A little girl, no more than three years old, must have thought the woman chasing her was cheering her on. The more the woman yelled for her to stop, the faster she ran, quickly closing the distance to where Matthew and Lily stood.
It was only then that she realized Matthew and Lily were strangers. She tried to stop abruptly, skidding on the polished floor and nearly tumbling over. Matthew, being closer, quickly reached down to steady her. The little girl looked up at him, her mouth quivering as if she were about to cry.
The woman rushed over, scooping the child into her arms. She soothed her for a mont before glancing at Matthew. "Thank you," she said.
"You're welco," Matthew replied.
This art exhibition was rather exclusive; the guests were primarily the wealthy and the famous.
He realized the tall woman looked strikingly familiar. The mole at the corner of her mouth was particularly distinctive; he was sure he’d seen it countless tis in magazines and newspapers, but he couldn't quite place her.
Just then, Lily stepped forward and greeted her, "Hello, Miss Crawford."
The woman’s gaze shifted to Lily, her eyes studying the teenager for a mont before recognition dawned. "You’re... Lily," she confird.
She remarked, "I haven't seen you in years. You're all grown up now."
Lily’s deanor was completely transford, a far cry from her previous fan-girl persona. "It's been three years since we last t," she said. "My mother still talks about you constantly."
The woman offered a polite smile. "Please give my best to your mother. I’ll have to invite her for coffee soti."
Her words, combined with Lily's use of the na "Miss Crawford," finally clicked for Matthew. He knew who the tall woman was.
"Matthew, I'd like to make an introduction."
Right on cue, Lily began the introductions. "This is Miss Cindy Crawford."
Then she introduced Matthew. "Miss Crawford, this is Matthew Horner, a friend of mine."
Cindy held her daughter close, giving Matthew a slightly awkward nod and a smile. "Thank you again for catching her."
"Of course," Matthew replied politely. "It was nothing."
Cindy turned to the little girl in her arms. "Kaia, say thank you."
The little girl whispered softly, "Thank you."
"You're welco," Matthew said, smiling down at the girl. "Is your na Kaia? You're very cute."
The little girl turned her face away from Matthew. Hearing the complint, Cindy’s smile beca more genuine. "Her na is Kaia Gerber," she explained. "She’s just a little shy."
Matthew waved a hand dismissively. "That's perfectly fine."
Cindy exchanged a few more pleasantries with Matthew before a man ca over to join her. She said her goodbyes and left with her daughter.
"Let's get out of here too," Lily said, clearly having lost interest. "I've changed my mind. This place is boring and stuffy. I might as well be at ho playing gas on my computer."
Matthew readily agreed. "Sounds good."
As they headed back the way they ca, Lily added, "I'm going to write to you often, so you have to promise to write back when you have ti."
"Don't worry," Matthew assured her. "I promise I'll write back at least once every two months."
Lily's expression imdiately soured. "Two months? How about every two weeks? No, once a month would be fine."
Without committing, Matthew simply replied, "I'll do my best."
Once they reached the gallery's main hall, Lily made a quick phone call to have her driver pull around. Then she turned to Matthew. "Well, this is ."
Matthew nodded.
Lily gave him a wave and quickly exited the lobby.
The exhibition wasn't what Matthew had expected. It felt a bit pretentious, and none of the art was actually for sale. The paintings were apparently just for display, with no option to purchase.
In Matthew's view, the organizers were likely building up publicity and hype to generate enough buzz before putting the pieces up for auction at an inflated price.
But since he had no way to purchase them, he was ready to leave.
However, a man nad Robert Fernandez appeared at just that mont, approaching Matthew. "Finished with the tour, Mr. Horner?" he inquired.
"I am," Matthew answered casually.
"Would you care for a refreshnt?" Robert asked, gesturing to an entrance to the left of the lobby. "We have coffee available."
"No, thank you," Matthew declined. "I have other things to attend to, so I should be going."
Robert didn't press the issue. "Of course. I'll walk you out."
He fell into step beside Matthew as they walked toward the exit. "You know," he added, "art is an investnt that holds its value remarkably well."
In the eyes of investnt consultants, Hollywood stars were a gold mine. Most weren't particularly well-educated, and once they beca famous and had cash to burn, they tended to buy art to project an image of sophistication and wealth. Such purchases were often made with a significant degree of ignorance.
As a result, movie stars were one of the most coveted client bases for auction houses and art investnt firms.
When he'd first seen Matthew Horner, Robert thought he’d landed a big one. He certainly hadn't expected the actor to show no interest at all.
Matthew paid Robert’s pitch no mind and kept walking.
"It's virtually impossible for fine art to depreciate," Robert continued, undeterred. "Think about it, Mr. Horner. If you invest in real estate, property taxes alone are a massive annual expense. A mansion could end up costing you money after a few years. But art? That’s a different story."
He declared, "Art is tiless. As human civilization advances, its value only increases."
By this point, Matthew had reached the gallery doors. He turned to Robert and said, "I understand. I'll consider making a purchase soti."
Robert pulled an invitation from the inner pocket of his dress shirt and handed it to Matthew. "This is for an upcoming auction. I do hope to see you there."
Matthew took the invitation. "I'll be there if I have the ti."
He tucked the invitation away, turned, and got into the BMW the valet had just pulled up. He started the engine and drove off.
...
On the drive back, he mulled over what Robert had said. The art investnt consultant had a point. In so states, property taxes were so high that simply holding onto a house as an investnt, waiting for its value to appreciate, could cost a fortune.
It was true that art could be priceless, but Robert had conveniently omitted a key fact: the value was in the artist, not just the art itself.
If a Van Gogh, a da Vinci, or a Picasso were on offer, Matthew would find a way to buy it. But contemporary artists? They weren't even worth considering.
Matthew was also skeptical about the liquidity of art. He’d once read online that the global "art fever" wasn't genuine, but a bubble inflated by auction houses, dostic and international speculators, and a complicit dia.
He had no way of verifying such claims, and in his previous life, he'd never had access to that world.
After seeing the exhibition, Matthew found himself agreeing with Helen's earlier advice: investing in art was a move that required extre caution.
Rather than pour money into a sector he didn't understand—one that even Helen was wary of—he decided it was better to stick to his plan of steadily buying Apple stock. The five million dollars he had already invested had, through the diligent work of his stockbroker, been converted into shares from Apple’s public float.
His instructions to his broker were simple: buy as many shares from the public float as possible, regardless of the price. After all, the first iPhone hadn't been released yet, and there wasn't even a whisper in the dia about Apple developing a smartphone. He was certain the stock was bound to skyrocket in the future.
And even if he was wrong and the stock didn't soar, it was a blue-chip company. Preserving the initial investnt wouldn't be a problem.
Matthew had also been mapping out his inco for the year. His base salary for "National Treasure" had already been deposited. For "Mr. & Mrs. Smith," he had received $3 million of his $10 million salary, with the remainder to be paid in full within the year.
Add to that his back-end percentage from "Dawn of the Dead," and he would soon have another substantial sum of money at his disposal.
Matthew had learned over the years that it was far better to invest a large sum of money than to let it sit idly, or worse, squander it and face heavy taxes.
But he was a cautious man and didn't trust people easily. This extended even to his stockbroker, and he made sure all necessary controls and regulations were strictly followed.
The cautionary tale of Nicolas Cage, forced to churn out terrible movies to make ends et, served as a potent warning. Matthew knew he had to be vigilant when it ca to managers, investnt advisors, and the like.
In that respect, he was guarded with everyone. He even kept a degree of caution with Helen.
So might call him overly suspicious, but Matthew firmly believed that a healthy dose of suspicion was a valuable trait for soone with a lot of money and not enough expertise in managing it.
With this new capital, Matthew set a two-part plan in motion. First, he would continue to acquire as many publicly traded Apple shares as possible before the first iPhone was released. Second, he was going to buy himself a proper mansion.
The mansion used for filming in "National Treasure" had already been sold, before he even had a chance to make an offer.
Beverly Hills real estate, it seed, was always in high demand.
In the anti, Matthew contacted the owner of the house he was renting in the northern suburbs of Burbank, intending to buy it to have a place of his own until he found a more suitable property.
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