After dinner, Kelly drove Zhou Qingfeng back to White Beach Town herself—the reason being he still hadn't received the grand prize and didn't want to leave White Beach Town.
In reality, he instinctively felt it was better to stay away from those 'elite' legal and business professionals.
Those guys had been rolling in the political and business arenas for decades. Their moral baseline was extrely low; they only focused on results, not processes. Their perspectives and thods of doing things were completely different from ordinary people.
Zhou Qingfeng was used to a world without rules, where everyone was straightforward and had no ti for scheming. He really had no clue how to navigate the complexities of the law.
As he got up to leave the restaurant, the old tirs who had been chatting cheerfully monts ago fell silent briefly, then started a small bet.
The initiator of the bet was Old Beck. He leaned back on the leather sofa, holding a glass of whiskey, and said with a mocking smile:
"Gentlen, let's place a bet—how long do you think it'll take for that kid to blow through that 1.5 billion dollars?"
As the 'old father,' Jeff Connally imdiately chid in, "Five years, at most five years, and he'll be back to being a pauper.
An eighteen-year-old has too many temptations. He'll quickly beco a piece of at for the hunters.
Luxury cars, mansions, luxury goods, and those pretty girls orbiting around him—any one of these could make him lose his way."
As a son-in-law, Nar Johnson was displeased with this assessnt, cautiously analyzing, "I think with Kelly managing his finances, he might last eight to ten years.
Provided he doesn't get dragged into dubious startups, doesn't make reckless investnts, and doesn't think too highly of himself. If it's just a matter of extravagant wastefulness, 1.5 billion dollars is enough for him to spend a lifeti."
The others laughed heartily at this.
Because investnt is truly the fastest way to lose money.
Old Beck casually swirled his drink, speaking in a playful tone, "Sudden wealth will quickly inflate a young man's ego.
All it takes is a few more parties, so flattery, eting a few dozen pretty girls, and then getting hooked on drugs and gambling. He'll be done in less than three years.
Those financial vultures, socialites, and professional scam 'startup ntors' must be rubbing their hands together.
This is a piece of 1.5 billion-dollar pri at, with too many people eyeing it. I don't believe that kid can escape. He's destined to fall."
Jennifer was puzzled by the negative tone of the older generation. She looked at her father and asked,
"Dad, since you all think Victor is bound to fail, why are you helping him? And letting my sister stay by his side? Even... a bit excessively close."
The 'old father' looked at his younger daughter, educating her in a low voice, "That is still an asset of more than 1.5 billion dollars. Since it's going to be squandered, why not let it be squandered through our hands?
We are indeed helping him, and everything will be legal and compliant, with very reasonable fees. But if he can't control himself, he can't bla us.
You just saw it; he didn't listen to advice and wanted to buy a nearly bankrupt pharmaceutical company.
Does he know that company? Does he understand the pharmaceutical industry? An industry I don't even dare venture into, yet he dares to invest in.
As for your sister Kelly... she's always challenging my authority as a father, trying to create miracles. She's in her thirties and still so rebellious."
Jennifer knew her sister's personality well. She was sharp, sensitive, and proud, always trying to prove herself but constantly failing as the eldest daughter of the family.
But....
"Dad, why aren't you worried about Victor at all? What if he's not as easy to manipulate as you think?
After all, he's involved in serious criminal cases. The 'Bar Lottery' case resulted in many casualties. Do you really think he's just a puppet, not the real mastermind?"
The old guys exchanged glances and laughed again.
The most experienced Old Beck shook his head and said in a negative tone, "A student who's been in the United States for less than three months suddenly has the guts to get involved in gang warfare?
Even managing to skillfully eliminate at least two people while under police surveillance without leaving any clues, and still win a grand prize lottery ticket?
No, that's impossible. That kid is just a puppet, with the real mastermind clearly standing behind him. I'm sure the FBI won't easily give up."
It sounded very logical.
But Jennifer recalled bits and pieces of her interactions with Zhou Qingfeng, and many indescribable details floated in her mind.
That kid did have the impulsiveness and recklessness of youth, but he was more mature, calm in the face of problems, very unlike a puppet.
-----------------
The night was as dark as ink, pitch black.
The car's headlights cut through the darkness like blades, illuminating the sparse trees along the roadside.
Kelly drove a silver Porsche, gripping the steering wheel intently, her gaze fixed straight ahead. Occasionally, she'd glance at the young man in the passenger seat, her eyes cold and indifferent.
Zhou Qingfeng leaned against the seat, his head slightly turned towards the window, his eyes on the rapidly passing scenery outside the window. Occasionally, he would look at Kelly, their eyes would et, then separate.
Inside the car, only the low hum of the engine and the rustling of the tires could be heard, until the car slowly stopped in front of 114 Beach Street, breaking the silence between them.
Kelly turned off the engine, unbuckled her seatbelt, opened the door, and walked around to the passenger side.
Zhou Qingfeng had just gotten out when he was embraced. As she leaned in close to Zhou Qingfeng's cheek, she whispered, "Victor, are you sure you want to buy 'Apocalypse Creatures'?"
Zhou Qingfeng could feel her breath, along with the faint scent of her perfu, a fragrance that mixed citrus with woody notes, a coldness with a hint of warmth.
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