After roughly thirty minutes of flight, the helicopter landed on a coastal estate in Southampton, located on the eastern end of Long Island.
Zhu Momo, still brimming with excitement, clung to Simon's arm as they disembarked. Gazing at the three-story stone villa at the edge of the sprawling lawn, her eyes widened in awe. "This place is beautiful."
Compared to Manhattan's congestion, standing on the ten-acre estate felt like entering another world. Overhead was a clear blue sky; ahead stood the imposing villa; and behind them, the sound of crashing waves blended with the verdant summer surroundings. It was the kind of environment that instantly lightened one's mood.
Simon led the three girls toward the villa. To Zhu Momo, who was still holding onto him, he said, "If you like it, you can come here often."
Boldly, Zhu Momo looked up at him and asked, "Actually, I was wondering… could I own a place like this too?"
Simon smiled, unfazed by her ambition. His tone carried a subtle allure. "That depends on your performance."
His words sent a ripple through all three girls.
If they weren't driven by a hunger for fame and fortune, they wouldn't have dared to participate in Elite's modeling competition. In today's China, modeling was still seen by many as an unrespectable profession. But coming from Simon Westeros, a man with a net worth exceeding a trillion dollars and a reputation cemented by his recent visit to China, such a statement carried weight.
For him, gifting an estate like this might be as trivial as giving away a dress.
As they neared the villa, a group of maids awaited them respectfully at the entrance.
The Westeros family's properties, though scattered across the globe, were impeccably maintained by an ever-expanding team of attendants. Every property was ready for immediate use, maintained to a standard that cost Simon enough annually to purchase several estates like this one.
But money was never an issue for him.
When the group reached the villa's steps, a blonde woman who appeared to be the head maid approached and walked slightly behind Simon as he climbed the stairs. "Mr. Westeros, Ms. Davis will arrive in about thirty minutes. Is there anything you'd like in the meantime?"
Simon glanced at her. "What's your name?"
"Jill," the maid responded, pausing before adding, "Jill Packett."
Simon nodded. "Look into any parties happening in the Hamptons tonight—something relaxed. Also, have some clothes sent over for them." He gestured toward the three girls.
"Of course."
Jill quickly assessed the girls' figures, taking mental notes.
The group entered the villa. Its interior was as rustic as its exterior, with exposed stone walls, deep red wooden floors, and furniture made of raw wood. Though seemingly rough, the arrangement exuded a unique natural charm. The space had once featured animal trophies, but Simon had them removed, as they didn't suit his taste.
Zhu Momo, Jian Xin, and Tao Yuelai eagerly took in their surroundings. Hearing Simon's instructions to the maid, they exchanged expectant glances.
After crossing the main hall, Simon led them into a sitting room, sank into a sofa, and patted Zhu Momo on the waist as she joined him. "Show them around the villa. I'll rest for a bit," he instructed Jill.
"Would you like something to drink, sir?" Jill asked.
"Just a glass of water."
Though the three girls would've preferred Simon's company, they obediently followed Jill out of the room.
Outside, Jill delegated tasks to other staff: one maid was to guide the girls on a tour, while others were instructed to accommodate Simon's entourage in a guesthouse. On her way to the kitchen, Jill discreetly contacted Angie Davis to relay Simon's requests. Finally, she returned to the sitting room with a bottle of mineral water and a glass on a tray.
Placing the tray on the coffee table, Jill knelt on the carpet nearby and looked at Simon, who was flipping through a copy of Business Week. "Would you like to use the glass, sir?"
Simon shook his head. "No need."
Jill opened the bottle and placed it on the corner of the coffee table closest to Simon, then resumed her kneeling posture. The room fell silent.
After nearly ten minutes, Simon's voice broke the quiet. "You know, I like women to stay in that posture."
Jill hesitated briefly before nodding. "Yes, sir."
As a member of the Westeros household staff for nearly two years, Jill had gleaned enough about her employer's preferences through observation and whispers.
Simon turned another page in his magazine. "Tell me about yourself."
Caught off guard, Jill quickly composed herself. This was an opportunity to leave an impression on one of the most powerful men in the world.
"I graduated two years ago with a master's degree in applied mathematics from Princeton," she began. "I accepted this position because I believed it offered significant potential. After initial training, I was assigned to manage a property in Miami. Six months later, Ms. Davis transferred me to New York. Last month, she promoted me to oversee seven properties in Southampton."
"You seem to be doing well."
Jill nodded confidently. "I believe so, sir."
"And applied mathematics—I like people who are good at math."
"Thank you, sir. I also earned an MBA during the past two years."
Simon smiled, his attention half on his magazine. "Impressive, but you've missed the best timing. Opportunities like ABCD's—those early-stage benefits—are gone. Just like founding bonuses in a startup, the earliest team members often reap the highest rewards. Latecomers, no matter how talented, can never earn as much as original shareholders."
"I disagree, sir," Jill countered. "With the resources of the Westeros system, we still have advantages that most people can't dream of."
"What kind of opportunity do you want, then?"
"I'd like to become one of your women."
"And then?"
"Whatever opportunity you give me, I'll pursue it."
"In that case," Simon said, his gaze still on the magazine, "you know my habits. Leave your current position and become the personal maid for those three girls."
Jill processed his words and asked cautiously, "Do you mean… my opportunity lies in China?"
Simon finally looked up. "You're very perceptive."
Jill smiled faintly. From the moment she—a Princeton graduate—had been invited to join the Westeros household staff, she'd understood that intelligence was a prerequisite for the job. Patience and tenacity were equally essential.
She had waited two long years for this moment. Many others in her position had quit early, unable to endure the monotony or the distance from Simon. But Jill had endured, willing to play the long game.
If her wait had stretched to five years without progress, she had planned to leave and start her own endeavors, leveraging the connections and resources she'd gained during her tenure.
But now, her patience seemed to be paying off.
Simon closed the magazine and gestured for Jill to approach. She knelt closer to him, and he gently lifted her chin, studying her features: golden hair, blue eyes, a sharp nose, and soft, well-maintained skin. "Packett—that's a German name?"
Jill nodded. "Yes, sir. I was born in Germany but immigrated to the U.S. with my parents when I was three."
Simon released her chin with a faint smile. "That earns you an extra point. I like German women. Aside from their lack of humor, the Germanic people are among the world's finest."
Jill handed Simon the untouched bottle of water and looked at him intently. Though she remained silent, her curiosity about Simon's own heritage lingered.
Simon took a sip and said, "Regarding funds or resources—when the time comes, they'll be yours."
A moment later, Angie Davis arrived and seamlessly took over Jill's duties. Simon led the three girls on a brief tour of the estate before calling them back to the sitting room. They found racks of luxurious designer clothing, accessories, and shoes awaiting them, along with a professional styling team.
For the next two hours, the girls underwent a transformation. By the time they emerged, they had shed their modest backgrounds and become dazzling princesses.
It felt like a dream.
---
Later that evening, Simon selected a charity cocktail party hosted by S.I. Newhouse, the media tycoon behind Condé Nast. With a quick phone call, Newhouse was informed of Simon's intent to attend and eagerly extended his welcome.
At 8 PM, under the cover of summer night, Simon and the three girls arrived at Newhouse's East Hampton mansion in a stretch Rolls-Royce. The older man personally greeted them at the door.
"Simon, what a pleasant surprise! You'll be the highlight of the evening."
"Hopefully, I'm not intruding."
"Not at all."
After exchanging pleasantries with Simon, Newhouse turned his attention to the three stunning women at his side, shaking hands and offering lighthearted compliments.
Inside the mansion, the party was already in full swing. The moment Simon entered, heads turned, and gazes lingered.
Newhouse, noticing the attention Simon garnered, felt a twinge of discomfort but masked it well. Despite the pressure the Westeros system had placed on traditional media, Newhouse's family knew better than to slight Simon.
Simon moved effortlessly through the crowd, mingling with guests from the fashion, media, and financial worlds. Familiar faces like Anna Wintour and Cindy Crawford, whom he had seen at Jerry Hall's home the night before, greeted him warmly.
In this tight-knit circle, Simon's presence with three new beauties
barely raised an eyebrow. His relationships were an open secret, and people had grown accustomed to his ways.
---
As the evening progressed, Simon found himself face-to-face with George Soros and a middle-aged man introduced as David Rubenstein of the Carlyle Group. After brief pleasantries, Soros broached a sensitive topic: Simon's recent visit to Ukraine.
Simon kept the conversation light, emphasizing leisure rather than business. When Soros praised Simon's ability to live in "paradise every day," Simon joked about needing vacations nonetheless.
Soros shifted the topic to Simon's investment philosophy. "Your approach—sowing seeds everywhere—sounds simple, but the results speak for themselves: Egret, Cisco, AOL…"
Simon was nonchalant. "My moves are all visible, George. If you see potential, Quantum can follow suit."
Soros sighed. "The problem, Simon, is that we can't keep up."
Their conversation underscored the vast disparity between the Quantum Fund and Simon's vast empire. While Soros marveled at Simon's apparent nonchalance, the seeds Simon was planting—large and small—would grow to shape the future in ways few could predict.
Years later, when Simon's seeds blossomed across the globe, they wouldn't merely inspire awe—they'd cast long shadows over the world itself.
_________________________
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