Chapter 5: Secret Struggles Within a Wealthy Family

The news of Olympus Capital's change of ownership and the launch of a $2.5 billion top-tier Manhattan hotel project hit New York's business world like a bombshell.

Wall Street analysts worked through the night revising their reports, trying to piece together Mr. Rosecrest's background. Partners from architecture firms personally led their teams to prepare bidding proposals. Real estate developers frantically tried to find out who might have a chance to become a partner in this mega project.

The ladies of high society were concerned with a different question: How old is Mr. Rosecrest? Is he single?

All of New York was guessing, but no one knew the answer.

Except the Wilson family.

They had zero interest in this.

Not that they didn't want to cozy up to him—they simply couldn't reach that high.

Wilson Properties had been operating in Queens for thirty years, and their biggest project was worth no more than twenty million dollars.

Companies at Olympus Capital's level? They didn't even know the street address.

But Eleanor didn't see it that way.

At three in the afternoon, she sat in the company office, eyes gleaming as she stared at her computer screen.

$2.5 billion.

Next to the San Remo in Manhattan.

Top-tier hotel complex.

Her hands were shaking.

"The Wilson family's chance to turn things around has come," she muttered to herself. "If we can connect with Olympus Capital, we can go from being a second-rate Queens family to Manhattan high society."

She grabbed the phone: "Notify all family members. Tonight at eight, Queens. Emergency family meeting. No one is allowed to be absent."

The secretary asked carefully: "Ma'am, Erin and her husband... should we notify them too?"

She sneered: "Notify them. This time I want all Wilson blood present, including that useless Ethan."

7:50 PM, Queens.

I parked the beat-up used car in front of the Wilson mansion. This house was built in the 1980s, with outdated decor, but back in the day it was considered one of the notable mansions in Queens.

Just as I turned off the engine, a brand new Porsche 911 roared up and stopped beside me.

Michael stepped out with a cigar in his mouth, leaning against the car door with an expression like he'd just smelled something disgusting.

"Jesus, Ethan, that piece of junk still runs?" He flicked his cigar ash. "How about I lend you some money to get a decent car? Oh wait... you don't deserve to drive a decent car. And what gives you the right to attend our meeting anyway?"

Several young family members nearby laughed.

Erin's face flushed red: "Michael, shut up! Grandma required all family members to be present. Ethan is my husband, of course he has the right to attend!"

Michael laughed loudly: "What kind of family member is he? Just a freeloader, a piece of trash. At the meeting later, you two just sit in the corner and keep quiet, so you don't embarrass everyone."

He flicked away his cigar and strutted through the front door.

I remained calm and said quietly: "Don't pay attention to him. If a dog bites you, are you going to bite back?"

Erin looked at him, puzzled: "Why do you always put up with this?"

I smiled: "Because arguing with idiots is a waste of life."

I took Erin's hand and walked toward the door.

A thought flashed through my mind: jumping clown.

At the meeting later, I'll make all of you understand who the real trash is.

8 PM, the conference hall.

Both sides of the long oak table were filled with Wilson family members.

Michael and Victoria sat in positions close to the head of the table, looking arrogant.

Erin and I were placed in the farthest corner, like two extra people.

Eighty-five-year-old Eleanor slowly took her seat, leaning on her gem-encrusted cane.

She surveyed the room, her cloudy eyes gleaming with greed.

The cane struck the floor three times.

"Quiet! The meeting begins!"

Everyone held their breath.

"The Wilson family has been struggling to survive all these years." Eleanor's voice was raspy but strong. "We've been missing an opportunity—an opportunity to break into Manhattan high society. Today, that opportunity has arrived."

She paused, her gaze sweeping over everyone.

"Olympus Capital's $2.5 billion project is the ladder to heaven that God has given the Wilson family."

The room fell silent.

"This is the first major project since Olympus Capital changed hands. The new owner will definitely be personally involved. If we can secure even a small portion of the partnership, and make a good impression on that gentleman, the Wilson family's future will be limitless."

Eleanor tapped her cane, emphasizing her words: "Whoever can make this connection will lead the Wilson family to the next level."

After she finished, she looked expectantly at everyone present.

The conference hall fell into a deathly silence.

Michael looked down at his phone. Victoria checked her nail polish. Other family members exchanged glances, but no one wanted to be the first to speak.

Everyone was thinking the same thing: Wilson Properties can't even get through Olympus Capital's door—is she dreaming?

Eleanor waited thirty seconds, then slammed her cane on the table.

"What? Cat got your tongues?!"

No one answered.

"Don't you even have the confidence to grab a few scraps from a $2.5 billion project?"

Still silence.

Eleanor trembled with anger: "What's the point of the Wilson family raising you useless people!"

The air froze. Not a single person dared to meet her eyes.

Eleanor took a deep breath, put down her cane, and her voice became cold and clear.

"Since you're all cowards, I'll put it this way. Whoever can secure a $50 million partnership from Olympus Capital," she paused for three seconds, "will become the Director of Wilson Properties."