11-15

Chapter 11: From Passive to Active

At the villa’s pool party,

Wendy was the one who guided Michael Eisner in.

That was just how Wendy operated—Milo only needed to enjoy himself, but Wendy had a lot more to think about.

"Good evening, Mr. Eisner~ Would you like a drink?"

Michael Eisner, dressed in a suit, entered.

He saw a young man in the pool, with a woman on each arm.

The young man greeted him with a smile, raising his glass of red wine in a friendly toast.

Before coming here, Michael had reviewed Milo’s profile and photos.

They had met briefly at a past event.

Michael Eisner recognized him immediately. The man in front of him was exactly the one he had been hoping to find tonight.

The Disney tyrant smiled.

“Good evening, Mr. Blackburn.”

As he spoke, he accepted a glass of champagne from a bunny girl’s tray and motioned toward Milo, still lounging in the pool.

Michael said, “May we talk, Mr. Blackburn?”

Milo wasn’t eager to get out of the pool.

The women around him were already quite enthusiastic, and their attention only increased when they saw such a high-profile figure like Michael Eisner arrive.

Their overzealous behavior had one effect—

Milo’s arousal grew rapidly, and he was almost at the point of losing control.

At that moment, he was more inclined to enjoy himself with the women than to discuss business with an older man.

But the pleading look from Wendy and his own sense of reason told him it was best to go ahead and talk.

Reluctantly pulling away from the women, whose expressions had shifted from their professional smiles to something a bit more fervent, Milo stood and climbed out of the pool.

He accepted a towel from a bunny girl, drying himself off as he made his way to Michael Eisner and his group.

When Milo reached them, Michael Eisner turned to Wendy and said, “Wendy, could you arrange a room for me and Mr. Blackburn to speak?”

“No need,” Milo replied with a smile. “Let’s stay here, I don’t want to be too far from the lovely ladies.”

Michael glanced at Wendy, who gave him a shrug and a look that seemed to say, “He’s always like this.”

Resigned, Michael sat down in one of the beach chairs by the poolside, following Milo’s lead.

Of course, Milo knew the conversation with Eisner wasn’t something that could be discussed in front of too many people.

He motioned for the women to keep their distance.

This way, their conversation wouldn’t be overheard.

Milo was well aware of Michael Eisner’s intentions.

It was nothing more than the familiar game of power and money he had grown up with in his previous life.

Wendy had already given him a heads-up and explained what he should do, so Milo knew exactly how to proceed.

“My father once told me that he admired Walt Disney and Roy Disney and thought their creation of American icons was a huge success.”

Milo spoke calmly, holding his wine glass and wearing a gentle smile.

The Disney executives around him listened attentively, with no signs of impatience.

“I’ve loved Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck since I was a child, and now I have the chance to make them even stronger. I’d be more than happy to do so.”

As Milo spoke, the Disney higher-ups’ eyes lit up.

Michael Eisner smiled, clearly pleased, though he knew this wasn’t going to be a tough sell.

It was something that would benefit both sides.

Disney would have fewer headaches.

Blackburn would gain Disney’s gratitude.

In America, this was the basic rule of the game.

Everyone knew the rules, and everyone played by them.

Wendy, seeing that Milo had finished speaking, gave him a nod, signaling him to wrap it up. The fat man clapped his hands and laughed.

“Alright, alright, everyone, let’s not talk business tonight. Let’s just enjoy the evening!”

This was a hint that the details should be left for the professionals to discuss later.

Michael Eisner stood up with a smile and said to Milo, “I have a flight to New York soon, so I won’t keep Mr. Blackburn from enjoying the rest of his evening.”

“Won’t you have another drink?”

“Sorry, maybe next time.”

Michael Eisner was determined to leave, and Milo didn’t try to stop him.

The Disney tyrant and his entourage exited as quickly as they arrived.

As soon as Michael left, the previously quiet mermaids in the pool suddenly became lively.

A group of women started giggling and giving him flirty looks, some even licking their lips toward him.

They were far more forward now than before.

Milo, of course, understood the reason.

They had just watched Michael Eisner chatting and drinking with him, and now they saw an opportunity.

“Leave it to you,” Milo said to Wendy. “You’re the only one who knows what I want, dear Wendy.”

The fat man nodded and smiled. “Hey, we’ve been in LA for six years. Finally, you’re thinking about doing some serious business!”

Milo slapped Wendy’s belly and laughed, “Get lost! I’ve always been doing serious business.”

Wendy grinned, teasing, “By the way, why are you so shy tonight? Normally, by now, you’d be getting some exercise.”

Wendy pointed toward the girls around the pool, his voice low. “They know what happens at these parties. The girls tonight are fresh and clean, no worries, but how many you can get is up to your skills.”

Milo played it cool on the outside, but he knew deep down that Wendy was right.

He was feeling shy!

The one in control of his body now was his soul, the well-behaved young man from the East, not the reckless playboy he once was.

When it came time to take action, the nervousness and shyness were inevitable.

Once he returned to the water, the tall, seductive women around him were even more forward than before.

There were constant touches on his body, fingers brushing against his skin, and some women even pressed themselves against him with the softest parts of their bodies.

It kept him hard the entire time.

As Wendy went off to handle business, Milo quickly picked his target.

In his view, a beautiful face with the perfect blend of Eastern and Western features, golden hair, and a sultry body: Zeta Jones.

It was odd—he had looked for her earlier but couldn’t find her. Now, just when he was trying to relax, she appeared.

And she wasn’t alone—two other beautiful women were with her.

The three of them gave off the impression that they were a team, subtly distancing themselves from the rest of the crowd.

Zeta Jones was indeed stunning, her figure fiery hot.

Standing at 5'8", her 36C bust was nearly spilling out of her tiny bikini, her body full and curvy.

At 25, her skin was so soft, it looked like you could squeeze water out of it—extremely sexy.

She was a Hollywood star known for her beauty and sensuality.

Her looks and body were obviously outstanding and carefully cultivated.

After some subtle back-and-forth, both of them were staring intently at each other.

Others quickly noticed, with Cate Blanchett and Julie Delpy exchanging a glance, clearly a bit jealous.

But the two women cooperated seamlessly, blocking the other women to give Zeta Jones a clear shot at Milo.

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 12: The Blooming British Rose*

Morning.

Outside the villa, the forest is full of the loud and incessant calls of birds.

Zeta Jones opens her eyes, feeling a bit of dryness in her eyes—a sign that she hasn’t gotten enough sleep.

She rubs her eyes and looks down at the marks on her body, a faint tinge of dissatisfaction crossing her expression.

That man—such a beast, always full of energy, never seeming to run out.

She carefully sits up. The blanket slides off, revealing her beautiful curves.

Her eyes scan the room, but she doesn’t see him anywhere.

As she gets out of the bed, Zeta feels an ache in her body—last night’s exertions clearly took a toll. She tidies the blanket, grabs the robe that had been neatly folded by the side, and slips it on. Barefoot, she walks into the bathroom.

After freshening up, she glances at her glowing face in the mirror. She also notices several small marks on her body—leftover traces of last night’s passionate activities.

Recalling the craziness of the night, she instinctively licks her red lips.

Finishing her routine, she steps out of the bathroom, dressed in the robe, barefoot, and heads toward the second-floor living room.

She doesn’t see Milo, or anyone else for that matter, but in the corner of the room, she spots a middle-aged white woman dressed in a maid uniform.

The woman smiles as she approaches, “Good morning, Miss Jones. I’m Marina Aris, the housekeeper here…”

Through her conversation with Marina, Zeta learns that it’s already close to noon. Milo, the owner of the house, had left earlier in the morning to go on a business trip to San Francisco. Marina had been left behind to take care of Zeta, who had still been asleep.

Marina informs her that if Zeta wants to stay longer, it’s fine, and if she wants to leave, she will arrange transportation for her.

Zeta thinks to herself, There’s no way I’m leaving. If she left now, it would feel like all of last night’s efforts had been wasted.

Zeta smiles and says, “I’m a bit hungry, Marina. Can you prepare some food for me?”

“Oh, of course.”

Marina smiles, “I’ll have the chef arrange it right away.”

Soon, Zeta finds herself seated at the second-floor dining table. She admires the paintings on the wall while eating what can only be described as a combination of breakfast and lunch.

Through more casual conversation with Marina, Zeta gathers that Milo has no intention of rushing her to leave. She can stay as long as she likes or leave whenever she wants.

This eases her mind. The last thing she wants is to wake up and find a check with only a small amount of money, something that would make her feel like her time was wasted.

By the time she finishes eating, it’s already noon.

“Marina, can I ask where the bag I brought last night is? I think I left it in the dressing room.”

“Oh, of course, I’ll have someone bring it over, Miss Jones.”

Zeta gets her bag back, which contains her makeup products and her phone. She thanks Marina.

Zeta then returns to the second-floor master bedroom and steps out onto the small terrace facing the pool.

When she sees the terrace, Zeta’s face heats up. She vaguely remembers how, during the madness of the night, she had been covered with a bathrobe and led out to the terrace. There, the man had taken full advantage of her, and she had been too embarrassed to open her eyes.

But she couldn’t help but clearly hear the cheers and jeers from the women below.

She mutters a low “fuck,” then pulls out her phone and starts dialing.

The first call is to her manager, Anna. She quickly tells Anna where she is and that her phone is on, so she can be contacted if necessary.

The second call is to two new friends she made last night. Zeta dials Julie Delpy’s number. Cate Blanchett doesn’t have a phone, Zeta remembers, since Cate is staying in the U.S. on a tourist visa and has no money.

“Hello, this is Julie Delpy, who is this?”

“Julie, it’s Catherine—Catherine Zeta-Jones.”

“Wow!” Julie exclaims. “Cate, get over here! Catherine is calling!”

On the other end of the line, Zeta can hear Julie’s cheerful exclamations and the sound of her calling Cate over.

“Catherine, where are you right now?”

“I’m still up in the hills.”

“Wow~” Julie says again, “Did you stay there last night?”

“Yes, I did. When did you guys leave?”

“We got back down the hill around 1 a.m. Catherine, tell me, how many people stayed behind?”

“Just me.”

“Wow~” Julie’s voice rings out, “Looks like the owner there really likes you!”

Zeta thinks for a moment, Did he like me? She can’t deny that it seemed that way.

She vaguely remembers that it wasn’t just last night. Even this morning, the guy had stayed with her for a long while before finally leaving.

“You don’t know,” Julie continues, “After you and he went into the room, it took him over an hour to come out, but you never came out. After he left, the others were so happy. Then he went in with two other women, and he didn’t come out after that. A little later, a fat guy showed up. He told us the party was over, and each of us got a check for $1,000, then we left.”

“So, in theory, all three of you should have stayed over.”

“But now you’re telling me that only you stayed behind. So the other two girls must not have been as popular with the owner!”

“I’m sure of it,” Zeta answers firmly, “Only I stayed.”

“Well, that proves it. You’re the one who’s favored, or else you wouldn’t have been kept up there,” Julie says.

“Congratulations, Catherine! That’s Michael Eisner himself who came to visit!”

When Zeta hears this, a smile spreads across her face.

Julie’s words remind her of what she had seen the night before. Julie and the others had witnessed Michael Eisner’s demeanor in front of Milo.

Now, Zeta knows that Michael Eisner, the notorious Hollywood mogul, is someone who’s usually seen with a harsh, cold expression. But last night, when he spoke with Milo, he seemed unexpectedly warm and approachable. Zeta realizes that this was an extraordinary opportunity.

If Michael Eisner had not been there and acted the way he did, she, Julie, and the others would have never made the choice to stay longer. They had originally planned to leave but ended up choosing to stay, and eventually, Milo selected her.

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 13: Strategic Positioning on the Internet*

Catherine Zeta-Jones and her new friends were in conversation.

*Noon.*

*California, Santa Clara.*

Santa Clara is one of the well-known cities in Silicon Valley, and a key part of its growing tech hub.

Like the rest of Silicon Valley, it is home to many startups.

“Jerry, do you think the new investor will start calling the shots?”

David Filo asked nervously, his worry preventing him from relaxing.

He turned to Jerry Yang, who stood beside him in a well-tailored suit, his expression serious.

“David, I understand your concern, but I think as long as he’s somewhat reasonable, there shouldn’t be any major personnel changes,” Jerry Yang replied. He could sense David’s unease, but he, too, was nervous.

Their company had been founded just a year ago and received $5 million in angel investment from Sequoia Capital.

As of now, they had already spent $4 million of that.

As for their output...

Forget about the pioneers of the early internet age.

Even the internet companies of two or three decades later had almost all relied on burning cash to maintain visibility in their early days.

Very few internet companies ever made it to the point where they were not just burning cash, but actually generating revenue or even turning a profit.

But the situation now was different from the future.

In the future, many internet companies would be able to burn money with peace of mind.

That’s because, in the early days, many internet companies had shown results.

They had delivered returns to investors.

Thanks to these trailblazers, later startups could afford to burn through cash with confidence.

But here they were, in 1995, and the first internet IPO was still a month away.

People were still skeptical whether it would even succeed.

Every day, financial experts in newspapers and the media raised doubts.

The startups in Silicon Valley, like theirs, were in a tough spot.

Even if they had a great story to tell, even if they could spin a tale with flair, they didn’t yet have a proven template or anything solid to boast about.

That’s why the two founders of Yahoo, Jerry Yang and David Filo, were so nervous when they heard Sequoia Capital was bringing in a new investor.

“They’re here,” David Filo said, noticing several cars approaching them.

The cars slowed and stopped, and a group of people got out.

These were people Jerry Yang and David Filo knew well. They had been involved in the recent negotiations, and at the front of the group was Wendy Harris, a tough negotiator.

Next, a young man stepped out of the car, wearing a T-shirt and jeans. He looked around, surveying the environment and the location of the company.

It was a five-story old building with peeling paint, giving off a rundown feel.

“This must be the young guy. He’s so young, money really makes people act boldly!” David Filo thought to himself, but he quickly approached to shake hands with Milo.

Jerry Yang followed closely behind David Filo. They were both surprised at how young Milo appeared.

After a brief introduction by Wendy, the group exchanged pleasantries, and David Filo led everyone into the Yahoo office.

The office was spacious, but there weren’t many employees. Milo had learned that Yahoo only had about fifty employees at this point.

With just fifty people in a five-story building, each person had a lot of space, which seemed a little extravagant.

At this moment, the entire Yahoo team, including the two founders, was feeling a bit nervous.

The early internet pioneers hadn’t yet developed the comfort with burning money that the later generations would have.

The $5 million investment had mostly been spent, and the company hadn’t made a single penny in profit so far.

And it was clear that, for the foreseeable future, Yahoo wouldn’t be making a profit anytime soon.

There were many companies like theirs in Silicon Valley.

Many of them burned through their capital and then shut down when the money ran out.

Yahoo had to bring in new funding.

The new investor was introduced through Sequoia Capital, Yahoo’s angel investor.

Whether it was David Filo and Jerry Yang, or the rest of the employees, everyone was hoping for the investor’s dollars. Without it, the company might not survive the year.

The atmosphere in the conference room was tense. Milo wasn’t speaking, and he absentmindedly flipped through the materials, plans, and proposals that Yahoo had prepared for the investors.

From today’s perspective, they seemed a bit far-fetched.

But from Milo’s perspective as someone who had seen the future, he knew that while Yahoo would eventually decline and shut down, for the next five years, it was undoubtedly going to be a global internet leader.

At its peak, its market value reached over $120 billion.

Milo didn’t wait for the two internet pioneers to give him a lengthy pitch to try and secure the investment.

Once Wendy and the audit team finished the final checks, Milo would sign the contract and make the payment.

He would invest $5 million, just like Sequoia Capital.

At that point, Milo and Sequoia would jointly hold 70% of Yahoo’s shares, with the two founders retaining the remaining 30%.

And this small company, with its heavy losses and no visible output, would officially be valued at $14 million.

A few minutes later, Wendy walked in.

She gave Milo a nod, signaling that everything was in order.

“Then let’s sign the papers,” Milo said with a smile to the two founders.

Jerry Yang and David Filo let out a sigh of relief.

They were also a bit stunned.

It was that easy?

No long speeches, no drawn-out discussions—just sign the papers after reading the materials?

When they secured Sequoia’s investment last year, it had taken almost three months.

Sequoia had audited them in every way possible, and the two founders had almost been at their office every day on Sand Hill Road pitching.

It took that long to get Sequoia's investment.

But this time, dealing with Milo, they didn’t expect it to be so easy.

In fact, there hadn’t even been ten sentences exchanged, and Yahoo had already secured another investment.

“… This… this is too easy?” David Filo muttered in disbelief as they watched the cars drive away.

Jerry Yang, equally stunned, turned to him.

The entire process had taken less than an hour, including greetings and farewells.

Even though they had been in contact for several days, they still couldn’t quite believe how effortlessly the deal had gone through.

David Filo, being white, had more channels and information available to him. After thinking for a moment, he turned to Jerry Yang and said, “Five million dollars is a lot for us, but maybe not so much for him. I’ve heard our new investor might be connected to the Boston Consortium.”

“The Boston Consortium!” Jerry Yang exclaimed, surprised.

David Filo nodded confidently.

He had heard the news from Sequoia Capital.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 14: A Lack of Ambition

Night falls, and the lights of the city come on.

San Francisco.

Back at the Intercontinental Hotel, Wendy looked on in exasperation as Milo, who had just returned, immediately sank into the sofa, bored, yawning, and flipping through TV channels.

Wendy said irritably, "My dear boss, I can understand your investment in Yahoo—after all, Sequoia Capital was already in on it."

"But..."

The fat man shifted his tone and continued, "I just don't understand your venture capital investments in other Silicon Valley companies."

"Like?" Wendy asked.

"Take Delicious and Auctionweb, for example."

"The former has only three people and doesn't even have an office. The latter is even more ridiculous—it's just the founder setting up a candy box auction site to impress his girlfriend..."

"These two companies, and you wrote them a $50,000 check and a $100,000 check!"

Milo couldn’t be bothered to explain.

"Just trust me, Wendy. Believe me, one day you’ll think of me as a prophet."

Should he really tell Wendy that he was a time traveler?

With $50,000, he acquired 60% of Delicious. In no more than three years, he could turn that into several hundred million dollars in returns.

As for Auctionweb, it was even more impressive.

The founder, after receiving the investment, was already planning to change its name to "Echo Bay Technology Group," or "Ebay."

$100,000 for the same 60% stake.

There were similar companies like Geocities, Lycos, and others.

Including Yahoo, Milo had launched a premeditated, large-scale investment spree across Silicon Valley.

He threw $15 million out of his $20 million family credit line into the mix.

In total, he acquired over 50 Silicon Valley startups, securing about 20% to 70% equity in each, along with signing priority investment agreements to ensure his future rights for follow-up investments.

Milo was pleased with the results and felt it was a success.

Wendy, on the other hand, was troubled.

As a member of the Blackburn family who was assigned to keep an eye on Milo, acting as his "guardian," "butler," and "fall guy" in many ways, Wendy often felt helpless in stopping Milo’s reckless behavior.

In the past, only two and a half people were able to control Milo.

John Blackburn and Paladin Blackburn were the two.

The "half" was Robin "Bush" Blackburn.

But now, Paladin was dead.

And Robin, with only one son left, would probably be too soft to intervene.

Wendy knew that only the head of the family could truly rein in this little troublemaker.

He could only comfort himself, thinking that the money was given by the family, and that Milo’s investment plans were well-known and tacitly approved in Plymouth.

If it ended in losses, it wouldn’t be his fault.

Worst case, he might be called back to face a scolding.

But if luck was on his side, he might even be reassigned away from this little troublemaker.

"God, please help me," he thought.

With that in mind, Wendy reported to Milo on the balance of his little cash stash.

"You insist on doing this, and there's nothing I can do. But I think you should know how much we have left."

Milo was curious, "Hmm? How much?"

"The family’s credit line at Wells Fargo still has $5 million left."

"Your personal account at Citibank currently has $3.85 million."

"Besides that, there are various other cash and scattered funds, around $200,000."

"So, in total," Wendy summarized, "you have about $9 million in liquid assets left to play with."

Milo laughed. "Still that much? Well, that’s a relief."

Wendy rolled his eyes and lay down on the other sofa.

Seeing Milo so relaxed, Wendy realized there was no point in getting anxious.

The Blackburn family was large and powerful, and Joseph had a promising future.

Even if Milo got a bit more reckless, it didn’t matter. The family clearly wasn’t counting on him to follow in Paladin’s footsteps.

Wendy remained silent, and Milo didn’t speak either.

For a while, both of them sat in the living room of the Intercontinental Hotel, each lost in their own thoughts.

Milo, lounging lazily on the sofa, felt unusually relaxed for the first time since his rebirth.

Because he had successfully achieved his first goal after crossing over:

Investing in the internet, with plans to achieve financial freedom through the upcoming Nasdaq boom.

First, he used the Blackburn family’s connections to secure 200,000 shares of Netscape before its IPO.

These 200,000 shares cost him $4 million, which depleted all of his initial funds.

But it was worth it—just one more month of waiting.

Once Netscape went public, the stock would stabilize at over $70 a share.

At that point, whether he sold in six months or used the shares as collateral, he could easily cash out tens of millions of dollars.

He also convinced his grandfather to secure the family’s initial investment.

Now, he had successfully acquired stakes in over 50 internet companies, including Yahoo.

Milo was confident that as long as he kept up with the investments, the nearly $20 million he had already invested would yield over $10 billion in returns within five years.

Just from Yahoo alone, the return could exceed $5 billion.

By then, even if he did nothing, just sitting on such a fortune, along with the family’s protection, he could live out his life however he pleased.

He was only 22 now, and by the time the empire’s sunset period arrived, he’d be nearly 60.

By then, having experienced everything—traveled, tasted, and enjoyed—he wouldn’t care if the empire fell apart.

With that thought, Milo shrugged, got up, and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window, stretching lazily.

Before him, the dazzling night view of San Francisco unfolded.

So, what could he do now?

What could bring him pleasure?

A giggling sound came from the TV behind him—it was Disney’s family channel, broadcasting a family-friendly movie.

As he continued to think, Milo licked his lips.

Hollywood! He squinted his eyes and silently mouthed the word.

Suddenly, Wendy heard Milo, standing by the window, ask, "Dear Wendy, what do you think about me making movies?"

"Movies? We’re already making movies. After the family funds arrived, the follow-up investments for the two films we’re collaborating on with Miramax have already been made. So, in name, Paladin Pictures is already filming two movies."

"No, that's not what I mean," Milo smiled and said. "I mean, we should make movies ourselves!"

"Huh?" Wendy straightened up from the sofa, frowning at Milo. "What do you mean..."

"I’ll be the director, the screenwriter, the producer. I’ll make the movies!"

Wendy opened his mouth, unsure how to respond.

For goodness’ sake!

Is this even reasonable?

This is totally not reasonable!

You, a descendant of the Mayflower in New England, the grandson of a former senator and the son of a current congressman, with five members of the Blackburn family who’ve served in Congress, not to mention an ex-White House resident grandfather and an uncle who’s a governor...

This guy isn’t following in his ancestors’ footsteps by playing the political game.

He’s just about scraping by with no sense of self-awareness, avoiding the high-level political "card games" that would suit him.

At the very least, with his connections, he could be a relaxed stock market genius on Capitol Hill.

Or maybe even start a company—just keep opening companies, taking on various profitable projects.

That would be an easy way to make money, something everyone does.

But no. He does none of that.

Instead, he runs off to Los Angeles to fool around with women.

This is already looked down upon in the circle.

Now, it’s not enough that he’s fooling around with women, but he wants to be a part of Hollywood too.

Wendy opened his mouth.

But in the end, he didn’t know what to say.

*End of Chapter*

*Chapter 15: The First Step*

In his previous life, Milo was just a minor screenwriter who never really worked on a full-fledged film.

But he had worked on a lot of short videos and short dramas.

To write scripts, he had watched countless movies and TV shows, as well as read various novels.

Perhaps it was for this reason.

When he began to seriously recall the things he had seen before his rebirth, he found that he could actually bring all these memories back, and quite clearly.

This might be related to the fusion and reorganization of his memories after being reborn? Who knows?

But this gift of crossing over undoubtedly gave him more confidence in what he wanted to do.

Back in Los Angeles, Milo quickly got busy.

From July 1995 to August 1995, for an entire month.

He mostly stayed in his villa.

Apart from visiting the Screenwriters' and Directors' Guilds, and the library, he hardly went out, which surprised Marina and Wendy, who were in charge of his daily life.

*August 5th.*

"Wow~ How many drafts is this now?"

Beverly Hills, Crest Avenue, 9406.

Noon.

Julie Delpy watched her good friend, Catherine Zeta-Jones, place a sealed document into the office safe.

Beside them was Milo, who had just finished writing and was stretching lazily, rubbing his hands.

"This is the sixteenth draft, but only three are actually finished," Milo said with a smile. "The rest are just outlines, not fully fleshed out."

"You know, Milo, you really surprise us... While you're writing scripts, you can also write novels. Though you still haven’t shown us your novels or scripts, I think they must be amazing," Julie said, a slight flattering smile crossing her face.

It had been a month since the last pool party.

In that time, though Milo had stayed inside, he hadn’t been slacking off.

Catherine Zeta-Jones, this stunning English rose, had been kept close by Milo, with the price being—

The next film invested in by Paladin Pictures would feature her as the lead.

So, during this month, Zeta-Jones had not left Crest Avenue, 9406.

And her two newly made "good friends," Julie Delpy and Cate Blanchett, occasionally had the chance to visit as well.

Over time, the three women had become familiar with Milo.

Of course, not familiar enough to be at the "intimate" level just yet.

In a casual conversation, they learned that Milo wasn’t a local of Los Angeles. He was from the East Coast and had a grandfather named Bush.

Yes, the same Bush who was the previous White House occupant.

"I wasted too much time before. Now I want to make the most of everything," Milo shrugged. "And by the way, ‘weird’ isn't necessarily a bad word. I don’t think I’m anywhere near the type who dyes their hair in bright colors, wears black leather jackets, rides around on Harleys, or sits in the street corners in plaid shirts with a straw hat looking at women."

Julie couldn't help but chuckle, covering her mouth. "I didn’t say that. You’re the one who said it."

She then added, "I heard from Catherine that you're starting to shoot your first movie next month?"

"Yes, the script is already set," Milo nodded, about to continue when...

There was a knock at the door.

Wendy stood in the doorway.

"Bertrand Irwin is here. Oh, he’s in charge of HUP on the West Coast," Wendy said.

Milo smiled. "Alright, I’ll meet him in the living room. Let him wait there. I’ll be right out."

Wendy glanced at Zeta-Jones and the others, nodded, and left.

"I'm going to meet a guest. You can either wait here or head out now, and I’ll catch up with you later," Milo told the three ladies.

They had agreed to go out in the afternoon, but before that, Milo needed to take care of some things.

Zeta-Jones nodded obediently, about to speak, but Julie Delpy smiled and interrupted, "We're not in a hurry. We can wait for you~"

"Do as you wish."

Milo said as he left the study, leaving the three women somewhat curious.

---

*Crest Avenue, 9406 - Front Gate.*

Raul Aleman parked his car and carefully surveyed the surroundings. Once he confirmed he was at the right place, he muttered, "Beverly Hills... This doesn't look like the place where a poor writer would live..."

He then walked toward the villa.

He pressed the doorbell and waited a few minutes before the door opened with a click.

A middle-aged woman with a good appearance opened the door and eyed him with some suspicion. "Who are you looking for?"

"Is Mr. Milo Blackburn living here? I'm Raul Aleman from the McMillan Publishing Company's editorial department. We have an appointment."

"Come in. Mr. Blackburn has been expecting you for quite some time," the woman said with a look of realization, stepping aside.

Raul nodded and walked in, but he was a bit puzzled.

Did she just say "you" in the plural form?

It didn't take long for him to figure it out.

In the living room, there were four men sitting, three of whom he recognized.

HUP, Thomas Publishing, and Time Publishing.

These three were his competitors on the West Coast.

What was going on? Was this Mr. Blackburn trying to play all these companies against each other?

Raul frowned.

Before he could express his dissatisfaction, Er Hakanston from Time Publishing, with whom he had a closer relationship, waved and smiled, "Hey, we were waiting for you, Raul, come on over."

He exchanged a look with the other two, and they all shrugged in unison, leaving Raul even more confused.

Waiting for me? What does that mean?

"Can you explain, Mr. Blackburn? It seems you didn't just make an appointment with me," Raul asked after introducing himself to the young man.

"Well, it's like this," the young man said with a smile. "I suddenly got the idea to write a novel, but I'm not sure if it’ll make money, or even if it can be published. So I sent it to your companies, and now you’re all here to discuss it with me."

Raul immediately realized what was going on.

This young man was trying to play them all against each other.

He immediately stood up, ready to leave.

A young writer who had never published anything, with no reputation whatsoever, wrote a novel and sent it to a few publishers.

Maybe he got lucky, and the content was good, so everyone was interested.

But the fact that he had invited all four publishers to meet at once, instead of scheduling individual meetings, was clearly an attempt to play them off each other!

Raul wasn’t going to let this happen.

McMillan Publishing was one of the top five publishers in the U.S.

It was never McMillan that had to yield to writers; it was the other way around.

And if they all competed against each other here, it would only drive up the publishing costs, making it harder to negotiate, and the young man would be the one who benefited.

Less money made was a loss.

With that thought, Raul stood up and looked toward the other three.

They all knew each other, and although they were usually competitors, Raul figured they’d have the sense to leave together.

That way, they’d have a better chance to negotiate later.

He looked first at Er Hakanston, with whom he had worked before, but was surprised when Er just smiled and avoided his gaze.

The other two did the same—they had no intention of leaving.

Raul was stunned. Then he heard the young man say, "Mr. Aleman?"

Something was up!

Years of professional experience made Raul Aleman realize that things weren’t as simple as he had thought.

With that realization, Raul, who had already stood up, sat back down with a smile, and stretched his neck. "My neck was a little stiff, but I’m good now."

The young man smiled, "I thought you were going to leave."

"No, just my neck was sore."

"Well, that's good. I think we can start discussing things now."

*End of Chapter.*