Los Angeles.
On the same Monday, as dusk fell on the West Coast.
At a high-end restaurant halfway up Beverly Hills, Jamie Spears, who had been repeatedly delayed and put off for several meetings, was led by a waiter to the terrace overlooking the Los Angeles nightscape. After the sexy blonde waitress, whom he had been eyeing up and down throughout the walk, took their menus and left, Spears immediately slammed a copy of the newly released Forbes magazine onto the table. He glared at George Norman and said angrily, "George, I don't want to hear any more of your haggling. Three... no, one week at most. I must get the money, along with all the additional conditions. Otherwise, Simon Westeros can expect his Dume Point estate to be raided by the police just like Michael Jackson's Neverland Ranch."
George Norman patiently waited for Spears to finish his low growl, then said with a troubled tone, "Jamie, I'm just a lawyer working for someone else. Getting mad at me won't help."
Jamie Spears, however, chuckled shrewdly. "Don't think I don't know, George. I looked you up online. You're on the board of several companies in the Westeros system, including Daenerys Entertainment Group. So, you must be very close to Simon Westeros. One week—that's the most I'll wait. Otherwise, I'll file a public lawsuit and drag Simon Westeros's name through the mud."
George Norman momentarily wondered if he should suggest to his boss that they clean up some of the unnecessary information online. As for Spears' one-week threat, he wasn't too concerned. His tone remained calm. "Jamie, the additional conditions like real estate are manageable, but $250 million? That's impossible. It's too much."
"Too much?" Jamie Spears slapped the Forbes magazine on the table. "Simon Westeros is worth $1.3 trillion. $250 million is just a tiny fraction of his personal wealth. And yesterday, Daenerys Entertainment, where you're a board member, reported $5.7 billion in annual profits. That's enough for many $250 million payouts. I'm telling you, one week—this time I'm dead serious."
George Norman put on a troubled expression, hesitating for a moment before finally saying, "At most, $80 million, Jamie. Double the last offer. That's the highest authorization I've been given. However, the additional conditions will have to be excluded. With this money, you can buy your own properties."
Jamie Spears, seeing George Norman make another concession, felt a surge of triumph but masked it with even greater anger. He slammed the table again, causing a glass to fall and shatter. He snarled, "$80 million? Hey, does Simon Westeros think I'm begging? His personal wealth is hundreds of times greater than Michael Jackson's. I'm being very reasonable asking for $250 million. Since you're being so dismissive, how about $300 million, plus the properties, and my daughter must become the biggest global pop star. These conditions are non-negotiable."
George Norman was almost speechless. "Jamie, if that's your stance, I don't think we have anything left to discuss."
"Fine, then I'll file a lawsuit against Westeros tomorrow."
Jamie Spears said this with a smug look, pulling out a more refined and compact recorder from his suit pocket. He was about to press play to make George Norman listen to the audio again when the beautiful waitress returned with their pre-dinner drinks, forcing him to pause.
After the waitress left, Jamie Spears didn't continue with the recording. Instead, he just waved the device before putting it back in his pocket. He stared at George Norman and said, "$300 million, one week. This is the final ultimatum—a very, very serious one. If my conditions aren't met, we won't have any further contact, and Simon Westeros can kiss his reputation goodbye. Also, I don't want to hear any more nonsense from you."
With that, Jamie Spears ignored the drink the waitress had just brought and picked up a glass of water, drinking it on his own.
George Norman, who was even more eager than the posturing man across from him to end this charade, was relieved by the silence. If Spears had stormed off, it would have been even better—he could have enjoyed a quiet dinner. Unfortunately, it seemed Spears, likely visiting such a high-end restaurant for the first time and entranced by the stunning waitress, was reluctant to leave.
For the next hour or so, Jamie Spears was fully engrossed in his meal, still avoiding alcohol and only eating and drinking water. Occasionally, he would glare at the lawyer across from him, trying to exert psychological pressure and show his resolve.
By a little past eight, the dinner was over.
The fragrant waitress personally escorted them out. As they reached the parking lot, Jamie Spears opened his car door and said one last thing to George Norman: "Remember, $300 million, one week."
George Norman just nodded politely, watching Spears drive off before getting into his own car.
As he drove down the mountain road, George Norman reflected on the meeting, but his thoughts soon drifted. He had been to that restaurant a few times before, and while it was high-end, he had never seen that particularly stunning waitress—blonde, blue-eyed, with a slender waist and long legs, like a Barbie doll come to life.
She might even have some Eastern European heritage.
These thoughts flashed through his mind briefly before he returned to his frustrations.
He wondered how much longer he'd have to deal with this mess.
In truth, he already had a recording file his boss had sent him—the original conversation that the idiot had spliced together to demand exorbitant compensation. Norman didn't care where the audio came from, but with that material alone, he could easily have the guy arrested for extortion.
$300 million? Norman didn't even feel like laughing. He was tired of wasting his precious time playing along with this self-important, posturing fool. It felt like his IQ was being dragged down every time they met.
But since this was Simon's arrangement, he had no choice but to follow through. His only hope was that this farce would end soon.
On the other side, as Jamie Spears drove down the mountain road, he suddenly felt an inexplicable heat rising within him. His mind kept drifting back to the stunning waitress he had seen several times during dinner.
So white.
The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to rush back to his place in Burbank and take out his frustrations on his wife.
However, Jamie Spears didn't step on the gas. Instead, he slowed down even more, carefully checking every intersection before driving through.
Over the past few weeks, Jamie Spears had watched countless movies and read novels about little guys going up against tycoons, so he had taken every precaution he could think of.
For example, every time he met with George Norman, he carried a recorder with him, making five backups afterward—one uploaded to his email, one given to his wife, one kept on his person, and the other two hidden in secret locations, just in case.
Worried that he might encounter an out-of-control truck like in the movies, Jamie Spears had been staying home as much as possible. Even when he did go out, like now, he drove extremely cautiously, crawling along at a snail's pace. If any car seemed suspicious, he would slow down or even prepare to jump out of his vehicle.
Moreover, to ensure he stayed sharp, Jamie Spears had been avoiding alcohol entirely.
Yet, for some reason, his mind kept drifting back to the waitress at the restaurant, as well as the various beautiful women he had encountered during his meetings with George Norman and others.
Women.
Damn rich people!
He cursed inwardly but quickly stopped himself. Soon, he would be rich too. Maybe, after getting the money, he could return to that restaurant. A woman that beautiful, and just a waitress? A few million dollars would surely be enough to win her over.
As he thought this, he drove out of the Santa Monica Mountains and into Burbank. Passing through a street, under the dim streetlights, he noticed several slender figures with long, pale legs swaying on either side of the road. Jamie Spears felt his throat grow dry.
He hadn't noticed before, but the women on this street were quite attractive.
However, he quickly grew wary.
Maybe this was another one of Simon Westeros's traps?
Thinking this, Jamie Spears forced himself to look away, even grinning smugly.
It's just a matter of time now.
The other side had already increased their offer from the initial $20 million to $40 million, and now $80 million. He was getting closer to his $200 million goal, which meant Simon Westeros was clearly afraid of this getting out. Victory was within reach—it was just a matter of time. Plus, his strategy of deliberately raising the stakes during negotiations was working. Once they offered $200 million, he would accept, showing that he was willing to compromise and not push Simon Westeros too far.
The more he thought about it, the more excited he became. As he passed another group of scantily clad girls on the street, he suddenly felt that maybe he didn't need to overestimate the intelligence of these rich people.
Take Michael Jackson, for example. He was a big shot too, but he still coughed up $20 million.
Besides, could Simon Westeros really arrange an entire street of women to set him up?
This was America, not the Kingdom of Westeros.
Making up his mind, as he was about to drive past the street, Jamie Spears finally hit the brakes near two girls smoking under a streetlight.
What Jamie Spears didn't know was that a man standing in the shadows几十米 behind him had just pressed the communicator in his ear, about to order his team to execute the second plan. Seeing the car they had been tailing for days finally stop, the man released the button and decided to wait and see.
Under the streetlight, Jamie Spears rolled down his window, and the two girls immediately approached, leaning against the car and quoting their prices with practiced ease.
Jamie Spears, still not entirely letting his guard down, glanced at their heavily made-up faces and asked, "How old are you?"
The girls seemed caught off guard by the question. The more outspoken one scoffed, took a drag from her cigarette, and blew out a cloud of smoke. "If you're too scared to play, then get lost."
This immediately angered Jamie Spears, who now saw himself as a soon-to-be billionaire. How dare a street prostitute talk to him like that? He glared and said, "Hey, both of you, get in."
The girl still leaning on the window rolled her eyes and straightened up. "Sir, do you even know the rules? Only one at a time," she said, pointing behind her. "And it has to be in the alley. Just so you know, we've got people watching nearby. Don't try anything funny, or you'll get beaten up."
Her words actually made Jamie Spears, who was still somewhat tense, relax a bit. He wasn't an expert, but he vaguely remembered that these were the usual rules for street prostitutes. This couldn't be a trap. He pointed at the girl who had insulted him earlier. "You. Just you."
The girl seemed reluctant but stepped forward and held out her hand. "Money first."
Jamie Spears pulled out his wallet, fished out a few bills, and tossed them at her. Watching her visibly light up with surprise and excitement as she bent down to pick up the money, he felt even more pleased.
This was how he would treat women from now on.
The girl stuffed the money into her bag and gestured toward the alley. Jamie Spears, however, didn't get out to follow her. Instead, he indicated that he would drive into the alley with her.
He still wasn't entirely at ease.
If they stayed in the car, he could avoid being immediately grabbed and knocked out if something went wrong. Plus, he could make a quick escape if needed.
The girl didn't object and got into the car.
Jamie Spears rolled up the windows and drove into the alley.
Just as his car disappeared into the alley, the other girl seemed to hear a call and quickly walked over to a black car that had pulled up nearby. She got in, and the car drove off.
About ten minutes later, a police car slowly approached.
As it passed the alley entrance, a piercing scream came from within: "Help!"
Hearing the cry, the police car immediately stopped, and two officers jumped out, rushing into the alley.
Jamie Spears, who had just finished, hadn't even pulled up his pants when the disheveled girl beneath him let out a blood-curdling scream and started banging her head against the car door. Blood splattered everywhere, covering her face and head. Spears immediately realized he had fallen into a trap after all.
The immense psychological pressure he had been under and the crushing disappointment of his plan falling apart made Jamie Spears lose his temper. With a ferocious expression, he grabbed the girl by the throat.
If you're going to scream for help, I might as well kill you!
But before he could strangle her, the car door was yanked open, and a burly black police officer pulled him out.
Jamie Spears, now out of the car, opened his mouth to shout. No matter what, he would expose Simon Westeros's conspiracy and let the bystanders know this was a despicable setup. But before he could utter a single word, a thick arm reached from behind and clamped over his mouth.
In his frenzied state, Jamie Spears didn't think twice. He bit down hard on the arm, and a cry of pain came from behind as the arm quickly withdrew. However, his head was immediately met with a heavy punch, and his bloodied mouth was stuffed with something, preventing him from making any sound.
In his dazed state, Jamie Spears only caught fragments of words.
"...biting..."
"...crazy..."
"...mental hospital..."
Soon after, he faintly heard the sound of an ambulance. As his consciousness slowly returned after the heavy blow, Jamie Spears found himself bound like a log and being pushed down a long corridor. After a moment of recollection, he finally understood his situation.
A mental hospital?!
What should he do now?
Right.
Hold on. He had to hold on. Once he got out of this place, he wouldn't care about the money anymore. No matter what, he would make sure Simon Westeros's reputation was ruined.
And...
Also, he must not take any medication here. He would hide it under his tongue and spit it out when no one was looking.
That way, he wouldn't turn into an idiot.
Even if he was forced to take it, like in the movies, he could use urine to induce vomiting and cleanse his stomach if necessary.
For the sake of future revenge, he was willing to do anything.
No matter what, he had to hold on.
Gritting his teeth, Jamie Spears, now determined, was pushed into a hospital room. Knowing what might come next, he clenched his teeth around the object still stuffed in his mouth, recalling the lone heroes in movies who endured countless hardships before finally getting their revenge. He kept encouraging himself.
However, when the masked doctor approached with a syringe, Jamie Spears realized something was wrong.
He immediately started struggling again.
But his struggles did nothing to stop the doctor from injecting him through the bindings and his clothes. Within moments, Jamie Spears felt a overwhelming dizziness, and his consciousness slipped away.
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