“Oh, our genius great writer has finally arrived.
As expected of a great writer, he has many fans, and dealing with them is troublesome.
It’s normal for some accidents to happen.” As soon as he entered the room, a sarcastic voice sounded in Ernst’s ear.
Following the voice, on a single sofa sat an old white man in his forties, wearing a white T-shirt with a knitted cardigan, casual trousers, and small leather shoes, holding a red wine glass and crossing his legs.
Kirk Kerkorian — this was an allusion to the incident at the police station earlier.
Because when Jessica Alba first approached Ernst, it was in the name of a fan.
“Mr.
Kerkorian, compared to your romantic escapades in Las Vegas, what are my trivial matters?” In 1969, Kerkorian acquired a controlling stake in MGM, and later directly led MGM into the gambling industry, opening the first MGM Grand Hotel in 1973.
When a person’s status reaches a point where he believes he controls everything, he will swell with pride, and the little devil in his heart will constantly emerge.
Just like Kerkorian, he would set up loan traps for beautiful women who suited his taste, making them fall deeper and deeper into his schemes.
When they couldn’t repay their debts, he would be like God, begged by these women, who would fulfill his every request, becoming his obedient bitches until they lost their usefulness and were sold to brothels to continue repaying his debts.
Ernst scoffed at this practice of not paying after prostitution and then exploiting the last bit of their remaining value.
“Your attire today is quite unique, Mr.
Kerkorian.
Has something changed?
A stand-up collar, I’ve only seen such an outfit on kittens and puppies that have just been neutered.” Ernst retorted sharply, not giving him any face, and the temperature in the room instantly dropped.
Kerkorian glared angrily, “You little bastard, if your father hadn’t managed MGM so well for me back then, would you even be standing here talking to me today?” “Ha,” Ernst sneered, “Then you should thank me properly.
Calling me ‘Dad’ wouldn’t be an exaggeration, after all, you still know who raised you.” To put it bluntly, without Garrins, there would be no casino magnate Kerkorian today.
Kerkorian made his fortune through aircraft leasing, and his first acquisition of MGM relied on high leverage.
It was Garrins’s arrival that, despite MGM’s business not showing much improvement, its surplus grew steadily.
With money, Kerkorian was able to enter the gambling industry and the hotel industry, which was also why Garrins owned shares in MGM.
“You little ba…” Kerkorian flared up, but his words were cut off before he could finish.
“Gentlemen, today we are here to solve a problem, not for you two to have a private argument.” Sitting upright on the main sofa, dressed in a well-tailored Armani suit, a light blue shirt paired with a dark red tie, simple yet luxurious.
His meticulously styled blonde hair gleamed under the lights, and his deep blue eyes seemed to hold endless strategies.
Kirivio, the current major shareholder of MGM and the head of the Italian consortium, spoke up to break the dispute.
Before being invited, all parties had promised that today was about solving the problem.
The Italian consortium was heartbroken by Hollywood and wanted to withdraw as soon as possible.
The outside world also had strong opinions about Kerkorian selling MGM to develop the gambling and hotel industries, believing he had ruined this symbol of America.
The most difficult part was convincing Ernst to let go of his resentment towards Kerkorian.
Ernst’s agreement to attend this banquet to resolve the MGM issue meant Kirivio didn’t want the two sides to become hostile and ultimately disperse without a resolution.
A brief silence fell in the room, which Kerkorian finally broke, making the first concession.
“I can agree for Ernst to continue as a shareholder of MGM and remain on the board of directors.” Yes, Ernst was still a member of MGM’s board of directors, all thanks to Garrins’s blessings and his own efforts.
Garrins himself was a board member, and after his incident, Ernst had just become famous.
For such a future star, the Italian consortium wanted to make connections and leverage his fame, so they nominated him to follow in his father’s footsteps and become a member of MGM’s board of directors.
“And Jessica Alba, I can hand her over to you.” Kerkorian naively believed that the woman who had made Ernst infamous was the key, after all, who would oppose a super-rich magnate?
The current opposition was merely anger; given a step down, everything would return to interests.
This was America’s inherent mindset; how many people, for the sake of profit, would even kneel and call someone ‘Dad,’ a sight common in Hollywood.
In America, in the face of profit, there are no hard bones.
“Ernst?” Kirivio turned to him, his expression as if saying, ‘You see, Kerkorian is making a concession now, giving you a way out, you should make a statement.’ Ernst’s lips curved upward, but he didn’t show goodwill; instead, he answered irrelevantly.
“To my knowledge, MGM Hotels is investing in Europe, and their funds are already very tight, aren’t they?” Kerkorian shrugged, his tone relaxed and confident, “So what?
If I want to raise funds, a whole host of banks will be scrambling to lend to me.” Ernst, however, sneered, “If I remember correctly, the payment method for this acquisition is over a three-year period, right?” “What exactly do you want to say?” Kerkorian said seriously, impatience already showing on his face.
“To solve the problem, of course,” Ernst looked at Kirivio, “Your goal is simply to withdraw from MGM; does it make a difference who acquires it?
Since that’s the case, it’s the same if I acquire MGM.” Dead silence.
No one had expected Ernst to say such a thing.
Then came loud laughter; Kerkorian’s unrestrained laughter broke the calm.
“That’s hilarious, you’re still that ignorant little bastard.
You want to acquire MGM?
Do you have the money?
Don’t think that just because you’re a genius writer you can do whatever you want, you’re still far from it.” The Italian consortium’s stake was priced at 1.3 billion US dollars.
Ernst indeed didn’t have that much, but not having it now didn’t mean he wouldn’t have it later.
Kirivio initially thought Ernst was joking, but seeing his serious expression, he hesitated.
“Are you serious?” “Of course, 1.35 billion US dollars, paid over three years, with an initial payment of 100 million US dollars, and 500 million US dollars within one year.” Kirivio looked at Kerkorian.
With someone joining the competition, the Italians were naturally happy to see it.
“Do you believe his nonsense?
I won’t add a single cent.” He wanted to profit from the dispute, but Kerkorian didn’t fall for it.
“I need assurance,” Kirivio said with some regret, looking at Ernst again.
“I can sign an agreement that if any payment is overdue, my initial investment will be considered a friendly gesture.”