Lately, the assistant always at Gilbert's side was Ivanka. When she had first entered Gilbert's assistant office, the other colleagues had teamed up to bully her.
Back then, she would hide in a corner and cry alone. Yet afterward, she would pull herself together and throw herself back into work with determination.
She had to prove to everyone in the office that she wasn't there because of her family background or her beauty—she had earned her place.
After a few months in the assistant office, Ivanka helped Gilbert settle matters with the South Africans, and even secured a five-hundred-million-dollar investment into Tesla from the Fruit Company.
Not long after, Ivanka replaced Anna as Gilbert's personal assistant.
Anna now had far more important responsibilities. She was already an executive of the Fruit Company and Melon Studio, serving as Gilbert's business representative, with no end of pressing matters to handle.
Generally speaking, the secretary closest to the boss wielded enormous influence—after all, they could speak directly to him.
So it was with Ivanka. Overnight, she became someone the entire Wall Street and Silicon Valley had to take seriously. After all, while Gilbert was primarily known as a film director, everyone knew that the Fruit Investment Group had grown into a colossal power over the years.
Forbes might have listed Gilbert's fortune at thirty billion dollars, but within the industry, people whispered that this estimate was far too conservative.
In truth, Gilbert's wealth was closer to forty billion. Just look at the most dazzling companies on the stock market—almost every one of them was touched, in one way or another, by Gilbert's hand.
The only sectors untouched by him were energy and military-industrial companies.
David had once advised Gilbert to step into energy or defense. In those days, energy was hard currency, and the arms industry was nothing short of a goldmine.
But Gilbert refused, firmly declaring he would never enter those two realms.
Curious, Ivanka asked him why. Gilbert replied with a Chinese phrase: "Biting off more than you can chew."
At first, Ivanka understood only vaguely, but in time, she came to realize exactly what he meant.
As his assistant, she began meeting people she would have never encountered otherwise.
Her father, Donald, had also mingled with such high circles, but Donald was too blunt. He openly said he couldn't stand those people. After attending a few gatherings, he simply stopped going.
The people who came to Gilbert, however, were far more complicated. Not just upper-crust families, but old names like the Morgans and the Rockefellers—the sorts of families that lived on in legends and conspiracy theories.
The fact they sought Gilbert out meant he had been accepted into their circle.
Behind closed doors, they often discussed matters with him, inviting him to their gatherings. Donald had at least attended a few of those events, but Gilbert refused them outright.
Ivanka found this baffling. Wasn't he afraid of offending such people?
Not in the least. These were powerful figures, yes, but to move against Gilbert was to harm themselves. Besides, Gilbert was not someone easily manipulated.
"These people," Gilbert once said, "are always thinking of trades, always thinking of profit, always insatiable."
And it wasn't just families. Certain squid-like organizations also came courting, urging Gilbert to support them.
To outsiders, the squid people looked united, but inside they were fractured into countless factions. Each group had its own agenda—and each agenda required money.
So rather than seeking support, they were essentially blackmailing Gilbert.
If he refused, they threatened to revoke his "squid citizenship."
Ivanka had once witnessed it herself: a so-called Earth Squid Organization, claiming the entire Earth was divine land bestowed by God.
To reclaim this promised land, they insisted on launching a holy war. And of course, a holy war required funding. Their price? Ten billion dollars—from Gilbert.
Ivanka, standing by as his secretary, nearly had her brain crash hearing this absurdity.
She doubted her own sanity. Otherwise, how could the world be so ridiculous? How could people speak such nonsense? Surely God hadn't created such fools.
Naturally, Gilbert rejected them outright. Ten billion dollars? He wouldn't give them a single cent.
The organization's representative grew angry, proclaiming Gilbert was not one of God's children and would face divine punishment.
Gilbert scoffed. If God truly intervened, would evil run rampant? Would villains strut so brazenly?
Once that group was thrown out, Ivanka asked, "Boss, if they're that stupid, why even meet with them?"
Gilbert sighed. "Because of this skin I wear, there are things I cannot avoid.
Even George went through this. He handed over five million."
George Lucas, the man behind Star Wars. That much Ivanka knew.
"Then if you don't give them money, won't there be trouble?" she asked nervously.
"No," Gilbert shook his head. "The largest factions, I've already paid. These small fry don't matter—the big ones will deal with them."
From a standpoint of conscience, Gilbert would never support extremists. Even when Natalie Portman once invited him to attend a fundraising gala, he refused.
The gala's proceeds were destined to lobby Washington's old guard—the powerful squid lobbying group, active among elites.
In principle, Gilbert had already declared his allegiance to the liberal camp.
But the opposing side refused to relent. For years, persistent lobbyists kept knocking on his door, disrupting his peace.
Thankfully, things had eased now. With Gilbert as their champion, the liberals finally found their backbone, shielding their leaders for once.
Though his methods didn't align with doctrine, the times demanded a strong figurehead—and the liberals could no longer afford to be picky.
Ivanka had also learned much philosophy at Gilbert's side, insights that had changed her profoundly.
One day on set, after hearing so many stories of wicked people, she couldn't hold back.
"Boss, do you think there are more good people in the world, or more bad ones?"
"Good? Bad?" Gilbert's smile was enigmatic. "I didn't expect you'd ponder such things."
"I'm just speaking from what I feel."
"Which shows the world today has pressed even you into reflection." His smile faded, and he grew serious. "I believe people contain both good and evil.
It all depends which side outweighs the other."
"So… you don't agree that mankind is born in sin?" Ivanka asked carefully.
"Are you asking me a question of religion?" Gilbert replied.
Although Gilbert carried the title of "God's Son" he himself was not religious. But in Western society, sometimes one had to play the part.
In truth, if those who did wicked deeds truly believed in God, they should cease their evil and sincerely repent of their sins.
Yet reality was never so simple. Take a certain island, for instance—Gilbert had personally erased a batch of men there. And still, the place remained a cesspool of corruption.
Those survivors simply realized Gilbert was not to be trifled with. So, out of sight, out of mind—they stayed far away from him.
That island, infamous as a haven of vice, remained untouched, destined to thrive in depravity for decades yet.
"I believe in the power of nurture," Gilbert said. "What kind of person one becomes depends heavily on the environment and experiences that shape them."
Ivanka agreed, though inwardly she scoffed: so her boss's playboy ways must surely have come from his father's influence.
Life at Gilbert's side was going smoothly for her now. She was growing confident in her role, though some things continued to grate on her.
She often overheard whispers behind her back—people claiming Gilbert had chosen her as his assistant for her beauty.
Worse still, some went further, insisting she had already slept with him, and that her position was bought with her body.
Ivanka seethed with anger yet felt powerless. She was no struggling starlet clawing her way up with her looks—she had capability, talent, and pedigree.
She was, after all, a New York socialite in her own right. If she wanted a man, she could find any number—why would she fight over one man with a crowd of other women?
One day, after a scene wrapped, she overheard the same poisonous gossip again. And when it came time to report in, she made up her mind to complain directly.
"Boss, you need to put a stop to these damaging rumors." Ivanka said it bluntly.
"What rumors?" Gilbert asked mildly.
Ivanka fumed—did he really expect her to believe he didn't know?
But since he was pretending ignorance, she cut straight to it: "The rumors out there say I climbed into your bed. But I didn't. Boss, you need to clear this up for me."
"Oh, that." Gilbert seemed entirely unconcerned. "Ivanka, gossip thrives on attention. The more you deny, the more people will assume it's true."
Ivanka froze. Thinking it over, she had to admit there was logic in his words.
"So what should I do?" she asked.
"Do nothing. Pretend you don't know. Then nothing has happened at all." Gilbert's tone was calm.
As far as he was concerned, if he didn't acknowledge it, it hadn't happened. And it hadn't happened—just baseless talk.
"But if they keep spreading this, how can I keep working here?"
"Which is exactly why you must work even harder," Gilbert reassured her. "Prove you're not just a vase. Don't let it trouble you.
Look—celebrities drown in gossip every day. I've had adult film stars from San Fernando Valley claiming I spent a whole week with them in Philadelphia.
And yet here I am, just fine.
Focus on your work, and you'll be fine too."
"Oh…" Ivanka stumbled out of his office in a daze.
Only once she was outside did she realize she'd been played. Her problem was no closer to solved. Gilbert had compared her situation to tabloid flings—but all those supposed flings weren't in his daily orbit.
She, on the other hand, was at his side day and night. To outsiders, that alone was evidence enough—irrefutable, impossible to shake.
The more she thought about it, the angrier she grew. Why should she accept this?
She had earned her place with her own abilities, not by sharing a bed.
Damn it!
Still, one had to admit—Ivanka carried pride. She was not like those shallow New York heiresses. If it had been Paris Hilton in her shoes, she'd probably be delighted to turn rumor into fact.
But Ivanka wanted something else. She wanted to work hard, to prove herself, to wash away suspicion.
What she failed to realize, though, was that for a beautiful woman working beside a powerful man, competence alone was never enough. People would always suspect a bed behind the power.
It had been so for centuries, and Ivanka was no exception.
The only question was: how long until she quit in frustration?
Or until… she really did end up in Gilbert's bed.
....
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