Since the foundation was so cooperative, William didn't mind praising them a bit.
"Thanks to the foundation's operational team for not only adhering to their professional ethics and principles but also being considerate of the donors."
As the usually sharp-tongued William smiled and offered these rare words of praise, both journalists and foundation staff held their breath, waiting for him to announce a follow-up donation.
But instead of the generous offer they hoped for, William delivered a figurative punch to the gut.
He wasn't the type to donate without a clear purpose. Random acts of charity were not his style.
Recalling the Americans' interest in his spacecraft, a sly smile crept onto his face.
In this era, outright controlling a country as an individual was impossible.
However, controlling a significant portion of a nation's infrastructure—enough to influence half the population's access to water, electricity, and gas—was still very feasible.
If he could achieve that, it would tie his fate to that of the average citizen. Even without aiming for maximum profit, people would naturally prefer his continued stability. After all, a change in ownership might mean higher living costs.
With England's upper echelons already in his pocket, winning over the common people would effectively bring half of English society onto his side.
As for the entire nation rallying behind him, even William wasn't arrogant enough to believe that.
Apologizing to his viewers, he explained that he needed to contact his family about transferring funds.
Picking up the broadcast sphere, he tossed it out of the cockpit and used the spaceship's communication system to contact Lena, sharing some of his plans.
Feigning forgetfulness, William left the spaceship's communication on loudspeaker, allowing the broadcast sphere to transmit every word back to Earth. Strangely, Sunday didn't remind him of this oversight, as if it had temporarily crashed.
When the call connected, William laughed and repeated the idea of minting commemorative coins, joking that the first batch of Martian gold should be turned into limited-edition coins with controlled quantities.
He then declared, half-seriously, that all future batches of Martian gold would be minted into coins bearing his portrait and Olympus Mons.
"When there are a hundred million Devonshire Coins in the world, I think I'll never be forgotten."
"You're insane, William," Lena exclaimed, genuinely shocked despite knowing this call was part of an act.
"A hundred million coins? That's ten thousand tons of gold! Are you trying to crash the global gold market?"
"Not a chance," William replied with a shake of his head. "I'm not planning to circulate this gold. It'll stay in the family vault, untouched.
"And besides, even if I'm bringing back 1,500 tons of gold a year from Mars, that's nothing compared to the annual gold consumption of two major Asian countries.
"Add to that the increasing demand for gold in industrial applications, and as long as I don't start shipping back thousands of tons annually, gold prices will remain stable, if not rise over time."
To reassure Lena, he elaborated further.
"Mom, trust me. If I announce that 1,000 tons of Martian gold will be minted into 10 million coins for private storage, the price of gold will stop dropping and start climbing immediately."
"That... might actually be true," Lena admitted after some thought.
"If only you didn't act so recklessly, there are plenty of people out there eager to buy gold to preserve their wealth right now."
"And even for our family, I'd argue that holding onto gold is better than cash. After all, pounds and dollars are just paper and numbers in a bank account.
"Not to mention, I already have over £2 billion in my accounts, and yours combined must exceed £20 billion, right?"
"Damn it."
"Oh my God."
Hearing Lena's words, viewers around the world couldn't help but curse out loud, their heads throbbing with jealousy.
Damn those Devonshires. They make money faster than banks print it, and now they have the audacity to call it 'just paper.'
While the world seethed, Lena, following William's script, said something that thrilled England's audience.
"William, the Devonshire family has been part of England for generations.
"You were personally knighted by King Philip, with hundreds of notable figures as witnesses, and hold the title of hereditary grand duke.
"While enjoying the prestige and respect of the English people, it's only right to contribute to England where we can.
"So, I suggest that in the future, all the gold you bring back to London be used to pay taxes directly.
"The more gold our family and England have, the better protected the pound's value will be.
"And a stable, prosperous England ultimately benefits our family as well.
"As for the money we earn each year, instead of keeping it in the bank, we could invest in infrastructure projects that no one else is willing to fund.
"These projects may have low returns, but they're stable and secure.
"For people like us, who don't even know where to spend our money, it's a perfect solution."
"Hold on, Mom," William interrupted with a sly smile.
Even if they planned to proceed, they couldn't make it seem like they were eager.
He understood all too well that offering something too willingly would make others view it with suspicion or undervalue it entirely.
People are like that—help them out of goodwill, and not only do they fail to appreciate it, but they'll also assume you're benefiting somehow.
No, they needed to beg for your help, believe that you're reluctantly agreeing, and think they've come out ahead. Only then would things go smoothly.
"Giving back to society is fine by me, but who in their right mind would invest in infrastructure projects with a measly 5% annual return?"
William sighed, shaking his head.
"Don't forget, people are never satisfied.
"Even if we take over England's crumbling infrastructure out of goodwill, the unions here are notoriously difficult. Haven't there been enough reports about their antics?
"These people don't care if your investments are losing money. They'll still demand, 'Since the Devonshire family is so wealthy, what's a little loss to you? Just consider it your contribution to society.'
"I don't want to waste my time and energy haggling with them every day. With that time, I could probably make ten times as much money.
"So, if we're going to give back to society, wouldn't it be simpler, easier, and safer to donate directly to women, children, and other vulnerable groups?"
"This..." Lena hesitated, unsure how to respond.
Their discussion had already touched on two key interest groups in England.
But when it came to choosing between infrastructure workers and vulnerable groups like single mothers or orphans, most of England's populace didn't need much convincing.
On one side, you had people who were getting by but just barely. On the other, you had those truly in need. The choice was obvious.
While most English viewers weren't surprised by William's disinterest in low-return industries, Lena's background made her words particularly compelling.
Having struggled for over a decade at the bottom of society, Lena's rise alongside William had been widely publicized in recent years.
But no hardship compared to that of single mothers.
For Lena, playing the good cop in this scenario was a role that fit her perfectly.
(End of Chapter)
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