Boston, in the affluent Weston suburbs at a golf club. It was Saturday afternoon.
Simon had wrapped up some work in New York yesterday and flown over in the evening to spend time with Maria, who had recently announced her pregnancy. She was now officially Maria Bezruk. As for Ulyana, Simon had insisted on retaining her former surname "Meletskova," finding her original last name, "Ovchinnikova," too long, cumbersome, and unpleasant to pronounce.
Simon was once again playing golf with Maria's three young boys when A-Girl approached from a short distance to inform him that his guest had arrived.
He signaled the boys to continue their game and left the course, heading to the café at the edge of the grounds.
Inside the café, aside from Maria, who was seated elegantly and radiating a quiet charm, there was also a tall, middle-aged man who looked to be in his late forties or early fifties. The man had short brown hair and a face that was a typical example of the long, oval "winter melon" shape that Simon had just noted was a common feature among members of the Mellon family in the files he had reviewed earlier.
This was Timothy Mellon.
Despite his youthful appearance, Timothy was 54 years old. He was a fourth-generation descendant of Thomas Mellon, the founder of the Mellon dynasty, and the grandson of Andrew W. Mellon, the U.S. Secretary of the Treasury during the 1920s and 1930s, who had led the family to its peak.
More importantly, Timothy was one of the core figures of the Mellon family's fourth generation. He controlled a large transportation company, was a trustee of the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation, and, alongside his father, Paul Mellon, was listed on this year's Forbes 400 Richest Americans list, with personal assets of $1.1 billion and $500 million, respectively.
When Simon entered, Timothy stood and walked over with a warm smile, extending his hand. "Hello, Simon. It's a pleasure to meet you. I've been looking forward to this."
Simon mirrored the warmth, shaking Timothy's hand enthusiastically. "Likewise, Timothy. It's great to finally meet you."
Maria, watching the two men exchange pleasantries, felt a mix of emotions. She knew why this meeting had been arranged, and she couldn't help but wonder if, one day, her own children might grow up to navigate such powerful interactions—or even create them.
Once the two men were seated, Maria didn't stay to participate. She poured coffee for them herself, then left the café with A-Girl and a few other attendants.
Simon waited for the women to leave before turning back to Timothy, maintaining his cordial demeanor. "I recently went through the Mellon family's genealogy, and I must say, it's truly remarkable. From Thomas Mellon in 1813 to today, nearly two centuries later, the Mellon family remains prosperous. In my view, your family's legacy has already surpassed that of the Rockefellers."
"Well, thank you, Simon," Timothy replied with a polite smile, taking a sip of his coffee, careful not to reveal any particular reaction.
Simon waited for Timothy to set down his cup before continuing. "But do you know what I admire most about Thomas Mellon?"
"Oh? What would that be?"
"What I admire most," Simon said, leaning forward slightly, "is that Thomas Mellon had eight children. That, Timothy, is something I aspire to as well. I want a large family, with many children, so that the Westeros name can endure and thrive. You see, I believe that in life, true victory comes from longevity. And for a family, victory is defined by having enough descendants to sustain its presence in the world."
Timothy hadn't expected Simon to wax philosophical about such a peculiar topic. After listening to the young man's earnest musings, he couldn't help but cut to the chase. "Simon, I'm more curious as to why you invited me here today. We've never had much interaction before. So why not get straight to the point?"
"That's precisely what I'm doing," Simon said, his smile unchanging. He pushed a folder across the table toward Timothy. "Sustaining a family for generations is no easy feat. Take the Morgans, for example. Once peers of the Rockefellers, their family name has all but vanished from prominence, surviving only in the names of some Wall Street firms. Oh, and the Hearsts—what a pity about them in recent years. I had initially hoped to establish a productive relationship with the Hearsts, but alas, they deemed me too much of a nouveau riche to bother with."
Timothy didn't need Simon to elaborate further. As soon as he opened the folder, his heart began to race.
The folder contained photos.
Among them was a picture of the bespectacled, graceful woman who had just left the café—Maria.
There was also a drafted headline: "Scandal: Both of Westeros' Ukrainian Mistresses Are Pregnant!"
As Timothy flipped through the folder, the story became clearer. It was an investigative report from the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, detailing a secret investigation conducted by two of its reporters. The investigation included surveillance, hidden recordings, and even the acquisition of private medical records from a hospital at a high price.
But what truly shocked Timothy wasn't the contents of the investigation—it was the meticulous documentation of how the investigation itself had been conducted. Every step of the reporters' process had been observed and recorded, including instructions from Timothy's cousin, Richard Mellon Scaife, the people the reporters had contacted, and the plans to release this explosive piece of news as a front-page story the following Monday.
The latter half of the folder took an even darker turn, laying bare Richard Scaife's own indiscretions—his mistresses, his illegitimate children, and more.
As Timothy finished going through the file, a cold sweat broke out on his back. Anger bubbled up inside him, directed squarely at his foolish cousin. Was Scaife trying to declare war on Simon Westeros? Worse yet, was he dragging the entire Mellon family into the fight?
Simon waited patiently for Timothy to finish reading. When the man hesitated, clearly unsure of what to say, Simon took the lead. "This all started, I believe, at a party in Boston. Your cousin must have thought I didn't show him enough respect. Which, I suppose, is understandable—after all, the Mellon family is one of America's great old dynasties. A family like yours naturally expects deference. And perhaps your cousin simply wanted to teach me a lesson."
Timothy paused, then said, "Simon, to be honest, I'm not particularly close to Richard. As you've seen in the family tree, the Mellon family is vast. Richard is just a fourth-generation cousin—he's my grandfather's brother's grandson. We're hardly close relatives."
Simon raised an eyebrow. "So you're saying this is out of your hands?"
"No, no, of course not," Timothy quickly corrected. "I assure you, this story will not appear in Monday's papers."
"I'm aware Mr. Scaife has spent millions digging up dirt on the President in recent years and has even seen some success. But as you can see, none of that has dealt the White House any real damage. If anything, Clinton's position is more secure than ever. It proves that these underhanded tactics simply don't work. And if they don't work against a public figure like the President, who must maintain a clean image, what makes him think they'd work on me?"
Timothy listened intently, his mind racing as he silently cursed his cousin for the hundredth time. After a moment, he said, "Simon, I… I apologize on Richard's behalf. If necessary, I'll ensure he apologizes to you personally."
While the Mellon family's wealth and influence now arguably surpassed that of the Rockefellers, Timothy understood the raw power of Simon Westeros. With a net worth of $1.5 trillion, Simon possessed an influence that could devastate even the most established families. If this conflict escalated, Simon might emerge battered, but the Mellon family would undoubtedly suffer the fate of the Hearsts—reduced to irrelevance.
In short, Timothy knew when to bow.
Simon, however, shook his head. "I have another principle I live by, Timothy: when someone makes a mistake, they must be punished. An apology isn't enough."
Timothy glanced at the folder on the table and offered cautiously, "The two reporters involved in this investigation will be fired and blacklisted from the industry."
"Not enough," Simon said, shaking his head again. "Since Mr. Scaife is so determined to run this story in the Post-Gazette on Monday, let's make sure he doesn't have a paper to publish it in. Shut it down."
Timothy bristled at the demand. For all his earlier efforts to de-escalate, Simon's unyielding stance tested his patience. The old-money pride that coursed through his veins flared, and he met Simon's gaze. "Simon, don't you think that's excessive?"
Though print media was in decline, the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette was still a major newspaper with an estimated value of at least $50 million. Shutting it down over a petty dispute? Unthinkable.
Simon didn't respond directly to Timothy's question. Instead, he said, "I did some research before this meeting. In 1990, the Forbes 400 listed nine members of the Mellon family, with a combined net worth of about $5 billion. This year, only six remain on the list. You're the last one, Timothy. Have you considered that next
year, or the year after, your family's presence on the list might dwindle further? Just like the Hearsts?"
Timothy's jaw tightened. "Are you threatening me?"
"Yes," Simon replied without hesitation.
"..."
After a tense silence, Timothy said, "Simon, don't forget what happened in Pittsburgh two years ago."
Simon's expression didn't waver. "I have no idea what you're talking about. But if it's as bad as you suggest, have you ever wondered why your family even knows about it? Perhaps someone made sure you all knew, just to show the lengths they're willing to go to when provoked."
Timothy fell silent once more.
Simon's tone returned to normal as he continued. "Timothy, as someone who climbed up from nothing, I understand the law of the jungle better than anyone. For my friends, I'm always generous. But for my enemies? There's no mercy. I'll do whatever it takes to grind them into the dirt. Today's matter is nothing but a small hiccup. Right now, we're neither friends nor enemies. We still have the chance to become one or the other. The choice is yours—and your family's. Give me an answer by Monday."
Maria and A-Girl returned to the café to find that Timothy Mellon had already left.
Simon stood, watching as A-Girl gathered the folder from the table. "Switch Maria and Ulyana to a different private clinic," he instructed. "And as for Charles Hospital, contact their board. Fire the director. As for the doctor who leaked the information—find a way to have her imprisoned. If she's clean, then look into her husband, her son, or her parents. Find something."
A-Girl nodded and quietly acknowledged the instructions.
Maria, however, looked uneasy. "Simon, I don't think that's necessary."
Simon stepped closer, lifting her chin to meet her gaze. His fingers gently brushed her smooth skin as he stared into her blue eyes. "In this world, if you don't push back hard enough, people will only push you further."
As Simon's hand slid toward her neck, Maria blushed and pressed her hand against his, stopping him. Glancing nervously toward the golf course outside, she decided not to argue further.
Seeing her shy reaction, Simon smiled, withdrew his hand, and headed for the exit. "I'll be heading back to New York later. Take care of yourself."
Maria followed him, nodding. Then, hesitantly, she added, "Simon… Ulyana has two kids too."
"You think I'm favoring Victor and the boys too much?"
Maria didn't answer.
It was obvious.
As the mother of three boys, Maria instinctively wanted Simon to favor her children.
Simon didn't press further.
When they reached the golf course, Maria's three boys had already been called over. Simon ruffled the youngest, Anton's, hair. "I'm leaving now. Take good care of your mother. And remember, if anyone says anything bad about your mom, you have my permission to fight them. I'll deal with their parents."
Maria's eyes widened in shock. "Simon, you can't teach the boys things like that!"
Ignoring her protest, Simon continued addressing the boys. "If you run into problems with schoolwork, ask your mom. For everything else, listen to me. And remember: I'll only support you if you're in the right. If you cause trouble deliberately, you'd better be ready to face the consequences. The support I give isn't permanent. One day, you'll grow up, and when that happens, I expect you to be men who can stand on your own."
Maria finally relaxed, reassured that Simon wasn't turning her sons into bullies.
Still, she couldn't help but think about the incident a few weeks ago. After Konstantin got into a fight with a classmate, not only was the other boy expelled, but his father—an executive at a major corporation—had lost his job. The family had even come to their home to apologize and plead for forgiveness. Maria had been moved to pity, but Simon must have heard about it through the housemaids, and whatever he did after that ensured the family never approached them again.
After exchanging a few more words, Simon sent Maria and the boys back home before boarding a helicopter to New York.
Later that evening, Simon attended the Broadway opening of The Man from Earth, a play adaptation of last year's hit sci-fi film. The movie had been a cultural phenomenon, and the play was one of its key spin-offs.
Broadway was no stranger to adaptations of Hollywood blockbusters. Productions like The Phantom of the Opera and Cats were iconic, but many successful films also found new life on stage. If successful, these plays often toured globally, hitting cities like San Francisco, London, and Paris.
For instance, Danelys Entertainment had recently launched a 3D stage production of The Lion King. The animated film, released in late 1993, had grossed over $900 million worldwide. The stage adaptation, launched late last year, had already become a massive success, generating over $300 million in box office revenue from global tours in just one year.
And that was only the beginning.
The original Lion King stage production had toured for 20 years, eventually surpassing the legendary Phantom of the Opera in global box office revenue, grossing over $6 billion.
Although stage productions had lower profit margins due to high venue and cast costs, the long-term earnings from such iconic adaptations were a cornerstone of a major studio's legacy. Danelys Entertainment's recently concluded fiscal year, which boasted over $5 billion in net profit, was a testament to the group's increasingly mature and diversified operations.
As for The Man from Earth, Simon had a personal reason for attending tonight's performance: the lead actress, Alessandra Martinez, had been cast specifically at his suggestion.
Nicknamed the "Golden Rose of Monte Carlo," Alessandra had been brought back from Italy by Simon himself. Unlike the high-budget, musically intensive Lion King, The Man from Earth was a dialogue-driven piece with minimal staging. It didn't require a demanding level of talent, and Alessandra fit the role perfectly.
Simon had also made plans to spend the night at Alessandra's place after the performance. After months of self-imposed restraint due to the pregnancies of the women around him, he felt it was time to relax.
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