America's No. 1 financial conglomerate

Chapter 87 The So-Called High Society

Crystal chandeliers cast a dazzling halo of light from the dome of the banquet hall, which reflected off the smooth, mirror-like marble floor, revealing the silhouettes of elegantly dressed women.

When Ernst returned, the long platform had already been set up in front of him, and the round dining tables arranged in a staggered pattern below the platform were like water lilies adorning the carpet.

Each seat was set with engraved silver cutlery and stemmed glasses, where champagne bubbles rose gently, creating a unique background sound that mingled with the hushed conversations of the guests.

Everyone was waiting for the charity auction, which had long since passed its scheduled start time, to begin, but Ernst seemed out of place.

On the table in front of him were two plates side by side, with a steaming Wellington steak on one plate and a silver plate piled with salad and roasted asparagus on the other.

"You haven't had dinner yet, have you?"

A slightly teasing voice came from beside him. Ernst looked up and chuckled, only to see Jobs holding a wine glass and scrutinizing him. It was quite a strange coincidence that the two of them were seated at the same table.

"Do you think I have time to eat?" Ernst swallowed the beef in his mouth, his fork making a crisp sound as it scraped across the plate.

Jobs thought about it and agreed. He hadn't arrived too late. The two then chatted for a while before John Reed called him away. He had just reappeared.

Thinking of this, Jobs glanced at the podium and asked curiously, "What happened? Why don't I see John Reed?"

Standing on the stage to give a speech was Citibank Vice President Greenster, but Citibank CEO John Reid, who was supposed to be hosting the opening ceremony, was nowhere to be seen.

Ernst tilted his head and glanced at him, then chewed the food in his mouth carefully before swallowing it. He said slowly, "You need to see him? Then you'll probably have to go to the hospital."

Ernst just couldn't understand it. Didn't Wall Street have any hard requirements for hiring executives? It's terrifying that people in finance have high blood pressure and heart disease.

The old man was so angry that his blood pressure spiked and he fainted on the spot. No wonder he couldn't come to the opening ceremony.

"You didn't beat him up, did you?" Jobs exclaimed in a low voice, clearly having the wrong idea.

I'll beat him up? Do you think I'm rich and not afraid of being extorted?

Seeing Ernst roll his eyes and look that he didn't want to answer this idiotic question, Jobs glanced at the tables in front of him and understood.

At the very front, all the major Wall Street giants had arrived.

Few people may have noticed that these people entered right after Ernst.

Considering John Reed's earlier actions of calling Ernst away and then taking him to the hospital, Jobs, though unaware of the specifics, could guess the general outline.

Those Wall Street financial tycoons, anyone in the real economy, despise them, and Steve Jobs knew this all too well.

When he was ousted from Apple, the shadow of Wall Street capital was looming behind him.

Because he threatened the interests of these people, he insisted on investing huge sums in R&D every year, which made the Wall Street shareholders at Apple feel that it was completely unnecessary.

Clearly, Wall Street wanted to take down Ernst this time, but instead, they were outmaneuvered by him.

Jobs was about to praise the work done when he was interrupted by a sudden voice.

"Hey, I heard you got so angry with that old man John Reed that you were hospitalized with high blood pressure?"

Ernst felt a light tap on his shoulder. He turned around, his face instantly filled with astonishment: "What are you doing here?"

The man who arrived was none other than Massim, the middle-aged man he had met at a yacht party more than two weeks ago.

I still vividly remember the image of him wearing simple underwear on the deck, sipping whiskey and stroking a woman's buttocks. Now, dressed in a suit, he exudes a refined and elegant air.

Massim laughed heartily, turned and whispered a few words to the man sitting next to Ernst, who immediately got up and gave up his seat.

Ernst felt a chill run down his spine. He had only sensed that the other party had considerable power on the yacht, but now it seemed that he had underestimated him.

Those who can attend a charity gala of this caliber all possess considerable status and background. And the man who offered his seat just now wasn't just being polite; he genuinely felt honored.

What bothered him even more was how Massim knew that John Reed was hospitalized due to high blood pressure.

Ernst subtly elevated the other person's status in his mind by two levels, put down his knife and fork, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and said, "You still haven't said why you're here."

"Shouldn't I be here?" Massim chuckled. "If you can come, why can't I?"

That makes sense, and Ernst was speechless.

He raised his glass and clinked it with the other person's, then introduced Massim and Jobs to each other.

However, Jobs reverted to his arrogant demeanor, giving off an indifferent vibe.

Massim didn't try to win him over; it was as if the other person was just a name.

Ernst chatted with both men simultaneously, like a social butterfly who knew how to please everyone.

On the stage, the charity auction officially began, but it mainly featured oil paintings and jewelry.

"Aren't you going to call out the price twice?" Ernst asked, looking at Massim.

"Who would buy this junk?" Massim said dismissively, looking uninterested. "These are just props for the big shots in the front row to put on a show."

Ernst chuckled; in just a few words, he succinctly captured the essence of this charity gala.

"Given your personality, if you're not interested, why bother joining in the fun?"

Massim suddenly turned around, looking directly at him with a playful expression, "You talk as if you know me very well."

The two did spend only two days and one night on the yacht, but Ernst could tell that the other person was the type who clearly distinguished between love and hate, being frank when he liked someone and never hiding his dislike for them.

Just as I was about to retort, Massim changed the subject, saying, "This is just an appetizer; the real fun is yet to come."

Ernst was taken aback again. There were things he didn't know?

The auction continued, and when Greenster went on stage to announce that a total of $1137 million had been raised for charity, Ernst still didn't see anything interesting that Massim had mentioned.

However, he soon realized something was wrong. Reporters who had been granted entry began to leave one after another, and many important figures had also left, but most of the guests remained in their seats.

"Ha," Massim raised an eyebrow at Ernst. "Our auction has finally begun."

After a ten-minute break, the auctioneer returned to the stage, and a landscape photograph lit up on the large screen behind him.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I won't go into too much detail. This piece has a starting bid of $20."

Ernst nearly spat out the champagne he had just drunk, pointing at the screen with a "Are you kidding me?" look on his face.

"A lousy photograph? Starting bid $20?"

The filming skills are not as good as mine; besides being a little clearer, they are nothing special.

At least his own works feature a multitude of beautiful women and are full of nude art.

Massim smiled knowingly: "You think you're buying a photograph? You're buying what's in the photograph."

Ernst looked up and his eyes widened instantly. "You mean the little lion inside?"

Seeing Massim nod, he suddenly felt that he had broadened his horizons today.

What surprised him even more was that the person who bought the item was none other than the Hearst family child from before.

In the scene that followed, Ernst wondered if he was Jesus's biological son, the reincarnation of the Holy Son, and if he was being too damn kind.

Tiger cubs, ivory, rhinoceros horns, and even a well-trained eagle—the national bird of America!

A bunch of Americans gathered together to auction off America's national bird—that's quite a ridiculous situation.

Even more outrageous is that you can also pre-order organs and blood.

Once you place the order, this person becomes your portable blood bank; when you need them, that's when the two of you complete the transaction.

"What does this mean? Don't tell me it's the woman in the photo that's being auctioned off."

"What else could it be?" Massim asked with a look of disgust. "Could it be her clothes?"

"One night?"

"Are you going to marry him?" Massim was now regretting sitting next to Ernst. Was it really necessary to make such a fuss?

"A starting bid of $100,000? That's enough to hit on a top Hollywood actress."

When Ernst saw that Massim had moved the chair he was sitting on a bit, he immediately pulled it back.

"You don't know anything. These people don't need to spend money to find female celebrities. Do you understand the importance of ritual? Form is more important than desire."

Ernst was shocked and bewildered when he saw that Xiao Dao had opened another hole in his anus.

Is this what they call high society?

Isn't this just plain insane?

Sure enough, no wonder people say that the rich are the easiest to swindle; if they don't swindle you, who else would they swindle?

This made Ernst sigh, realizing that American financial giants really do make money from anything.