LRAB Page 220
Page 220
He gave a nearly silent sneer.
For him, it was more like a business proposal that required careful calculation and weighing of risks and rewards, rather than a natural emotional outlet.
He has seen too many alliances based on mutual interests, and too many relationships fall apart because they cannot withstand the pressure.
His world is complex, fast-paced, and full of risks. Including an "outsider" in it means too much uncertainty and potential weaknesses.
He enjoys the feeling of being in control, but emotions are precisely the most difficult factor to control.
The warmth of tonight was certainly pleasant, but it felt more like watching a beautiful drama unfold. He couldn't imagine himself as the protagonist, indulging in that ordinary, even mundane, daily life.
"It's true that you can't meet too many good people in advance; everyone else is trash compared to her."
The car drove into the garage and silently drove straight to the apartment.
The door opened, the lights were turned on, illuminating an extremely clean and stylish space that lacked any sense of life.
The air is filled only with the constant, filtered air supplied by the system, carrying a hint of fragrance. There is no longer any warm aroma of roast turkey, spices, or desserts, nor can you hear the crackling of the fire or the laughter of children.
"Go back now, it's very late, thank you for your help."
The driver didn't think so, because Christmas was optional, but five times the pay was something he couldn't refuse.
Victor took off his coat, casually draped it over the sofa armrest, and walked to the huge floor-to-ceiling window.
Outside lies a vast, brightly lit cityscape, bustling yet cold.
His solitary figure was reflected in the glass, overlapping with the distant lights of countless homes outside the window, yet they seemed to be separated into two different worlds.
The excitement is theirs.
He seemed to have long been accustomed to this solitary realm that belonged to him, a quiet place built upon success and power.
But on this particular Christmas Eve, the silence seemed even more profound than usual.
Viktor exhaled softly, and a small, blurry trace of white mist spread across the cold glass, but quickly disappeared without a trace.
On the other side, after Old Joe saw off all the guests, the villa suddenly became quiet, with only the soft sounds of his wife tidying up.
He stood in the messy yet still joyful living room, slowly strolled to the Christmas tree, and gazed thoughtfully at the still-shining Star of Bethlehem.
Viktor's polite refusal was exactly what he expected.
But he did not give up on his idea because of this.
On the contrary, he became even more convinced that Viktor needed a life partner.
The child's aloofness and hidden weariness could not be hidden from this experienced elder.
"Let nature take its course?"
Old Joe muttered to himself, shaking his head, "Some things, you can't just wait and see."
He picked up his phone and scrolled through the names and numbers in his contacts, his gaze becoming deep and calculating.
He didn't intend to make it too obvious, nor would he force Viktor.
But he decided to create some "natural" opportunities for Viktor in a more natural and subtle way.
A name that Frankie, Ethan, and Michael had mentioned popped into Old Joe's head. After a mental storm, Old Joe blurted it out:
"Is it really that hard to find a wife?"
The warm Christmas spirit may fade, but Old Joe believes it's equally important to find Victor a lasting warmth of his own.
This became a new goal he secretly set for himself after Christmas Eve:
"I've already tied you up!"
Outside the window, on the quiet streets of the South District, the Christmas lights still shone gently, as if silently guarding the warmth and secrets of every family.
Old Joe's plan, like a seed quietly planted, awaits an unknown future at the end of this Christmas Eve.
Chapter 186 Year-End Loneliness and New Year's Plans
The night is getting darker.
He was all alone in the vast space.
The cold glass, the cold marble, the cold metal decorations, all reflect a cold light.
There are fine wines in the wine cabinet, but he's too lazy to pour them out.
The room temperature rose, and Victor took off his sweater, threw it on the expensive sofa, stood by the window, lit a cigarette, and looked out at the city where snow was falling.
An unprecedented sense of loneliness, like the cold wind outside the window, penetrated the glass, penetrated his clothes, and went straight into his bones.
He possessed so much: money, honor, power, women... but at this moment, all of it seemed to have lost its weight.
He needs someone to talk to, not to flatter, not to give reports, just... to talk.
A figure clearly entered his mind—Max Black.
They had a brief, sparkling encounter; her frankness, her sarcasm, her indifference, her straightforwardness, her intelligence... all of which made him feel strangely relaxed and genuine.
He picked up the phone almost without hesitation and dialed the number he had gotten from the detective and kept in his heart.
The receiver emitted a long, drawn-out tone—one tone, two tone… ten tone… but no one answered.
Despite persistent attempts to dial again, the result remained the same.
A wave of irritation washed over me.
He threw down the phone, picked it up again, and dialed another number.
"It's me. Max Black, any news?"
His voice was filled with suppressed urgency.
The detective on the other end of the phone sounded cautious and helpless: "Mr. Li, I'm sorry, we're still doing our best. Her last work record ended after that restaurant job, her rental agreement was cancelled, and there haven't been any major changes to her bank account."
She seems to have vanished into thin air. We're expanding the search area, but it will take time…
"Time? I've given you plenty of time and money!"
Viktor's voice suddenly rose, sounding particularly jarring in the empty room, "I want results! Not weekly 'sorry's'! Keep searching! Find them for me, even if you have to dig three feet into the ground!"
"We will definitely do our best."
"You'd better do that, or I'll break your legs!"
Victor was furious: "Then I'll sink you all into the lake!"
He slammed the phone down, and the expensive, custom-made communication device crashed onto the marble floor, shattering into pieces instantly.
His chest heaved violently, his anger burning uncontrollably.
He hated this feeling of being out of control, hated this sense of powerlessness of "not being able to find it".
Max's disappearance was like a thorn stuck in his seemingly indestructible world, reminding him that some things cannot be easily controlled by money and power.
He thought of Caroline, the blonde, down-on-her-luck rich girl, who had also disappeared without a trace.
He even thought of his lovers:
Ivana is probably playing the role of a supportive wife somewhere in TLP right now;
Emily was in New York with her husband;
Nisha runs a shipping business in Atlantic City;
Lisa basked in the Los Angeles sun... They were all just embellishments in his life, each taking what they needed, but none of them could fill the deep-seated emptiness he felt at that moment.
Svetlana?
That shrewd, equally ruthless Russian woman.
Almost out of spite, he picked up another phone and dialed Svetlana's number.
Half an hour later, the apartment doorbell rang.
Svetlana stood outside the door, her blonde hair impeccably styled, wearing an expensive fur coat, her face showing a hint of weariness from driving there, but more so a knowing and playful expression.
She carried a mixture of cool perfume and the chill of the outdoor air.
"Victor, an emergency call on Christmas Eve. Hopefully, there's a huge financial hole in the group that only I can fix."
She walked in, took off her coat, revealing a fitted black dress underneath, and glanced at the cold, luxurious apartment and Victor, who was clearly in a bad mood.
Without any further pleasantries, a surge of suppressed emotions and physical needs raged within Victor.
Victor pulled her close almost roughly, and what followed was like a cold, spacious storm in the bedroom, filled with a struggle of conquest and subjugation, more of a form of catharsis than intimacy.
Viktor leaned against the headboard, silently smoking a cigar.
Svetlana stood up and dressed gracefully and quickly in front of Viktor, without any hesitation, as if what had just happened was just a business meeting that needed to be organized.
She walked to the window, looked at the still dazzling night view outside, lit a slender cigarette, and exhaled a wisp of smoke from her red lips.
She spoke, her voice carrying a languid Russian accent, yet sharp as an icicle:
"The great Victor Lee, world boxing champion, business tycoon, King of Windy City... couldn't find anyone to keep him company on Christmas Eve, and like a stud, had to call me to satisfy his physical needs? And after it was over, he still had this look on his face as if a friend had died?"
Viktor glared at her, his eyes dark.
Svetlana scoffed, turned around, leaned against the glass, and sized him up: "Don't look at me like that, Victor. Am I wrong? Look at you, owning one-eighth of Chicago, yet you're like a poor orphan guarding a pile of gold."
In the boxing ring, people fear you; in the business world, people are wary of you. But what surrounds you? A group of employees who take your salaries, a group of shareholders who hope to make money off you, and lovers like me, each getting what they want.
She took a few steps closer, smoke swirling around her beautiful yet cold face: "You don't even have a single friend who would come over and ask you 'What's wrong?' when you slam the phone down. Not a single one."
How pathetic and laughable! You won the game, made countless money, and then what? You go back to this cold, golden cage and rage alone? You're truly pathetic! Viktor…”
Every word was like a knife, precisely stabbing Viktor in the place he least wanted to be touched.
He wanted to argue back, to tell her to shut up, but found that his throat felt blocked.
Because what she said, damn it, was all true.
His rage and his emptiness were laid bare under Svetlana's cold dissection.
"Finished?"
He finally managed to squeeze out a few words, his voice hoarse.
"That's it."