The American TV series "Four-Round Boxing Champion Starts with Shameless"

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"The banking regulator has spoken to you three times already, hasn't it? My friend at the FBI told me that the next conversation won't be so friendly."

Martin slumped into his armchair, his face ashen. "You... how could you..."

"Oh, of course it's because I'm willing to spend money. In America, money is the least useful thing for people like us with this skin color. It's only useful for people who are willing to follow me!"

Victor looked at Martin: "You think these people are useful to me? Your introduction won't really get me involved, especially since you're late. The value of the stock market is not important to me."

"But at least I..."

"There's no minimum, and you look down on me too, don't you? Let me tell you something."

Victor looked down at the slumped Martin, a cruel glint in his eyes. "That five million dollars? It's certainly with me. But don't expect to return it to you. I've swallowed it, and you can't get it back."

Martin looked up abruptly, his eyes burning with hatred: "I'll destroy you! I'd rather go to jail than let you go down with me!"

"You can't do it!"

Victor laughed again, a cold and unpleasant laugh: "Save your breath, Martin. You don't even have the money to hire a good lawyer."

He walked to the door, paused for a moment, then turned back to deliver the final blow:

“But I’ll make you a promise. If Caroline comes to me while you’re eating dry bread in prison, I’ll give her a middle-class life. After all,”

A cruel smile curved his lips. "I'm still quite interested in her body."

The study door opened and closed again, leaving Martin slumped among the spoils of past glory, like an old beast trapped in its own snare.

Caroline stopped Victor at the end of the corridor, her cheeks flushed with anger: "What did you say to my father? I heard him smashing things!"

Victor straightened his cuffs expressionlessly: "Just tell him that we're not getting married."

Caroline stared at him in disbelief, "You bastard..."

"You think I don't know you've found a rich second-generation heir?"

Victor chuckled. "Caroline, talking about love in New York is as naive as talking about animal rights in a slaughterhouse."

"So you were just using me to get close to my father?"

"Of course not. Before, we thought it was necessary to get closer, but now there's no need for that."

Victor sighed, suddenly looking somewhat weary: "Caroline, go back to your golden cage. You don't belong in my world."

He turned and left without hesitation, his footsteps echoing in the marble corridor.

Caroline stood frozen in place.

As he passed through the hall, Victor noticed Mrs. Channing standing in the shadows, clutching a nearly empty glass of wine.

Their eyes met briefly, and Victor saw a strange look in her eyes—not anger, but a relief bordering on gratitude.

Back in his hotel suite, Victor stood in front of the mirror, gazing at his reflection for a long time—it was no longer Lee Seung-ri.

The phone rang; it was Mr. Liu.

"Will the talks continue?"

See you in an hour.

Viktor replied, his voice now calm as usual, "I have some things I need to adjust."

Viktor closed his eyes and pondered during the hot shower.

The showdown with Martin came earlier than expected, but it was not a major problem.

The collapse of the Qianning Empire was only a matter of time, and he had already made preparations.

An hour later, Victor appeared in an inconspicuous building in Chinatown.

Mr. Liu was already waiting in the secret room behind the multi-treasure pavilion.

"You seem to be late."

Mr. Liu said with dissatisfaction, but his eyes were full of curiosity, "I heard you just came from Qian Ning's house. How is that old fox doing?"

Viktor smiled slightly: "It's about to become history. The old fox is about to become a dead fox."

He took the teacup and got straight to the point: "Your goods are excellent. The cargo ship will arrive next month, and I need your people to help with customs clearance."

Mr. Liu squinted: "The risks are getting bigger and bigger, Victor. Customs is watching closely now."

"So we need more ways to distract ourselves,"

Victor leaned forward. “For example, make Channing’s collapse a headline news story. His funding sources are enough to cause New York to collapse for half a month.”

“Good idea, I’ll make it happen.”

The two talked in hushed tones for half an hour and finalized the details: "Don't worry, it's just some stock. If you're willing, I can give you a thousand. They're changing the packaging now, so it's very cheap."

Viktor shook his head: "Our goods will come directly here, shipped directly by rail. We've bribed a train."

After discussing for a while longer, as they were about to part, Mr. Liu suddenly asked, "I heard you're running for the South District Council of Chicago?"

Victor nodded: "It's confirmed."

"It's not easy for people of Chinese descent to gain status,"

Mr. Liu said meaningfully, "You need community support, and you need quantity."

Victor laughed: "That's why we need to make sure more 'hometown specialties' arrive safely, isn't it?"

Chapter 151 Donald, let's build a house in Chicago!

In February 1987, the cold wind swept across Manhattan's skyscrapers like a blunt knife.

The snow on the streets was crushed into gray-black slush by passing vehicles, and the howling wind could not drown out the city's tireless hustle and bustle.

The news of Victor and Caroline's breakup was overshadowed by the siege that occurred outside Qianning Company—Qianning Company failed to appease its staff, and countless people who had been swindled out of their money flocked to the scene.

Located at the intersection of Fifth Avenue and 59th Street, the Plaza Hotel, like a magnificent ivory tower, exudes a luxurious and ancient atmosphere under the lights of a winter evening.

It is not merely a collection of bricks and glass, but a symbol of wealth, status, and the glory of the old world.

Victor stood before the hotel's magnificent gilded doors and took a deep breath of the cold air.

He wore a well-tailored dark gray cashmere coat, and his tall and upright figure, even wrapped in the thick coat, exuded the power of a boxer's physique honed through countless trials.

For him, this place was a completely different world from the boxing gyms in Chicago that were filled with sweat, leather, and violence.

He was invited to the dinner by Donald TLP.

TLP, in 80s New York, was a name that signified the real estate boom, the glitz and glamour of a media darling, and an almost reckless confidence.

The doorman respectfully opened the door for him, and a warm breeze carrying the scent of perfume and money wafted out.

The interior of the hall was extremely luxurious, with the light from crystal chandeliers spilling onto the marble floors and velvet sofas. Well-dressed men and women chatted in hushed tones, every syllable seemingly imbued with an air of success.

The waiter led him to the hotel’s private restaurant area.

The restaurant's private rooms offer greater privacy, decorated with heavy wood paneling and expensive artwork. Tang

Nader TLP was already there, dressed in a sharp dark suit, his signature blond hair neatly combed, and wearing his usual infectious smile of confidence, but deep in his eyes gleamed calculation and desire.

"Victor! You've finally arrived!"

TLP stood up and gripped Victor's hand tightly. His palm was dry and strong. "Look at you, you're even stronger than the last time we met! The New York wind didn't even make you shrink back, haha!"

"Good evening, Mr. TLP."

Victor responded, his voice steady and thick with a Chicago accent.

His handshake was equally firm, but the timing was just right, showing neither weakness nor provocation.

"Call me Donald."

TLP warmly put his arm around his shoulder, "Ivana will be here soon. She specially postponed her skiing trip for tonight's dinner."

His tone revealed a possessiveness and a desire to display his affection for his wife.

No sooner had she finished speaking than Ivana TLP appeared.

She wore a tight-fitting black evening gown, her blonde hair styled in an elegant updo, and a sparkling diamond necklace around her neck.

She was thirty-six years old, but she was more radiant and beautiful than the few times Victor remembered seeing her in social settings, not only because of her gorgeous clothes and makeup, but also because of her cool and elegant temperament, which was a blend of Eastern European style and New York high society.

When her gaze met Viktor's, she paused slightly, a perfect, social smile curving her lips—she had been just a weak boxer before, but now she was a champion who could take a cut of the box office.

“Victor, welcome.”

Her voice was slightly hoarse, with a unique accent.

"Mrs. TLP, it's a pleasure to see you again."

Viktor nodded slightly, showing good manners.

Dinner began in a seemingly relaxed and pleasant atmosphere.

The waiter quietly served exquisite dishes and expensive wines.

TLP dominated the conversation, talking about everything from boxing matches to the economic situation, from Chicago architecture to New York gossip. His words were full of energy, sometimes bursting into laughter, sometimes emphasizing a point, and waving his knife and fork.

Viktor was mostly a listener, occasionally offering concise responses; his composure contrasted sharply with TLP's extroverted nature.

Ivana played the role of the perfect hostess, interjecting with comments at appropriate times to lighten the mood, but Victor could sense that her carefully groomed gaze would occasionally fall on him, carrying an indescribable scrutiny and curiosity.

When the main course was removed and replaced with dessert and after-dinner drinks, TLP leaned forward, her smile fading slightly as she got down to business.

“Victor, my friend,”

He said, tapping his fingers lightly on the table, “You know why I admire you so much? You’re not just a boxer who can break someone’s jaw (though that’s impressive), you’re more than that, you’re smart. What you’ve done in Chicago, the restaurants, the finance company, the construction team, it’s impressive, it’s visionary.”

"Thank you, Donald. I'm just doing what I'm good at and know."

Viktor answered calmly, taking small sips of his brandy.

"Understanding? Field?"

TLP laughed, his voice booming, "Domains are for expanding! Opportunities are for seizing! Look here, look around you!"

He opened his arms as if to embrace the entire Plaza Hotel, "This hotel is the jewel in the crown! But it needs more brilliance, it needs new vitality, and it needs people with vision like you and me!"

He paused, his gaze fixed intently on Viktor: "I'm assembling a team, a top-notch team, to completely transform this project. To make it not just historically significant, but a global phenomenon."

I need a significant partner. Victor, I hope you'll join us. Invest some money and become part of the Plaza Hotel project.

This is far more profitable than fighting ten boxing matches or buying ten buildings in Chicago. Your name will be linked to the TLP Group, opening doors you never imagined.