At eight o'clock in the morning on Christmas Day, Leon was awakened by the soft sound of footsteps in the room.
He rubbed his eyes, sat up, and stretched.
As his vision cleared, he saw Taylor was already dressed, with exquisite makeup on her face.
A long khaki trench coat, a white scarf paired with long boots, and her signature red lips created a full winter vibe.
She was standing by the floor-to-ceiling window holding "Christmas." In the background, the streets outside were already buried in a blanket of white.
A heavy snow had suddenly fallen at 3 AM and had just stopped ten minutes ago.
"Awake so early, honey?"
"My head feels a bit heavy; maybe I caught a cold."
Leon shook his head, unwilling to admit that his body had been hollowed out in the great battle last night.
"It's snowing outside. You can stay in bed all day, honey." Taylor pecked his cheek lightly with her red lips. "I'm so sorry I can't be with you today. Hopefully, this snow won't delay my flight..."
"I won't stay in bed all day; that's too stupid. I'll go to the company later." Leon got up and dressed. "Hurry and let the driver take you to the airport. Don't let your mother wait too long."
"Workaholic!" Taylor rolled her eyes slightly.
After kissing and hugging, she reluctantly said goodbye.
She took the Siamese cat, which was fawning to the point of almost becoming a spirit, back to her home in Nashville.
On Christmas Day, there were few people on the streets of Tribeca. The usually noisy Lower Manhattan seemed to have become an empty city.
On both sides of the street, only sporadic pedestrians were walking. They were the few elites who could settle down here.
There were almost no cars on the Brooklyn Bridge, which was always congested throughout the year. However, the terrible road conditions caused by the heavy snow forced Leon to drive his Bentley slowly.
"Damn it..."
Not touching the steering wheel for a long time made his driving skills slightly rusty.
Because usually, with Jorge by his side, he rarely drove himself.
Yesterday morning, the Mexican Iron Man, who worked high-intensity 24 hours a day year-round, finally returned to Chicago to spend Christmas with his granddaughter and would not return until three days later.
The tires slipped slightly when the steering wheel was turned sharply. The weighted and lengthened body increased the difficulty of driving in bad weather.
From Tribeca to Downtown Brooklyn, a one-hour drive took Leon full three hours.
The company was empty now. Even the most cold-blooded capitalist wouldn't dare ask employees to work overtime on Christmas Day.
To his surprise, as soon as he got out of the elevator, he heard Phil's roar coming from the agency office.
"Goddamnit! Shoot, you bastards! What are you waiting for!"
"The Second Amendment gives you the power to overthrow tyranny!"
"Pick up your guns, you cowardly sissies! What savior are you still expecting?"
A series of dangerous remarks like those of a terrorist attracted Leon's attention.
Long-term alcohol abuse can cause permanent damage to the central nervous system, presenting symptoms of paranoia, mania, and delusion, and may even lead to schizophrenia.
"Is there something wrong with this old geezer's mental state?"
With curiosity, Leon pushed the door open and walked in. A strong smell of tobacco and alcohol mixed with sweat almost made him faint.
Beer bottles and cigarette butts were scattered all over the floor.
Phil held half a bottle of whiskey, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, all his attention focused on the FOX News channel on TV.
Seeing Leon appear suddenly, he was very surprised. "Even the President is busy spending Christmas with his family. Shouldn't you be with that chick Taylor? Look at you, looking like your soul has been sucked away by a woman."
"Working hard even on Christmas Day, I should give you the Model Employee Award." Leon teased, opening the window to disperse the smoke.
"That's because I have nowhere else to go. Even the bars are closed." Phil spread his hands. "My ex-wife, that bitch, should be rolling in the sheets with some damn ngga right now, in the house I bought, in front of my kids."
"This is just too fking magical—"
A year and a half ago, when the two first met in Brownsville, Phil was still a down-and-out agent relying on credit cards to keep up appearances.
His financial situation has undergone earth-shaking changes now.
He is now the helmsman of Apocalypse Agency, controlling the business resources of many celebrities such as Leon, King Von, Conor, and Anya, with a business scope spanning the sports and entertainment industries.
This brought him millions of dollars in income every year, surpassing his peak period at Epic Records.
However, success in his career failed to make any changes to his terrible family relationships. The only change was that the bills paid for his ex-wife every month increased.
Because of his career success, his ex-wife was able to hire multiple fitness coaches, and his son finally fulfilled his long-cherished wish—lying on the operating table and becoming a real girl!
Life after having money was even more hellish for Phil than before.
"Don't complain endlessly like a loser. As long as you are willing to spend a little more money, the bitches in Manhattan Beach will be happy to spend Christmas with you, a lonely old man." Leon smiled and said, "They are all good girls with loving hearts."
"You bastard really know how to comfort people." Phil snorted coldly and pointed to the TV screen. "Watch the news. Jay-Z's headline was stolen."
In the live broadcast, a group of "Occupy Wall Street protesters" were standing in the snow in Zuccotti Park, facing hundreds of heavily armed police officers.
Reporters from FOX News reported from the front line: "Zuccotti Park, Manhattan. More than 4,000 demonstrators had a violent conflict with the police. They threw Molotov cocktails at the police. They demanded a dialogue with Mayor Bloomberg and Senator Charlie..."
"NYPD Commissioner McMahon is trying his best to maintain order at the scene. He promised not to use violent means to disperse the protesters..."
"Holy sht!"
The reporter was slapped in the face just after reporting peace. Officers holding riot shields suddenly waved batons to fight back against the demonstrators.
Curses rose everywhere, demonstrators charged frantically at the police formation, and the scene was in chaos.
"Look, the headline of the Jay-Z tape incident was stolen." Phil swallowed a mouthful of whiskey and revealed a meaningful smile: "Good job, kid, but I have to remind you, be careful not to drive that ngga crazy... It is said that Beyoncé is gathering a top lawyer team. She seems determined to divorce."
"What does this have to do with me?" Leon played dumb.
He was the mastermind behind the sneak shots of Jay-Z and Rachel. Only Sean and Gary knew about this.
Even before the video was uploaded to Pornhub, Sean didn't know what was on the tape.
Gary's mouth would only be tighter. He had committed an unforgivable sin against Jay-Z, so he would never leak information about Leon's client no matter what.
"Stop pretending, kid. Except for you, I can't think of anyone who dares to do such a thing to Jay-Z." Phil grinned. "You are truly the most insidious, cunning, and shameless bastard I have ever seen..."
Leon shrugged and didn't reply. The other party could think whatever he wanted.
If the news Phil just mentioned was true, he could officially make a move on radio station Z100 after the Christmas holiday.
Divorce would be a fatal blow to Jay-Z. Bacardi originally planned to acquire D'Ussé Cognac for $220 million, but it didn't mean the brand was really worth that much money.
The acquisition contract would inevitably contain clauses requiring the Jay-Z and Beyoncé couple to continue to stand for the brand.
Losing Beyoncé, D'Ussé Cognac might depreciate by more than half.
For Ace of Spades Champagne, the impact would be the same.
With his career suffering a major blow and having to deal with divorce proceedings involving hundreds of millions of dollars in assets, Jay-Z, even if he were Superman, would simply have no time to care about radio station Z100.
iHeartMedia thought it could benefit from the struggle between two superstars and sell the radio station at a price far exceeding the market valuation.
Now it seems that the seemingly shrewd Bob's calculations are bound to fail.
Except for Leon, who is eager to unify the East Coast music radio business, no one is willing to acquire Z100 at a price exceeding the valuation.
From then on, whose songs New York music radio stations promoted would be entirely up to him.
On the TV screen, the conflict between demonstrators and the police intensified.
Demonstrators fell to the ground bleeding constantly. Reporters eagerly tried to contact the Pentagon to get more information from officials.
No one from the ruling Democratic Party stood up to express their views. Instead, heavyweights from the Republican Party frequently launched fierce attacks on the demonstrators.
Republican House Majority Leader Cantor cursed loudly, calling the demonstrators "unruly people" and "social parasites."
On such an important day as Christmas, in front of audiences across America, the brutally frank remarks stunned everyone in front of the TV.
Republican presidential candidate Herman Cain made even more shocking remarks. He stated: "Don't blame Wall Street, don't blame the big banks. If you don't have a job, you can't find a woman, and you aren't rich, blame yourself."
"This bastard completely betrayed his own race and class." Phil sneered.
Herman Cain was an African American from the South. His father was a driver and his mother was a cleaner. His family wasn't wealthy.
However, in the TV speech just now, he completely stood on the elite's standpoint, criticizing those poor people from lower-middle-class families like himself.
Figures in New York's political and business circles, regardless of party affiliation, held critical attitudes towards the "Occupy Wall Street movement."
The only one speaking up for them turned out to be a real estate businessman, Donald Trump, President of the Trump Organization.
Standing downstairs at his own Trump Tower, surrounded by a circle of reporters, he talked incessantly.
Pulling his hands back and forth like an accordion player, "Those demonstrators occupying Wall Street... they are the true patriots. Their ancestors have lived on this land for generations. They created everything in America!"
"It is all because of the inaction of Democratic politicians that those illegal immigrants stole jobs that should belong to Americans. The policies formulated by the Pentagon are extremely stupid. They never put America first..."
His speech was incredibly smooth and even carried a trace of humor. Even top talk shows couldn't achieve such an effect.
"I think this guy might really ascend to the presidential throne one day..." Leon stared at the screen and muttered to himself.
Trump had been involved in politics since 2000. He showed the same madman posture as in business, targeting the presidential throne from the very beginning.
After repeatedly jumping between the Democratic and Republican parties many times, he didn't even touch the shadow of the general election.
Finally, he withdrew from the Republican Party again early this year and completely died down.
"Do you really believe that bastard genuinely considers the poor?" Phil mocked, "Man, I think you should take your meds. That guy's family got rich running brothels. Believing he can bring benefits to the poor is like believing Gates is really willing to donate all his property!"
"What his real purpose for saying these words is doesn't matter to me at all." Leon shook his head.
"I know you too well. Whatever you kid wants to do, you only consider it from your own interests!"
Phil poured him half a glass of whiskey and poured half a glass for himself. "Merry Christmas, fk. Saying such blessings to you is really stupid..."
While the two were excitedly exchanging political opinions, the special report that lasted for nearly an hour ended abruptly.
Jay-Z's figure appeared on the screen. FOX News unexpectedly inserted an entertainment news item into the massive group demonstration movement.
An hour ago, Jay-Z and Beyoncé participated in a Christmas performance together, singing Crazy In Love.
During the recording process, there was zero communication between the two. When singing the chorus, the smile on Jay-Z's face looked worse than if his mother had died.
Got me looking so crazy right now
Your love's got me looking so crazy right now
In order not to violate the pre-signed contract and to maintain public image as much as possible after the scandal broke out, both of them finally bit the bullet and completed this performance.
Together, they presented the weirdest Christmas love song duet in TV history.
After the program recording ended, Jay-Z, Beyoncé, and Beyoncé's sister Solange left together.
He stubbornly chose to take the same elevator as Beyoncé, never letting go of any opportunity to save his marriage.
Unexpectedly, this became his second nightmare of this Christmas.
"What the hell..."
Phil and Leon stared at the TV, exclaiming in unison.
In the surveillance footage, as soon as Jay-Z entered the elevator, he grabbed Beyoncé's hand, seemingly begging bitterly.
Before he could finish a complete sentence, Beyoncé's sister Solange suddenly went berserk.
Jumping up, she landed a solid uppercut squarely on Jay-Z's chin.
A person's chin is very fragile. As long as the position is hit correctly, it doesn't take much force to make a person dizzy.
Facing his sister-in-law's full-force blow, Jay-Z immediately swayed and collapsed limply.
"Beautiful uppercut..."
Seeing this punch, the heroic figure of Ryu using Shoryuken in the arcade game Street Fighter flashed in Leon's mind.
The perpetrator was the employer's sister-in-law. Jay-Z's two bodyguards could only freeze in place, completely unsure of what to do.
After Jay-Z fell to the ground, Solange's attack not only didn't stop but became even crazier.
She straddled him with her legs apart, swinging both arms left and right, slapping Jay-Z's cheeks.
Slap slap slap—The arrogant King of Brooklyn was rubbed on the ground by a woman like a bitch.
But he dared not fight back, not even daring to have a thought of fighting back.
Looking at Beyoncé with aggrieved eyes, attempting to trade his dignity for his wife's sympathy in this way.
Unfortunately, this trick didn't seem to work.
Beyoncé watched coldly the whole time without saying a word.
As soon as the elevator door opened, she walked away in her high heels without looking back.
Jay-Z originally thought he had just endured a beating, but unexpectedly, just ten minutes later, this video was sold to the media by the surveillance management staff.
Having his ugly state in bed appreciated by the world on Christmas Eve, and then being critically hit by his sister-in-law on TV on Christmas Day, losing all face.
The image of the "East Coast Hip-hop Emperor" managed for nearly twenty years was smashed to pieces.
"This might be the most unforgettable Christmas of his life for Jay-Z." Phil said, "That ngga might really be finished... his persona has completely collapsed."
"Kid... your era is really coming."
For a rapper, shaping one's character in the public eye is more important than creating excellent works.
Under the double heartbreak combo of Christmas, Jay-Z's personas of both doting husband and big boss have collapsed into a complete mess.
"At least that guy regained the headline with his own strength, didn't he?" Leon curled his lip mockingly. "Have you seen any singer who can grab the headline of the news channel from a large group of Pentagon officials?"
"From this point of view, he is indeed a superstar comparable to MJ."