

Hawk quickly deduced her intentions. “Is she taking acting classes?”

“Yes,” Edward confirmed. “Campos discovered she’s using the alias Polly, claiming to be a girl from Montana chasing her acting dream in Los Angeles.”

He pointed to two specific photos. “Harley moved out of her apartment and is now staying at a motel. She told the motel owner her father died in a car accident, and her mother, originally from Australia, returned to Melbourne and remarried.”

Hawk understood instantly. This woman had clearly studied the backgrounds of missing persons to craft her story.

Edward noted, “She likely created this backstory to ensure those scumbags wouldn’t reject her.”

“Indeed, she’s courageous and righteous,” Hawk said, though he was not one to pursue justice for its own sake, always prioritizing his own interests.

That didn’t stop him from admiring her.

Hawk put the photos away and instructed Edward, “Tell Campos to assign two of his best people to shadow Harley. Good people shouldn’t disappear.”

Edward nodded and left to carry out the orders.

Back in his office, Hawk found Brian wandering around curiously.

“What are you doing? Careful, or I’ll have you arrested as a thief!” Hawk joked.

“I’m looking for cameras,” Brian replied.

“Relax, I’m not spying on you.” Hawk took his seat and asked, “Any updates on who was behind Bella Sein?”

Brian sighed. “I contacted Erica, but she’s tight-lipped, and her lawyer is watching her closely. Proper interrogation won’t get us far.”

Hawk pressed further. “And your sources?”

Brian hesitated. “The bureaucracy upstairs is too slow. Gray Davis’s assistant’s office oversees several consulting teams, but we’ve lost contact with all of them. They still haven’t figured out who came to L.A.”

He reassured Hawk, “Don’t worry. The best of them are likely targeting Arnold Schwarzenegger. We’re small fish.”

“They’re still dangerous,” Hawk noted. “They don’t play around.”

Brian nodded. It was a classic yet highly effective tactic.

As Hawk mulled over their next move, Brian logged into Twitter to check the news.

After a while, he remarked, “You’re using your case to create a trending topic?”

Hawk responded, “It happened, so why not use it? Waste not, want not.”

Brian was speechless.

News of Twitter’s founder and CEO being framed by a subordinate quickly climbed the trending charts.

Even with blurred faces, the video soared to the top of Twitter’s and Google’s trending news lists.

The public reaction was overwhelming and far exceeded expectations.

On Twitter, countless users shared Hawk’s story, adding their thoughts:

- “America talks a lot about protecting women’s rights, but who protects men’s legitimate rights?”

- “Life’s tough for men. Learn from Hawk and protect yourself!”

- “True story: My former coworker was falsely accused of harassment. Even with audio evidence, he was fired.”

- “I’m a photographer. While shooting on the subway, a woman accused me of invading her privacy. I ended up paying $500.”

- “Interacting with colleagues or single women, especially those with potential conflicts of interest, requires caution. False accusations can ruin your life.”

In response, feminists weren’t about to stay silent.

While they might fear physical confrontations in real life, they were fearless and unstoppable online.

Many feminist accounts pushed back:

- “Most victims of harassment cases are women!”

- “You’ve oppressed women for centuries and still want to?”

- “Why wait for something bad to happen before speaking up? By then, it’s too late!”

- “Leaving the video aside, shouldn’t Hawk Osman reflect on whether he’s at fault? Was he unfair to female employees? Did he send the wrong signals? Out of all the men at Twitter, why did the actress target him?”

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 182: Torment from the Mentally Unstable

In some ways, social media is a lot like celebrities: it thrives on heated debates and controversies, and its greatest fear is being ignored.

Fueled by Hawk’s deliberate provocations, men and women engaged in fierce arguments, with the topic quickly spiraling beyond the original Hawk incident into a broader gender divide.

The online battle spread from Twitter across the North American internet, even dragging traditional media outlets into the fray.

Some European media even got involved.

In real life, the situation might not have seemed so pronounced.

But on Twitter, it became an all-out battleground. A surge of users registered on the platform, picking sides and joining the fight.

As everyone knows, online arguments never truly have winners. A group of trolls can't out-argue another group of trolls.

Then there were the spectators—people who registered accounts just to enjoy the drama without participating.

The biggest winner in this gender debate? Twitter.

Twitter seized the opportunity to launch its Spanish-language version, targeting all Spanish-speaking markets.

This included Spain in Europe and Latin America, starting with Mexico and moving south—all under Twitter's expanding domain.

Latin America, after all, is America’s backyard.

Within just a few days, Twitter gained over three million new global users.

Its total global user count was now nearing 25 million.

Caroline called Hawk from Australia, saying the trending topics had made her promotional work much easier. She had successfully signed contracts with telecom companies in Australia and New Zealand.

She nearly sang a rendition of “Song of the Sheep” for Hawk over the phone.

Hawk, however, had plans to team up with Brian to deal with the mastermind behind the scenes. He needed someone at the company to hold down the fort.

Over the phone, he said, “Finish up there as soon as possible and get back here immediately.”

Caroline replied promptly, “I’ll have someone book my flight right now.”

Hawk switched to his PUA mode: “Miss Sheep, the company can’t manage without you.”

Caroline nearly transformed into a flying goat, eager to return to Los Angeles: “I’ll book the earliest flight possible.”

That afternoon, Erica called to invite Hawk to the St. Mary’s Psychiatric Center. She had orchestrated an elaborate plan.

Hawk had been waiting for Erica to finalize this scheme, as it was crucial to uncovering who was behind Bella.

Bella Sain, due to her mental health issues, was temporarily detained there. The LAPD cited concerns for her own and public safety, requiring a mental evaluation and refusing bail for the time being.

That evening, two medical experts were scheduled to assess Bella Sain’s mental state.

When Hawk left the company, Erica’s Mercedes G-Wagon was already parked outside the office building.

Hawk got in and asked, “Can I observe in person?”

Erica, driving along the Pacific Coast Highway, replied, “It’s within your rights as either the individual involved or their attorney to supervise. I’ve already taken care of the necessary paperwork.”

“Is Brian coming too?” Hawk sounded uneasy. “With his ‘curse cult leader’ persona and doom-laden mouth, I’m worried he’ll say something that causes all the patients at the center to riot.”

Erica smirked. “Brian is your lawyer. I’ve already called him.”

Hawk asked, “Did you bring your long gun?”

Erica gestured to the back seat. “The rifle bag is back there.”

Just in case, Hawk retrieved the bag. “We’d better take it when we get out.”

Recalling Brian’s earlier ominous blessings, Erica agreed it was safer to be armed.

Hawk unzipped the bag to find a tactical vest, an AR-15, a shotgun, magazines, and an ammunition belt.

He inspected each item, ensuring they were ready for use.

After a 40-minute drive, the car finally pulled up to an old building surrounded by an electrified fence.

The tall walls were topped with electrified wiring, and guard towers flanked the sturdy iron gate. All guards were heavily armed, and their uniforms clearly didn’t belong to the LAPD.

Hawk scrutinized them. “Their uniforms look unusual.”

Erica parked in the lot near the gate and explained, “This place was originally managed by the Los Angeles City Hall. But as the number of criminally insane offenders grew, legal requirements mandated their separation from regular prisoners. The costs kept rising, so the city outsourced St. Mary’s Psychiatric Center to a private company.”

“That sounds familiar. A lot of prisons are outsourced too,” Hawk noted.

“Exactly. Some prisons in California have been outsourced as well,” Erica replied. “On one hand, crime rates are rising, increasing expenses. On the other hand, states like California rarely impose the death penalty. Even when they do, it’s hard to carry out. The number of high-security inmates keeps growing, and they require separate, costly accommodations.”

Hawk asked, “What’s the plan you’ve cooked up? You’ve been so secretive about it.”

“A little accident. A small surprise,” Erica said cryptically. “It’s a performance designed to make Bella Sain talk.”

Several cars arrived in succession, including one carrying Julian and a few other LAPD officers.

Another Mercedes pulled up, and out stepped Brian the “Doomsayer.”

Hawk and Erica got out as well. Erica slung the rifle bag over her shoulder and followed Hawk and Brian toward the gate.

After showing their credentials, the deputy director, Nathan, let them inside.

Julian and the others were all visibly armed.

Erica showed her police badge, and the staff glanced at the contents of her bag without comment.

Nathan walked alongside Erica, speaking in a low voice.

Erica nodded. “Don’t use the real offenders.”

“We won’t,” Nathan assured her with a smile. “Our staff here have been around these patients long enough to know how to act.”

Erica lowered her voice. “Once it’s done, the remainder of the payment will be delivered to you.”

Hawk overheard but didn’t pry, trusting Erica to handle it.

They entered a corridor and headed toward the inpatient area.

At regular intervals, heavy iron doors segmented the path.

The level of security reminded Hawk of Terminator 2.

The psychiatric facility where Sarah Connor was held wasn’t much different.

Erica, seemingly in sync with Hawk’s thoughts, whispered, “Parts of Terminator 2 were filmed here.”

Brian chimed in, “Why does that make me feel like we’ve switched from a horror film to a sci-fi thriller?”

Hawk, annoyed by the constant shift in tone, warned, “Stop talking about random nonsense.”

Brian protested, “I was just saying it feels like a horror movie…”

“You can shut up now,” Hawk said firmly. “From now on, you only need to wear your glasses and forget you even have a mouth.”

Brian, ever defiant, refused to stay silent. “You two idiots can’t blame me for everything.”

He opened his mouth to deliver another ominous statement: “With all this security, there’s no way anything could go wrong…”

Before he could finish, Brian felt something hard poke his waist and quickly shut up.

Looking down, he realized it was just Hawk’s finger and breathed a sigh of relief.

The group reached the evaluation room and entered the adjacent observation room. A one-way mirror allowed them to see everything happening in the evaluation room.

The two specialists assessing Bella Sain’s mental state were on their way.

Brian gestured to his mouth.

Hawk warned, “Say something sensible.”

Brian muttered, “If they determine she’s mentally fit, Bella Sain can post bail but will be restricted from leaving Los Angeles. With her actions, I’m confident we can convict her of false accusations and obstruction, earning her at least a year in prison.”

Hawk frowned. “Only a year?”

“She’s a woman,” Brian said helplessly. “Women often garner sympathy and leniency, even in court.”

Hawk whispered to the others, “Between women’s prison and St. Mary’s, which is better?”

Brian replied, “Staying here too long would mess with anyone’s mind, even a sane person’s.”

Hawk, devoid of sympathy for his enemies, said, “Then let’s find a way to keep her here longer.”

...

In the criminal ward of the inpatient area, night had fallen. Bella Sain, tense and on edge, hadn’t had a single good night’s sleep since arriving.

Suddenly, a scraping sound came from the wall separating the rooms.

Her neighbor was scratching the cement wall with their nails again.

The sound wasn’t loud, but it was unbearable, making Bella’s skin crawl.

Clang! Clang!

From another room, someone began rhythmically banging their head against the iron bars. The steady, deliberate beats resonated through the hall, creating an unsettling symphony with the scratching.

Out of nowhere, someone knocked on the iron door across from Bella.

That’s when she noticed a new resident in the room opposite hers.

Through the bars and across the hallway, the newcomer beckoned to her.

Desperate for normal interaction, Bella approached. The person across from her appeared clean, neatly dressed, and seemingly sane.

“Hey, gorgeous. What brings you here?” the person asked.

Relieved to hear a normal tone, Bella replied, “The LAPD claims I’m mentally unstable and have severe self-harm tendencies…”

“Self-harm?” The person seemed intrigued. “What did you cut off?”

He turned slightly, lifting his shirt. “Like this?”

Bella saw a massive scar on his side, grotesque and worm-like.

A scar was better than a mental illness, she thought, and asked, “Did you self-harm too?”

The man chuckled darkly. “I love eating animal organs, but the food here is awful. They don’t serve any, so I found a knife and carved out my own to eat.”

Bella recoiled in horror.

The nail-scratching intensified, now accompanied by a voice: “I saw you getting taken in. You came back looking like a wreck.”

“Like you’d know anything, blind man,” the other retorted.

The scratching stopped, and a new voice said, “I wasn’t always blind.”

Bella, an educated woman who had worked in Silicon Valley, wasn’t prepared for the reality of this place.

The noises abruptly ceased as footsteps echoed down the corridor. Guards accompanied by two burly female nurses arrived at Bella’s door.

They cuffed her and escorted her to the evaluation room, where she was strapped into a steel chair and locked in place.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 183: You Want to Destroy Me, and I Want to Destroy You

Sitting on the cold iron chair, Bella deeply regretted faking that mental illness record.

The past few days had taught her a harsh truth: tricks like that only work effectively for the rich.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t wealthy—and worse, she tried to pull it off on someone who was.

Bella had a nagging feeling that if she stayed here any longer, she would surely lose her mind.

The evaluators consisted of a man and a woman.

Before they could say anything, Bella blurted out in a rush, “I don’t have any mental illness! None!”

Exhausted from several sleepless nights, her voice wavered as she raised it unconsciously. “I really don’t have a mental illness! I swear I don’t!”

The two evaluators exchanged a glance and nodded slightly, reaching the same conclusion.

Based on past cases and their professional experience, Bella Sain was diagnosed with a severe mental disorder.

The rest of the evaluation process felt like a conveyor belt routine.

Throughout it, Bella repeatedly and loudly emphasized, “I really don’t have a mental illness!”

Once the evaluation was over, Bella was escorted back to a specially designed cell, while the two evaluators entered the observation room.

The male evaluator said, “Bella Sain’s condition is quite serious. I recommend increasing her medication dosage, continuing solitary confinement, and maintaining long-term observation…”

This outcome didn’t surprise Hawk at all.

The moment Bella had shouted that she didn’t have a mental illness, Hawk felt the result was already decided.

Shouting “I’m not mentally ill” in a psychiatric therapy center? That’s a surefire sign that you are.

The professional team of doctors gave their highly specialized assessment: Bella Sain had severe mental health issues, making her unfit to leave the St. Mary Psychiatric Therapy Center, let alone qualify for bail.

The group left the therapy center the same way they’d come. The two evaluators, along with Julian and others, drove off first.

Hawk opened the back door of his Mercedes G-Wagon and stashed the gun case under the rear seat.

Brian approached and said, “See? Nothing happened, right? I told you, the problem isn’t with me—it’s with you two.”

Hawk exchanged a glance with Erica and retorted, “Even unlucky people get lucky sometimes.”

Erica, who refused to consider herself a jinx, shot back, “It’s all because Hawk kept his eyes on you. Your cursed mouth didn’t get a chance to say anything disastrous.”

“Now stop staring at me,” Brian said, glancing back toward the therapy center. “That place is outdated and filled with dangerous criminals who have mental issues. What if one of them escapes?”

Erica opened the car door and got into the driver’s seat. Before closing it, she turned to her cousin and said, “If something happens at the therapy center, it’ll definitely be your fault.”

Hawk got into the passenger seat and shut the door immediately.

Brian, exasperated by the pair, paced in frustration and pointed at the therapy center. “Look! Nothing’s wrong, right?”

The therapy center remained eerily quiet—indeed, nothing seemed amiss.

“Too early to tell,” Hawk quipped. He wasn’t about to let the “jinx” label stick to him or Erica.

Brian ignored the two and headed toward his car.

Erica started the engine and drove out of the parking lot first.

Brian followed closely behind.

But they hadn’t driven far when the piercing sound of alarms erupted from the therapy center.

Erica immediately hit the brakes.

Brian stopped his car as well.

The three got out and stood by the roadside, looking toward the St. Mary Psychiatric Therapy Center perched on the hill.

The night had fully descended, and the center’s lights blazed brightly, signaling chaos.

Erica remarked, “These alarms usually go off during riots or escape attempts.”

Though the exact cause was unclear, Hawk didn’t hesitate to pin the blame on Brian. “Still think you’re not a jinx?”

Brian opened his mouth to argue, but the blaring alarms silenced him. Had his words just come true that fast?

Hawk clapped Brian on the shoulder. “Admit it—you’re the high priest of the Curse Cult, born with a cursed tongue. Think about it: you jinxed me a while ago, and the next day, I got entangled with Bella Sain’s mess.”

He added pointedly, “When you said it, Erica wasn’t even in my office. So the problem is with you, not us.”

“There’s a photo of Erica on your desk,” Brian countered, trying to sound confident, though doubt crept into his heart.

Could I really be cursed? Does everything I say turn into a jinx?

No way! The jinx has to be these two!

Hawk glanced at Erica, who nodded slightly. Something was happening at the therapy center.

Not long after, the alarms stopped.

Brian quickly pulled out his phone to make calls, desperate to prove he wasn’t cursed.

After a few calls, his phone rang. He answered, and his expression darkened.

“What happened?” Hawk asked.

Brian’s voice trembled as if his soul had taken a blow. “While escorting Bella Sain back, a female orderly got involved with a highly dangerous inmate. She secretly gave him a set of keys to help him escape.”

Hawk found the story familiar. “Like Joker and Harley Quinn?”

Brian, who didn’t read comics, shrugged. “The inmate’s a lunatic and a lock-picking expert. Instead of escaping, he used the keys to unlock other inmates’ cells. A mob of mentally unstable criminals broke free, causing chaos. They took Bella hostage. One of them used a sharpened toothbrush to stab her…”

Erica asked, “Is she dead?”

“No, just a minor cut on her thigh,” Brian replied. “The guards arrived in time to stop them, but Bella was so terrified she’s now in a daze. One man even threatened to cut out her kidney and eat it.”

Hawk patted Brian on the shoulder. “Buddy, keep your mouth shut from now on.”

Brian instinctively nodded. “Got it.”

But then he shook his head furiously. “No, no, something’s wrong here!”

He looked at Hawk and Erica, realization dawning. “It’s you two! You came to St. Mary’s, and then everything went wrong…”

Hawk, having already shifted the blame onto Brian, ignored him. “Let’s go home,” he said to Erica.

The two got into their car and sped away in the G-Wagon, disappearing into the night.

Left alone on the dark, empty road, Brian glanced at the still-lit therapy center. Thinking about the riot, he muttered to himself, I hope I don’t run into an escaped lunatic.  

Terrified, he jumped into his car and drove off.

---

---

*Inside the Mercedes-Benz G-Class, Hawk said, “This time, Brian’s going to question his entire existence.”*

Erica chuckled. “I wonder how effective it’ll be.”

Hawk understood what she meant. “Bella isn’t talking, so it’s worth a try.”

Erica replied, “If she were a man, some methods wouldn’t seem so sensitive, but with a woman, it’s more complicated.”

Hawk wasn’t in much of a hurry. “Let’s head back and wait for the feedback.”

---

*Saint Mary’s Psychiatric Treatment Center, Medical Room.*

Bella Sain had cuts on her upper thigh and left kidney area.

Though there was some bleeding, they were only surface wounds.

The doctor applied iodine to the cuts and had her sent back to her room.

At the door to her room, a loud bang came from the iron door across the hall. The bastard with a massive scar on his waist pressed his face against the iron bars, flashing his sharp, white teeth at Bella.

From another direction, the sound of nails scraping against a door echoed, as if an evil spirit had descended.

This reminded Bella of when that bastard used a toothbrush handle to stab at random.

When the guard opened her door, she quickly slipped inside and shut the door behind her.

The guard locked the door and left.

From across the hall, the man with the sharp teeth grinned and said, “Sweet kidneys… must be delicious.”

Bella didn’t dare look at him and shrank into the corner of the room.

That night was particularly hard to endure. Strange noises constantly echoed around her.

Every time Bella closed her eyes, she saw her kidneys being ripped out, dripping with blood, and stuffed into someone’s mouth.

Living in a place like this put a mental strain on a normal person that was unimaginable.

Even though Bella had mentally prepared herself for prison, being surrounded by lunatics and enduring last night’s attack was too much to handle.

For someone with an elite background like hers, the suffocating horror was beyond comprehension.

The next morning, Bella requested a meeting with Captain Julian, the officer in charge of her case.

Her demand was surprisingly simple: a safer place, far away from the psychopaths, where she could be held in isolation.

---

*That afternoon, Hawk got the name of the mastermind from Erica—Hailey Field.*

Both sides quickly reached a plea deal and a private agreement.

Bella provided information about the mastermind and offered Twitter a free license to a fully developed algorithm she had created. The algorithm could improve Twitter’s operational efficiency by 15%.

Hawk agreed to drop the charges against her and promised to release her from North America at an appropriate time. However, she wouldn’t be released immediately and would be temporarily held in isolation.

If Bella were released too soon, the people behind the scenes might notice.

As for involving the LAPD to summon Hailey, Hawk immediately dismissed the idea. Bella had no solid evidence.

Harland and Kasim confirmed the algorithm was legitimate and even suggested Hawk keep Bella Sain.

But Hawk declined. If it was some sort of ploy, it wasn’t worth the risk.

Later, using Bella’s information, Hawk instructed Edward to retrieve some documents from a bank safe deposit box.

The documents weren’t particularly useful. Bella’s greatest asset was the algorithm.

Hawk reviewed the documents carefully. Most of the information was about Hailey Field.

Hailey was part of the Sacramento-based Bales Strategic Consulting firm and had previously worked in the Governor’s Assistant Office.

Having someone’s information made things easier to proceed.

Hawk called Brian and faxed him the relevant documents.

Brian quickly traced Hailey Field to her consulting team.

The team was one of several providing services to the Governor’s Assistant Office. The team leader was Grant Cissé, and the members included Hailey Field, Madison Jensen, and Augusto Stones.

Brian contacted higher-ups in the Republican Party to obtain detailed information about the team.

Once Hawk received the intel, he instructed Brian to dispatch reliable members of the Ferguson family to investigate further.

Additionally, Hawk tasked Campos with locating these individuals in Los Angeles.

Hailey Field, in particular, was a priority, as Bella’s documents included a photo of her.

Information was being collected from multiple sources to prepare for the next steps, including strategies to deal with the team.

---

*Grant’s team had used despicable and shameless tactics that directly destroyed someone’s social reputation.*

Hawk wasn’t too concerned about Bella Sain—she was no longer a threat.

But as for the team behind it all, Hawk was preparing for ruthless retaliation.

They wanted to destroy him completely, and he would do the same to them.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 184: Preparing the Dump Truck

In the office, Hawk was flipping through the materials Brian had brought.

The team of four, led by Grant, all hailed from California Governor Gray Davis's alma mater, the University of California, Berkeley. While still students, they had joined Davis’s Science and Innovation Research Society.

As Hawk recalled a saying from his previous life, these four could be considered "true blue" for Gray Davis.

Brian remarked, "Their firm, Bells Strategic Consulting, was founded by one of Davis's college classmates. They’ve collaborated with him since his first election campaign. This time, they’ve been sent to Los Angeles mainly to target me..."

Thinking about how they’d already made a move against Hawk, Brian had to add, "And you. You’re their primary target."

Hawk took the photos of the four individuals from the file and pinned them to a whiteboard. "Judging by what Haley Field and Bella Sain have done so far, these people excel at stirring up trouble. Taking me down outright is no different than putting a target on my back."

Brian’s greatest concern was exactly that. "If they’ve gone after you, does that mean I’m next?"

Hawk intended for Brian to feel the gravity of the situation. "If they’ve failed to get anything on me and only succeeded in alerting me, you’re the obvious next target. Based on the intelligence you’ve gathered, their goals this time are not only to retaliate for the Wagner incident but also to support Covina's incumbent mayor in his re-election bid."

Hearing this, Brian realized how crucial his role was—he was the centerpiece. "Without me, Covina's current mayor, Owen Nester, would have no competition."

Brian had spent $2 million to hire Hawk, not only to disrupt his opponents but also to prevent himself from being taken down. "Should we strike first and take them out?"

Hawk thought back to the attack Haley had orchestrated. If not for his in-depth knowledge of high-level corporate warfare and his cautious habits, Bella Sain might have succeeded. It would’ve been impossible to clear his name.

"I agree; we should take them down first. Constantly staying on guard is exhausting." Still simmering from nearly being framed as a sexual predator, Hawk was far more aggressive this time. "Find out where they’re staying and their schedules. Before they fully integrate into the Covina campaign, we’ll send them where they belong."

Brian asked, "What’s your plan?"

Hawk wanted to be blunt and forceful, a demonstration of what happens to those who dare challenge him.

He said directly, "There are two options."

Brian was intrigued. "You’ve already prepared two options?"

Hawk nodded slightly. "The first is the simplest and most direct: use a dump truck. Wait until all four of them are in the same vehicle and ram it. The advantage is that it’s a one-time solution. The downside is that a car crash is messy and hard to clean up afterward."

Having witnessed similar cases firsthand, Hawk had already thought it through. "There are plenty of unemployed truck drivers who’ve become homeless. For $10,000, someone would do it. Pay a little extra, and they’ll disappear into Latin America after the job."

Brian pondered for a moment. "What about the second option?"

Hawk replied, "We plant something incriminating in their car, office, or residence and then call the police. If the quantity is large enough, the case will escalate to the detectives’ bureau, putting us in control. The problem is that the LAPD rarely gets directly involved in political disputes. Taking down all four at once would be difficult. This isn’t something Erica or Julian can handle privately."

Brian remarked, "You’re being unusually aggressive this time."

Hawk spoke softly. "Do you know what would happen if their framing succeeded?"

Brian didn’t have to think long. "You’d be forced to resign from Twitter, dragged into a protracted lawsuit, your reputation ruined, and your investments would fail, leaving you penniless."

"It’s worse than that," Hawk said gravely. "Would you still want to collaborate with me? Would your family? Would they pressure Erica to break up with me? Then our partnership would collapse entirely. Twitter’s stock ownership could even spark a fight between us, turning into a life-or-death struggle."

Brian’s expression grew equally serious. Knowing his own family’s dynamics, he realized that everything Hawk said could very well come true.

"You’re right," Brian admitted. "With your abilities, it wouldn’t be hard to create trouble for the Ferguson family. They’d sit back and watch us destroy each other while profiting from the fallout."

Hawk’s voice turned icy. "From the start, they’ve planned to ruin me completely."

Brian nodded slightly, mulling over the risks and benefits. This wasn’t something the two of them could impulsively decide on.

Hawk continued, "One more thing: if these people have come after me, they’ve surely studied my past cases. They know that I usually rely on strategy to solve clients’ problems, rarely resorting to violence."

He looked at Brian. "Or are you planning to wait until they use similar tactics to target you? Once you’re out of the picture, Owen Nester will have no rivals."

Brian forced a smile. "I’m not as tough as you. I can’t handle that kind of pressure."

Ultimately, Hawk would leave the decision to Brian. Without Brian taking the lead, Hawk wouldn’t proceed.

The greatest risk, of course, would fall on Brian—he stood to gain the most.

"Taking the initiative is a hundred times easier than staying on the defensive," Hawk said.

"This isn’t a trivial matter," Brian replied. Unlike Hawk, he thought more deeply about the repercussions. "Let me think about it."

"Don’t take too long," Hawk warned. "They could launch a second wave of attacks at any moment."

Brian nodded. "I understand."

Hawk left the office and headed to Caroline’s room, only to find her appearance had changed.

Her golden bangs were gone, replaced by a honey-blonde ponytail. Instead of her usual pink outfits, she now wore a dark women’s suit. Even her red high heels had been swapped for more business-like black ones.

Seeing Hawk scrutinize her, Caroline stood up and smiled, revealing two small pointed teeth. "Doesn’t my new look suit my role as operations director?"

Hawk chuckled. "You’ve transformed from a sweet lamb into a black goat."

Her smile froze. Did the boss dislike it?

Hawk added, "I’m busy these days. You’ll handle daily operations. Frank’s downstairs—consult him if you need help."

Realizing Hawk was tackling something important, Caroline said, "Let me know if you need anything on the media side."

Hawk waved her off and left.

---

---

"Los Angeles Covina mayoral candidate Brian Ferguson suspected of having AIDS!"

The tweet was accompanied by photos of him entering and leaving a building with a woman in his arms, as well as a hospital receipt for a lab test.

The latter clearly indicated on the list of services that the test conducted was for AIDS detection.

Below that, there were several hundred words filled with attacks against him.

Brian, holding back his anger, read everything carefully.

The article’s message was clear: as a Covina mayoral candidate, Brian had an extremely disreputable personal life. It claimed he had repeatedly hired illegal prostitutes and hosted explicit parties at his residence in Covina, leading to multiple complaints from neighbors.

That AIDS lab test receipt was presented as the most damning evidence!

Reading this, Brian felt completely uneasy. Not only was his phobia of AIDS flaring up, but he also felt utterly exposed, as if someone had ripped off all his clothes and left him naked, with no privacy in front of the public.

“F**! F**!” Brian cursed a few times before grabbing his phone and dialing Hawk. “Get back here right now; there’s trouble!”

Hawk rushed back to the office as fast as he could. Walking in, he saw Brian, who was visibly furious, and asked, “What happened?”

Brian pointed to the computer screen. “Someone’s coming after me. I feel like a skinned pig being roasted for everyone to see!”

Hawk stood behind him and quickly scanned the content on the screen. “Someone at the clinic where your doctor works must have sold you out.”

Brian said, “Exactly. Only they would have this document.”

“We’ll deal with that later.” Hawk picked up the phone and called the tech department. “Kassim, activate the new algorithm and minimize the likelihood of Brian Ferguson appearing in the search results.”

Controlling the narrative on Twitter was just one of the new algorithm’s basic functions.

Hawk hung up and called Carolyn. “Reach out to the mainstream media outlets in Los Angeles and ask if they plan to publish any news about Brian.”

Turning back to Brian, he said, “Do you still have your lab results? Try to clarify this with the media, but don’t expect it to work well.”

Brian was furious. “I don’t have AIDS! Those bastards who got the payment receipt could just as easily get the test results!”

Hawk replied, “A mayoral candidate hiring illegal prostitutes and contracting AIDS fits the public’s expectations. As for a clarifying test result, they’ll just think it’s fake.”

“It was Grant’s team! It has to be them!” Brian was increasingly agitated. “I know Owen Nestor; this isn’t his style.”

Hawk said, “We haven’t even launched our offensive yet, and their attack has already landed.”

Brian said regretfully, “This is all my fault. You warned me, but I hesitated too long.”

Just then, the phone rang. Hawk walked over and answered it.

It was Carolyn. “Boss, I’ve contacted eight major mainstream newspapers. Three of them, including the Los Angeles Times, will publish news about Brian tomorrow.”

She added, “They’re all part of the deep-blue faction. I can’t handle them.”

“I see.” Hawk hung up and turned to Brian. “The deep-blue faction’s media outlets will publish your news widely tomorrow, including the Los Angeles Times.”

This was the largest newspaper in the Los Angeles area, with a substantial number of subscribers in Covina.

Brian, feeling the weight of the situation, fell silent for a moment before saying, “Take them down!”

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 185: Bullying

The next morning, the latest issue of The Los Angeles Times, released that day, featured news about Brian.

As one of North America’s three major newspapers, it didn’t engage in the reckless speculation typical of tabloids. It merely reported that Covina's mayoral candidate had undergone an AIDS test. However, to certain readers, it left the impression that Brian was particularly indiscreet.

From a legal perspective, it wasn’t significant—there were no laws barring an AIDS patient from running for office.

Besides, Brian wasn’t infected.

Yet invisible discrimination lingered everywhere.

Although Brian issued a clarification, its impact was only moderate.

In the office, Edward walked in carrying a pile of tabloids, placing them in front of Hawk and Brian.

Hawk picked up a widely circulated copy of The National Enquirer. On the front page of the second section, he saw a photo of Brian.

Shaking his head, Hawk smirked. “Man, you really know how to live it up—three models at once!”

The photo’s backdrop was a private beach. There were four people in the image: Brian and three women, whose figures alone marked them as models.

The group lay on the sand, with Brian sprawled across one model’s back, his hands firmly gripping the most prominent features of the two others—a textbook depiction of a playboy.

Edward grumbled in mock resentment, “You hang out with models and don’t invite me, your boss? Totally unfair.”

Brian’s face darkened, as if a storm were brewing. “When this photo was taken, I didn’t even know Hawk!”

Hawk commented, “Your past skeletons are coming out of the closet.”

“It’s those bastards!” Brian exclaimed, determined. “This team is clearly here to stir up trouble. We need to act quickly.”

Hawk responded decisively, “In practice, it’s up to your people to handle it.”

Brian, understanding this was about his future, didn’t hesitate. “No problem.”

He then asked, “Have we located the Grant team yet?”

Even with names and descriptions of the four people, finding them in sprawling Los Angeles was no easy task.

“Not yet,” Hawk replied, offering a strategy. “That team’s goal is to obstruct you and assist Owen Nestor’s campaign. They’ll have to contact Owen sooner or later. Keep an eye on him, and we’ll eventually find them.”

Brian quickly took out his phone and called another assistant, Bacon.

Bacon contacted a security firm controlled by the Ferguson family.

Edward glanced at Hawk and eagerly volunteered, “Boss?”

Known for his excellent driving and pursuit skills, Hawk gave Edward a slight nod.

Edward immediately left the office, grabbed the keys to an ordinary sedan, and drove off from Twitter headquarters, heading straight for Covina.

On the way, he called Campos.

As Edward exited the freeway and approached Covina, he noticed a two-meter-tall artificial orange landmark at the town’s main entrance.

Covina was famous for its orange groves and citrus processing.

Brian had mentioned before that the oversized faux orange at the entrance was a campaign stunt by Owen Nestor.

Edward drove toward City Hall and spotted Campos.

The two exchanged a distant glance without greeting each other.

Inside City Hall, Owen—a portly man in his forties with a receding hairline yet an air of authority—finished signing a document and called his driver. “Let’s visit the school.”

The two stepped outside and got into a Lexus, heading for East Middle School in Covina.

Edward and Campos tailed them in alternating patterns, keeping their distance.

Contrary to expectations, the Lexus stopped in front of a middle school.

Owen, wearing a grim expression, entered the school alone.

Edward and Campos, not daring to get too close, parked their cars at a distance and observed through binoculars.

Not long after, Owen emerged with a stocky, brown-haired boy and ushered him into the car.

As the Lexus pulled away, a pair of Mexican-American mother and son exited the school.

The boy stood at the gate, glaring angrily at the departing Lexus.

Campos, noticing the situation, called Edward. “You follow Owen. I’ll check out the mother and son.”

Edward tailed the Lexus at a safe distance.

Meanwhile, the mother and son got into an old Ford. Campos followed them in his car.

After about ten minutes, the Ford stopped in front of a small diner. The mother and son entered the restaurant.

After a brief wait, Campos also entered.

The Mexican-American woman stood behind the counter, while the boy had changed into a server’s uniform.

Seeing Campos enter with his own Mexican features, the woman greeted him warmly. “Hello! How can I help you?”

Campos glanced at the menu. “One Mexican tortilla, some grilled meat, and fries. Oh, and a Coke.”

The woman smiled. “Please wait a moment.”

As she passed the order to the kitchen, Campos discreetly looked inside. The kitchen staff consisted of an elderly couple.

This was clearly a family-run diner.

Campos sat down at a table.

Before long, the boy approached with a tray, setting down the food.

Campos handed him a two-dollar tip and casually asked, “Starting work so young? Aren’t you in school?”

“Thank you,” the boy replied politely, taking the tip. “I had something to take care of, so I got off early today.”

Campos noticed a bruise on the boy’s face. “Trouble with classmates?”

The boy didn’t respond but looked visibly angry.

“It’s okay,” Campos reassured him. “When I was your age, I often got bullied by white kids at school.” He spoke about a common issue in middle schools. “Bullying happens a lot. When it does, you have to fight back.”

The boy, also Mexican-American, muttered, “I can’t beat him.”

Campos encouraged him. “Any other Mexican kids in your class? Find a way to band together. Fight back as a group. If you don’t stand up to bullying, it only gets worse.”

From the counter, the woman called out, “Rod, the kitchen needs your help!”

---

---

“Thank you for the tip,” the boy said as he turned and headed back to the kitchen.

Campos finished his meal, left the restaurant, got into his car, and pulled out his notebook to jot down the name of the restaurant and someone named Rod.

He always adhered to Hawk's teachings: observe more, listen more, and take notes.

These details might come in handy someday.

As night fell, Campos called Edward, but there was nothing new to report that day.

Afterwards, the two of them switched shifts with Carlos and Garcia and returned to West Los Angeles.

Three days later, Edward finally made a breakthrough.

Owen Nestor was spotted driving alone to the financial district of Los Angeles and entering a private club.

Edward waited for a few minutes before noticing four individuals stepping out of a newly arrived Toyota Alphard.

He recognized their faces instantly—they matched the descriptions in Bryan’s dossier almost perfectly.

And there were three men and one woman.

Edward quickly called Campos and Hawk.

Inside the club, the group of four entered a meeting room and met Owen Nestor.

With a smile, Owen said, “The operation against that scumbag Bryan was a success. The media is flooded with negative stories about him, and his attempts to clear his name have been ineffective. Lately, he hasn’t dared to show his face in Covina.”

Grant, however, was cautious. “Don’t get too optimistic. Bryan is easy to deal with. The real problem is the man backing him.”

“Oh, right, you mentioned him before,” said Owen, who had lived in Covina his entire life and had a limited perspective. He dismissed the warning lightly. “What’s his name again?”

Hailey spoke solemnly, “His name is Hawk Osman. He’s the founder and CEO of Twitter! And keep this in mind—his expertise isn’t just in business; it’s in strategic consulting.”

Owen raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Just like you guys?”

Grant replied, “We launched an operation against him once, and it failed.”

Owen finally took things more seriously. “Why haven’t they taken any action against us besides issuing formal clarifications?”

“That’s exactly what worries us,” Augusto chimed in. “We’re waiting to see his next move.”

Madison added, “He prefers to operate from the shadows, using schemes to take people down.”

Hearing how seriously the four spoke, Owen grew concerned. “When are you coming to Covina?”

Grant answered, “No rush. We’ll first see what Hawk Osman plans to do.”

Owen said, “You’d better hurry. That scumbag Bryan is about to set up his campaign office.”

Meanwhile, a black SUV pulled into the club’s parking lot.

In the back seat, Hawk and Bryan each picked up a pair of binoculars and scanned the club through the car’s tinted windows.

Soon, they spotted the Toyota Alphard Edward had mentioned.

After about thirty minutes, four people emerged from the club and got into the vehicle.

Hawk observed them carefully and confirmed, “Yes, it’s them.”

Bryan, having reviewed their photos multiple times, said confidently, “Without a doubt.”

Hawk made a call. “Track them, but don’t let them notice.”

Shortly after, another person walked out of the club. Bryan pointed him out. “That bald guy is Owen Nestor.”

Hawk, already familiar with Owen’s detailed profile, recognized him immediately. “No doubt about it.”

To track their movements, Campos, Edward, and four additional vehicles were stationed at various intersections nearby.

It didn’t take long for Hawk to receive a report.

Edward called, “Boss, we found their base. The four of them rented an office in the Aon Center building in the financial district. We didn’t dig too deep to avoid tipping them off.”

Hawk issued orders directly, “You and Campos take turns watching their movements and vehicles closely.”

“Got it,” Edward replied before hanging up.

Hawk put away his phone and turned to Bryan. “We’ve found them. Have you secured the right people for the job?”

Bryan, enraged by the recent media attacks, smirked viciously. “I’ve got the people and vehicles ready. We’ve also prepared several plans for both success and retreat.”

In other places, the Ferguson family might not have this much influence, but this was their stronghold—Los Angeles.

Despite their meticulous planning, things didn’t go as expected. For days, Edward, Campos, and the others kept watch, but the four targets rarely left their office, leaving no good opportunities.

Bryan grew increasingly anxious as the relentless media slander placed enormous pressure on him.

It’s hard for anyone to stay calm while seeing their scandals plastered across the media daily.

He turned to Hawk in frustration. “What do we do now?”

Hawk thought it over carefully and considered things from their perspective. “They struck first this time, and we haven’t given a strong response. They’re likely waiting for our next move.”

After a moment of deliberation, he said, “Isn’t your campaign office about to be set up? Make a big splash with it.”

(End of chapter)