101-105

Chapter 101: Siding with the Outsider

"Miss, I know this may upset you, but I still suggest you consider changing the location."

In Manhattan, along the streets of the Flatiron District...

Inside a stretched Lincoln limousine, the middle-aged woman in the passenger seat turned to address the elegantly dressed Arianna Rockefeller in the backseat.

"This is a minor issue. I don’t think Mr. Blackburn will mind."

"But I mind."

Arianna’s expression remained calm as she looked at the woman. "Nanny Charlotte, I invited Milo here. He’s waiting for me in the restaurant now. And you’re suggesting I go elsewhere? What do you think my fiancé would make of that?"

Charlotte hesitated, tempted to respond, He’s not your fiancé yet.  

But the reality was practically set in stone.

Neither the Rockefellers nor the Blackburns were likely to back out now.

Arianna wasn’t wrong either, leaving Charlotte with no choice but to speak softly, "But young Arthur brought word that a large number of reporters have gathered outside the restaurant. They followed Mr. Blackburn here, and he may have... motives."

"You’re suggesting he’s trying to use me?"

"I didn’t mean that..." Charlotte quickly clarified.

"Even if he is, I’ll still go."

Arianna’s eyes locked on Charlotte, her expression resolute. "Ours is a union by marriage—a partnership. If that’s the case, wouldn’t it be normal for him to use me?"

But right now, it’s Morgan targeting him.

Though it was only a small faction of the giant Morgan empire, tensions between Morgan and the Rockefellers were critical at the moment.

Getting too close to him now might ruffle feathers within your family.

These thoughts, Charlotte dared not voice aloud.

Because, in a way, Arianna wasn’t wrong either.

Morgan and the Rockefellers were allies—key collaborators.

And Blackburn? He was no less significant.

From Arianna’s perspective, Blackburn might be even more crucial.

In the future, Blackburn would be her marital family. The Rockefellers, merely her birth family.

For Arianna, deciding whether her marital or birth family would hold more sway in the future was uncertain.

"Nanny, tell the reporters from The Salzburg Chronicle..."

From the distance, the Eleven Madison Park restaurant was already visible.

Under the evening sky, a sea of reporters surrounded the restaurant, cameras poised.

Before stepping out, Arianna gave Charlotte a final instruction. "Ask the Salzburg reporters to make sure the photos of me and my future husband turn out flattering."

With that, Arianna, though still young, elegantly dressed, and poised, stepped out of the car with a smile.

The moment she emerged, the area erupted into a blinding storm of flashing lights.

For those untrained, it would be easy to get momentarily blinded by the flashes.

But not Arianna.

Her family education included training for just such moments.

At under 15, the young Rockefeller heiress had prepared extensively for this day.

Now, for the first time, she appeared before the social media-hungry public.

Inside the restaurant, Milo had just finished two small desserts.

Suddenly, a loud clap of thunder roared outside.

Then came the constant drumming of raindrops.

Milo stood and walked to the window, observing the rainy street below.

A sudden New York spring rain poured down, creating a foggy haze over the city.

He spotted the drenched, scrambling reporters and a hurried but composed Arianna entering the restaurant.

She was dressed elaborately tonight.

In a white woolen dress, intricately woven with patterns and trimmed with silk lace, Arianna looked both youthful and refined.

A thin pearl necklace adorned her neck, and she carried a small, gift-wrapped box, blending the charm of a young girl with the innocence of her age.

"Milo! Sorry I’m late," Arianna greeted him with a smile as she approached.

"Aren’t you cold?" Milo asked with concern. "The rain came so suddenly..."

Arianna glanced at him warmly. "I’m fine."

"Let’s go. I don’t know about you, but I didn’t have any tea this afternoon, so I’m a bit hungry," Milo said naturally, taking her free hand and leading her toward the table.

His gesture was so natural, it was as if they’d always been like this.

At the entrance, Charlotte, who had just hurried inside, noticed this scene.

She thought to herself, No wonder Miss Arianna is being so proactive. This young Blackburn heir is even more handsome in person than in photos or videos.  

Before they reached the table, Arianna laughed and held up the gift box. "Here’s your birthday present!"

Milo accepted it and helped Arianna into her seat. After she sweetly thanked him, he returned to his own seat with the gift in hand.

"Can I open it now, or should I wait until later?" he asked with a smile.

"It’s yours now. You can do whatever you want with it," Arianna replied sweetly.

"Alright then."

Milo began unwrapping the present as Arianna explained.

"I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I asked my mom, dad, brother, and grandpa. Three of them suggested a wristwatch, but I noticed you already wear one."

"So I decided to give you this—a pocket watch!"

Milo finished unwrapping the gift. Inside lay a beautiful platinum pocket watch.

"It’s not something I bought..."

Noticing Milo examining it, Arianna leaned closer and whispered mischievously, "I stole it from my grandfather’s study! He once told me it belonged to my great-grandfather and was given to him as a birthday gift. My brother tried to get it from him but was refused!"

Under the restaurant’s warm lighting, the watch gleamed.

The delicate patterns etched on its surface, the golden casing subtly shimmering, seemed to hold whispers of bygone eras.

The finely engraved Roman numerals and hands exuded timeless elegance, and the face of the watch appeared to depict a map.

Upon closer inspection, Milo realized it was indeed a map—an incomplete one of New York, seemingly from the last century.

Arianna’s great-grandfather was the legendary young Rockefeller, once the "King of New York."

It made perfect sense for his pocket watch to feature a map of the city.

"It’s beautiful. I love it," Milo said warmly, looking at Arianna. "But... won’t David be upset? If I wear this to your house, will he try to punch me and take it back?"

"Ha ha!"

Arianna giggled, her laughter bright and pure. "Then I’ll just steal it back. I know all my grandpa’s hiding spots!"

Her tone and demeanor made it clear—her loyalty was already leaning outward.

(End of Chapter)  

*Chapter 102: Reactions from All Sides*

The next day, the U.S. media was abuzz.

No, it was practically festive.

Almost every newspaper featured photos of Milo and Ariana on their date.

A handsome man & a cute young lady.

Flowers & a passionate kiss.

Utterly romantic.

And almost every publication made sure to highlight that the young lady’s surname was Rockefeller.

The name Rockefeller in the U.S. is hard to fathom for those not native to the country.

Roughly speaking… it carries the same weight as a few notable surnames across the Pacific.

Especially since Americans are far less reserved about such matters.

Thus, the recent wave of media criticism surrounding Milo in financial circles evaporated entirely under the impact of this scandalous yet captivating news.

---

In Beverly Hills, Los Angeles, Zeta-Jones was clad in nothing but a silk nightgown as she flung a newspaper aside, her expression deeply disappointed.

Meanwhile, two of Milo’s other “girlfriends,” also in Los Angeles, had differing reactions to the news and photos.

Julie Delpy simply laughed, shrugged, and lost interest.

As for Cate Blanchett, she barely glanced at the headlines before returning to her work as if nothing had happened.

Monica, however, was visibly upset upon learning the news. She clutched the photo of Milo kissing Ariana tightly in her hand until the paper crumpled beyond recognition.

---

In Plymouth, Massachusetts.

Old John, sipping afternoon tea with his son Joseph, glanced at the newspaper and remarked with a smile:

“This girl seems nice. Milo must really like her.”

Milo’s father, Joseph, nodded with a pleased smile. The news delighted him.

This development essentially secured his election this year.

It was already a sure thing, but who wouldn’t want extra reassurance?

And if they could win Rockefeller support? Well, perhaps in a couple of years… he might even consider a run for the Senate!

Only Robin, sitting nearby, looked disinterested.

If it were up to her, she’d prefer her son marry her brother’s daughter.

But doing so would go against biological conventions.

Even though modern science could screen for unfit offspring…

Many families did it.

Still, the process was troublesome and taxing on the woman’s health.

Besides, the Bush family already had alliances with the Blackburns.

At least for Milo’s generation, there was no need to strengthen those ties further.

What’s more, Texas seemed quite content with this development.

Not long ago, when Edward Rockefeller visited Plymouth, her father, Herbert, personally hosted him.

Herbert even mentioned to her that a union between Milo and Ariana wouldn’t just strengthen the Rockefeller-Blackburn relationship—it could also solidify ties between the Blackburn and Bush families.

Robin understood this point. After all, her grandfather had once managed an oil company for the younger Rockefeller.

The men in her family were all in favor of this match.

Knowing her place as a homemaker, Robin wisely let go of her personal ambitions.

She, too, began supporting the idea.

---

In downtown San Francisco.

At the First National Bank of Boston’s San Francisco branch, Hector Cabrera, a venture capital director, stood by a floor-to-ceiling window, gazing at the bustling city below while on the phone.

“There’s no way around it—they chose Blackburn.”

“Honestly, there’s no need to overthink it. Even if they hadn’t chosen Blackburn, they’d have picked someone else. Let’s face it, Cabreras have always married young.”

“I get it. It’s fortunate Boston moves so slowly. They’ve been dithering for ages without reaching a consensus. Now, look at this—Rockefeller has swooped in.”

“My opinion? I still think we should collaborate. Being on the West Coast, I can see it—just as Milo said—the internet holds immense potential, whether for exploitation or genuine development.”

“Alright, let’s go with that.”

Hector hung up and stared pensively at the traffic below.

The Boston faction had reacted strongly to the Rockefeller-Blackburn union.

It was as though their immune system had detected an invasive virus.

But Hector saw no need for alarm.

After all, among the Boston families, alliances were nothing new.

Craig Baird’s mother, for instance, was the niece of a Morgan family member.

And Hector’s brother-in-law, the current heir of the Lawrence family, had married a Mellon.

So, really, what’s one more Rockefeller in the mix?

Hector was unfazed, perhaps because of his close friendship with Milo and his faction’s proximity to the Blackburns.

When his brother-in-law, David Lawrence, called earlier, Hector had brushed it off.

If the Lawrences could light fires, why couldn’t the Blackburns launch fireworks?

---

Still in the Bay Area, but not San Francisco.

In Mountain View, Santa Clara, amidst the scenic suburbs.

Jerry Yang hurriedly pushed open the gate of a sleek, modern villa.

He looked anxious as he walked briskly inside.

Upon spotting a woman dressed in white—a housekeeper—he asked urgently,

“Where’s David? I couldn’t get through to him!”

“Mr. Filo is still in his room sleeping. Last night’s party ran late; he only went to bed early this morning…”

Jerry Yang wasn’t surprised by her answer.

He’d attended the same party the night before, hosted by his partner, David Filo, to celebrate the purchase of this stunning villa.

But midway through the festivities, David broke out some "quality goods" from Southern California.

A crowd of so-called Silicon Valley elites indulged heavily.

As a Chinese-American, Jerry Yang wasn’t into that scene.

He made an excuse to leave early, unlike David and the others, who partied until dawn.

However, by noon, Jerry had come across the ubiquitous headlines about Milo and Ariana.

The more he read, the more uneasy he felt. With no one else to consult, he had no choice but to wake David, no matter how deeply he was sleeping.

---

Compared to the external uproar.

One of the central figures in this whirlwind of gossip, Milo, wasn’t concerned in the slightest.

Last night, the Rockefeller family’s little lady seemed somewhat smitten with him.

In the future, people on the internet might call it "simping."

Whether it was genuine or a façade, it pleased Milo immensely.

The following morning, Milo maintained his usual routine:

A morning run, a shower, breakfast, and then off to work.

Although there was nothing urgent on his agenda, he had grown accustomed to visiting his investment firm daily.

Most of his wealth was tied up in the firm, and he preferred to keep a close eye on it.

Even though he had personally selected the firm’s finance and legal teams,

No investment exceeding $10 million could proceed without his signature.

Similarly, any expense over $1 million required his approval.

This level of vigilance didn’t extend to his film or copyright companies, which he left under Wendy’s management.

Especially the copyright company, where funds were tightly capped at $1 million.

Every transaction required Milo’s approval, keeping financial irregularities in check.

Still, no matter how much he trusted Wendy, Milo knew better than to let her hold unchecked power for too long.

Trust needs oversight.

As his business empire grew, Milo would eventually ask Wendy to choose:

Would she oversee the film company? Manage the copyright business?

Or return to his side as the head of his family office?

Wendy would have to decide.

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 103: This Makes Perfect Sense*

Over the vast expanse of North America, a Gulfstream IV-SP private jet cruised westward.

At this time, Gulfstream Aerospace, a subsidiary of General Dynamics, was already a world-renowned private jet manufacturer.

However, the later series of Gulfstream GXX jets had not yet been introduced.

In a few years, Gulfstream would revamp its naming conventions. From then on, all its jets would follow the G+number format.

Before that, the Gulfstream IV series was the flagship.

The IV-SP was an upgraded version of the Gulfstream IV, larger and heavier, with improved payload capacity and range.

A flight from New York to Los Angeles took six hours.

Inside the private jet, Milo lay on a recliner 30,000 feet above ground, wearing an eye mask and taking a light nap.

It was March 7th.

After wrapping up affairs at the investment firm and seeing Arianna off to Harvard, Milo was on his way back to the West Coast.

After all, besides the investment company, most of his assets and businesses were in San Francisco and Los Angeles.

When the private jet slowly taxied to a stop at a private terminal at LAX, it was already late at night.

Milo donned a black trench coat; the wind in Los Angeles was brisk tonight.

As he descended the stairs, the wind whipped his coat, creating a dramatic flapping sound.

Without delay, he ducked into an inconspicuous black Chevrolet SUV that quickly drove away from the terminal.

In the Hollywood Hills of Beverly Hills, despite the late hour, the area remained brightly lit.

Even though the lavish mansions were surrounded by dense vegetation, their exteriors glowed under floodlights.

The SUV ascended the winding mountain road at a moderate pace.

Late night in Beverly Hills often marked the height of Hollywood parties. Occasionally, convertibles roared down the hills, filled with carefree laughter and shouts.

Inside the dimly lit SUV, the passing streetlights cast flickering shadows on Milo’s face, making his sharp eyes gleam even brighter.

The car entered a wooded area, took a turn onto a secluded path, and stopped amidst dense shrubs.

Raising the collar of his trench coat, Milo stepped out, quickly moving towards an artistically designed iron gate hidden among the bushes.

Kenny, holding a satellite phone, had already notified the other party to open the gate in advance.

Milo stepped through and was greeted by one of his black-suited female bodyguards—one of three he had stationed in Beverly Hills.

He nodded slightly in acknowledgment and asked, “Is she asleep?”

“No, she’s been waiting for you.”

“Good. Thanks.”

Milo crossed the lawn and entered the villa. Passing through the corridor, he found the living room dimly lit by a few warm lamps.

The television was on, but the volume was low.

Throwing his trench coat onto the couch, Milo eagerly climbed the stairs.

Pushing open the bedroom door, he was greeted by a captivating sight.

Zeta-Jones, her golden hair cascading down, lay half-reclined on the bed, her head propped on her hand. She wore a scanty red silk slip, her delicate smile and sultry demeanor amplified by her languid pose.

Her slender legs shifted seductively as her eyes sparkled with mischief.

Her barely-there slip highlighted her ample curves, a sight that made Milo’s eyes narrow with delight. Closing the door behind him, he approached while smoothly shedding his attire.

“My dear, you’re stunning tonight!”

“Giggle… Then what are you waiting for?”

What followed was a passionate encounter.

The sounds drifted through the imperfectly closed door.

Downstairs, Milo’s personal assistant, Monica Bellucci, rolled her eyes as she worked on some files.

Still, she refrained from joining the upstairs festivities.

For one, her time alone in New York had left her feeling indulgent enough; there was no need to add to Zeta-Jones’s joy.

### The Next Morning, 11:00 AM

*Los Angeles Police Department Headquarters (LAPD)*

With over 9,900 officers and 3,000 civilian staff, LAPD’s jurisdiction covers 1,230 square kilometers, serving a population of over 3.8 million. It is one of the largest law enforcement agencies in the United States.

Of course, the NYPD remains the largest, with over 50,000 employees.

Click, click, click!  

At the entrance of LAPD Headquarters, Milo was surrounded by smiling LAPD officers.

Amid the constant clicking of cameras, he shook hands and posed for photos with the LAPD Chief, the San Francisco Police Chief, and California Attorney General Willie Brown.

“… Today, I stand here full of respect for the guardians of our city, the architects of our peace and safety,” Milo began his brief speech.

“… They work tirelessly, day and night, to protect our homes, leaving no room for crime and ensuring justice prevails. Their dedication is the cornerstone of our peaceful lives and the foundation of a stable society.”

“… Let us work together to create a safer and freer environment for all!”

“Thank you!”

Under the journalists' flashbulbs, Milo embraced Willie Brown and eleven police chiefs before entering LAPD Headquarters, where a party awaited him.

This grand reception was thanks to Milo’s generous donation of $4.5 million to various California police department foundations.

In the U.S., individuals and companies can donate to police departments.

For instance, California’s "11-99 Foundation" provides aid to highway patrol officers. Donors who contribute $1,800 receive an "11-99 license plate frame," signaling their support.

Such a frame often earns the donor leniency on the road, allowing some to “fly” without fear of tickets.

Milo’s donation was unprecedented, making it the largest ever received by California police.

As for Willie Brown, while he didn’t oversee the police, his wife’s charity had recently received $1 million in donations—an undeniable coincidence.

Brown, conveniently in Los Angeles on business, couldn’t resist joining in the celebration.

*This makes perfect sense.*

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 104: He Gave Too Much*

In America, corruption is omnipresent, taking various forms.

In fact, U.S. citizens spend a lot on supporting corrupt officials.

Every year, the amount of money embezzled in the U.S. reaches trillions, not even counting "legal corruption."

In at least a dozen states, attorneys general openly work for energy companies in exchange for political donations.

Other attorneys general are equally busy, partnering with pharmaceutical, chemical, and financial giants.

Everyone has their collaborators, and everyone envisions a bright future for themselves.

Corporate tycoons "donate" to help their chosen candidates gain office, and once elected, these officials return the favor by granting various "privileges."

If the U.S. were to launch a serious anti-corruption campaign, from county governments to the White House, the entire system would be left empty.

The 536 members of Congress would also all be out of a job... including Milo’s father.

To be honest, Milo had been considering donating to the California police for some time.

It’s not that he has too much money to spend—it’s about ensuring his personal safety.

Here’s the deal:

In America, you can’t simply think of the police as public order enforcers.

You should think of American police as private "security guards."

And as security guards, of course, they work for whoever pays them the most.

This is why, in American neighborhoods, wealthy communities that pay higher property taxes and regularly donate often enjoy better security.

In ordinary communities, you might not see a police car all day.

But in affluent neighborhoods, even an unfamiliar license plate driving by could prompt immediate questioning by the stationed police.

This time, Milo donated $10 million directly to the LAPD.

Although no one explicitly said it, it’s almost certain:

Wherever Milo resides in Los Angeles, the number of patrolling LAPD officers will skyrocket exponentially.

The same goes for the other California police departments that received donations.

When it comes to getting things done for money, whether it’s U.S. politicians or police officers, their credibility is impeccable.

If you don’t honor such deals, nobody will donate to you next time—no campaign funds, no support.

So, Commissioner Smith, how will you advance your career?

Milo hadn’t done this before because he didn’t have the money.

Back then, his net worth was just a few tens of millions, most of which was tied up in Silicon Valley or filmmaking.

Other people don’t donate millions to the police either—simply because they can’t afford it.

For example, Bill Gates is plenty wealthy, right?

Last year’s richest man in the world, Forbes listed his net worth at $12.9 billion.

But without loans, mortgages, or liquidating Microsoft shares and real estate, it would be hard for Bill Gates to come up with $200 million in cash.

Milo’s newfound confidence came after his recent Wall Street escapades.

Now, he could begin executing his plans more boldly.

“...Seeing so many crime fighters and paragons of justice gathered together fills me with both pride and joy!”

On the lawn of the Los Angeles Police Department, which had been temporarily set up as a party venue, California Attorney General Willie Brown smiled warmly.

He turned to Milo and several police chiefs nearby, beaming as he spoke.

“Couldn’t agree more!”

LAPD Chief Willie L. Williams clinked glasses with San Francisco Police Chief Robert Lester. “Robert and I haven’t seen each other in five years. Thanks to Mr. Blackburn, we’re finally reunited. What a joyous day!”

Of course, what made the day even happier was the $10 million donation and the Harvard University acceptance letter his son had just received.

“You’re absolutely right, Willie and Mr. Brown!” Robert Lester chuckled.

“If everyone were like Mr. Blackburn, California’s public safety would be unparalleled!”

Robert Lester was feeling relaxed.

Why wouldn’t he be, after hearing from his wife in D.C. just yesterday that she’d been officially hired by the Federal Circuit Court of Appeals?

“This is just what any good citizen should do,” Milo said graciously, exuding gentlemanly charm. “Everyone supports the police in their own way. I just happen to support them with donations—because, well, I’ve got a bit of extra money.”

Looking at the young man’s seemingly humble yet undeniably audacious words, everyone, including the attorney general, laughed along.

After all, how could they not, given how much he had donated?

Standing beside Willie Brown was a striking woman with a stunning figure, seemingly in her early 30s.

She had introduced herself earlier as Kamala Devi, a member of both the California Medical Assistance Commission and the California Unemployment Insurance Appeals Board.

These positions brought Kamala an annual income exceeding $200,000, though she didn’t actually have to do any work. Her real job was simply to keep the 60-year-old attorney general happy.

Kamala laughed at everyone’s jokes, often before they even finished speaking.

Her behavior made it impossible for Milo not to notice her.

Frankly, she shouldn’t be called Kamala Devi; “Laughing Kamala” seemed more fitting.

Still, despite her obvious flirtation—even with Willie Brown right there—Milo wasn’t interested.

While her figure was impressive, her looks weren’t his type. Milo preferred fair-skinned beauties, and he was nothing if not devoted.

Ignoring Kamala’s increasingly bold signals, Milo continued chatting and laughing with the police chiefs and the attorney general.

The gathering lasted until the afternoon, at which point Milo left the police department under Kamala’s wistful gaze.

By now, all the cars in Milo’s motorcade were equipped with 11-99 license plate frames, personally installed by LAPD officers with smiles on their faces.

They even sent Milo off with a whole truckload of spare 11-99 frames.

As Milo’s convoy pulled out, several LAPD patrol cars coincidentally began their shifts, surrounding and escorting his motorcade as they left the premises.

“Whew…”

Inside the car, Milo exhaled and chuckled at Wendy, seated in the front passenger seat.

“Well, that’s one greedy pack of wolves taken care of. Now we can get a lot more done.”

Wendy laughed and shrugged. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they wanted to send a hundred patrol cars to escort us right now.”

Although she joked, Wendy couldn’t quite understand why Milo had donated so much money.

All that beautiful green cash, gone.

Sure, the LAPD and the other California police forces were now on his side, but wasn’t this a bit excessive?

Wouldn’t it have been easier—and cheaper—to just cozy up to some local power brokers?

It might’ve been more effort, but it wouldn’t have cost nearly as much.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 105: The Media Group

It wasn’t just Wendy who didn’t understand; even the police chiefs and Willie Brown, who received the money, were puzzled.

Robert Lester, the boss of San Francisco, even had a hushed discussion with Willie L. Williams, the boss of Los Angeles.

They were suspicious—was Milo spending so much money to plot an assassination of the U.S. president in California?

But they hadn’t heard anything about the president planning a visit to California anytime soon.

When accepting the money, they felt a bit uneasy.

But those crisp, green dollars were too tempting.

Worry as they might, they still accepted the money without hesitation.

They feared that if they didn’t take it, their subordinates might misunderstand them and *BIU* them the next day at work.

This reflects the darker side of capitalism under Western values.

In Western values, especially American ones, when a businessman spends one dollar on an official, it often means the official will generate ten dollars or more in profits for the businessman.

In other words, if one dollar couldn’t yield ten dollars in return, few American businessmen would bother spending money on officials.

Based on this perspective, Milo’s donation of tens of millions suggested he was aiming to make hundreds of millions in return.

However, in some respects, America’s police departments are relatively clean when it comes to profiteering.

Aside from wasting budgets and occasionally *BIU-ing* people, there aren’t many ways for them to generate big profits for businessmen.

Not even the guns and equipment are worth much.

Milo’s over 40 million dollars—he might as well have used it to fully upgrade their equipment.

If he were looking to profit from this, it would take forever.

The real money-making opportunities in the U.S. government lie with the various levels of legislatures and administrative departments.

For this reason, when it comes to donations and political contributions, police departments and their chiefs have always been less fortunate compared to other departments.

The risks are also higher—officers could be *BIU-ed* on the streets at any moment.

This has led them to develop a proactive “strike first” mentality.

You can see this in the fact that, for just $1,800, you can get an 11-99 license plate frame, which essentially makes California police consider you “one of their own.”

But to get legislators and government departments to see you as “one of their own,” you’d likely have to donate $180,000, or even $1.8 million, just to get noticed.

Wealthy individuals aren’t unwilling to donate to police departments; their donations are just far more purpose-driven.

Milo’s approach, donating such a large sum at once without a clear purpose, left them feeling anxious.

This was especially true for the police departments in San Francisco and Los Angeles, which received the most money.

These departments became more vigilant.

Internally, they quietly set up special patrol units.

These units didn’t exist on paper or in reports; they were only an internal understanding within the police departments.

The sole purpose of these units was to protect their biggest benefactor.

To motivate their subordinates, Robert Lester and Willie L. Williams offered additional benefits to officers who joined these units.

For example, California officers participating in these units could receive extra subsidies from the foundation.

In short, Milo’s donation brought about significant changes in police departments across California.

---

Meanwhile, after leaving the Los Angeles Police Department, Milo returned to his film company in Hollywood after over a month’s absence.

Per his request, the company had been rebranded two weeks earlier.

It was now named Paladin Media Group.

Although called a media group, it currently only had one film company under its umbrella.

The office space had expanded, though.

Previously occupying just two floors of an office building, the company had now rented the entire 13-story building.

Five floors were dedicated to the film company’s operations, the top floor was Milo’s personal office, and the remaining seven floors were temporarily vacant.

This building had a prime location, directly facing the iconic Hollywood sign.

---

In Milo’s top-floor office that afternoon, he was in a meeting with his advisory team.

The team’s chief advisor, Shabtai West, had extensive experience in investment banking and commercial banking, and he had also worked as a lobbying expert on Washington’s K Street.

Shabtai had an extensive network and was highly skilled at interacting with various people. Recruiting him through a headhunting firm had been a challenging and costly endeavor for Milo.

Aside from Shabtai, the advisory team had four other members. However, the image and public relations consultant, Karen Hughes, only spent half her time with Milo, as she also worked for the governor of Texas.

Fortunately, today’s meeting didn’t involve personal image or public relations, so Hughes’ absence wasn’t an issue.

“...A media company with a massive television network has far more influence than those limited to print media. Modern people may not read newspapers or listen to the radio, but they will watch TV.”

Chris Carey, a media expert on the advisory team who had held senior positions at Columbia Pictures and NBC, spoke passionately.

The reason for today’s meeting was a task Milo had assigned a few days earlier:

To plan the businesses and departments a media group should have.

Whether it was television networks or print media, the goal was to acquire them and integrate them.

---

Chris highlighted the challenges:

“The major networks are difficult. ABC and CBS have recently changed ownership; Disney and Viacom wouldn’t sell them. NBC is operating well and has no intention of selling, while Fox is firmly held by News Corp.”

Shabtai West summarized, “So, given the current situation, we have two options: acquire smaller networks or collaborate with major networks to purchase one or several of their channels.”

Milo sighed and rubbed his fingers with frustration.

If he had been reborn a few years earlier, he might have had a shot at acquiring CBS or ABC.

But now, CBS was untouchable, backed by the oil magnates—it was the first television network they controlled in the U.S. Taking CBS from them would be impossible, even for Rockefeller or Morgan.

ABC was also out of reach, as Disney valued it highly.

Even after ABC suffered ten consecutive years of losses post-acquisition, Disney never considered selling it.

Of course, he could buy a channel from another network and gradually build it up to a national level.

This wouldn’t be difficult, given the high-rated TV shows and variety programs in his head.

He could also focus on the internet, which would soon disrupt the music and publishing industries, with online TV becoming commonplace within a decade.

If he capitalized on these opportunities, he could become a major player in the new media industry.

However, both paths would leave him constrained for a long time.

The former, especially, was frustrating.

“Damn television networks,” Milo muttered, snapping out of his thoughts. He looked at his advisors.

“You’ve given me bad news, but I trust you also have some good news. That’s why I hired you.”