Beverly Hills?
A place that has always been in the spotlight, the center of attention.
Imagine this: even now, Anson is living in an ordinary neighborhood, and the paparazzi are already annoying as flies that won't go away. If he moves to the top tier of the Hollywood pyramid, what kind of treatment will he face next?
Even with privacy walls, his daily life would probably still be far from peaceful.
But that's only part of the reason; there's also another very important factor:
It's the center of Hollywood.
Not only do top stars and wealthy elites come and go, but there are also countless parties every week; it's also become a symbolic location.
In the last couple of years, as transportation has become more convenient and global travel more accessible, tourism has flourished, and more and more people have been visiting Los Angeles.
Savvy businessmen saw an opportunity and started a new business:
Celebrity home tours.
Every day, countless tour buses shuttle tourists to Beverly Hills, where guides vividly describe the history of these homes and share celebrity gossip. The visitors come in droves, nonstop.
It's like a zoo.
Eventually, there was a wave of Hollywood stars fleeing from Beverly Hills, opting for quieter and more private mountain or harbor residences.
Hidden Hills, Santa Monica, Newport, Laguna Beach, and other places, like La Cañada, San Marino, and Bradbury in the inland areas—whether in the mountains or by the sea—these areas are slowly becoming new luxury home zones.
Over time, only a few people are willing to stay in Beverly Hills.
No wonder there's a saying among the wealthy: truly deep-rooted families often live in seclusion and wouldn't choose cities like Los Angeles or New York. They may have mansions or apartments there, but they usually reside in remote mountains or islands.
The deeper the roots, the more low-key; the shallower the roots, the more high-profile.
Poor people live in the city, rich people live in the suburbs, and the wealthy live in small towns. This is also a typical distribution of residential areas in major American cities.
Of course, this is not a rule, but it is a trend.
Not only Anson, but Charles and Nora also don't recommend living in Beverly Hills. It's like New York; if one doesn't move to the Hamptons for a secluded life, staying in Manhattan should mean avoiding places like the Upper East Side that are always in the spotlight.
James was stunned, "Beverly Hills is out of style? When did that happen?"
Anson chuckled, "Today."
James silently raised his middle finger.
Chris, full of excitement, asked, "So, where are you moving to? Santa Monica?"
"No, Malibu," Anson replied.
...
Malibu, a small city that wasn't established until 1991, has a history of just ten years but has already become a well-known holiday destination in Los Angeles.
Malibu is located to the west of Los Angeles, less than a 30-minute drive along the Pacific Coast Highway. To the north are the Santa Monica Mountains, and to the south is the Pacific Ocean. It is famous for its 27 miles of coastline and is a prime spot for surfing and vacations, with more than a dozen beaches.
Only about ten thousand people live in this city, without the noise of Santa Monica Beach, the luxury of Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills, or the vibe of Venice Beach. Instead, it exudes an unrefined wildness and freedom.
Because of this, in Malibu, these villas can have larger areas, far from the main roads, completely shielding them from the prying eyes of paparazzi and tourists, allowing one to enjoy a peaceful, seaside life. Among the various luxury home areas around Los Angeles, Malibu has always been extremely popular.
Although it's only 2002, and Beverly Hills is still a Hollywood landmark, top stars have not yet rushed to Malibu en masse; however, people like Steven Spielberg, Leonardo DiCaprio, and Tom Hanks have already had the foresight to quietly become Malibu residents.
And now, Anson joins them.
Early in the morning, waking up from a deep sleep, the golden sunlight pours in through an entire glass wall without obstruction. It isn't harsh but fills the entire space, and the soft glow stretches quietly across the room, lightly flowing over his eyelids, waking him up gently.
With a simple turn, he can see the spacious backyard:
Tall palm trees cast swaying shadows, covering half of a neatly trimmed green lawn. A shimmering swimming pool lies quietly like a piece of jelly, and beyond that is a specially built wing—
There is an entertainment room and a guest room, and Anson is also considering setting up a studio there specifically for meditation and work.
Beyond the backyard, the deep and clear blue Pacific Ocean extends infinitely into the horizon, vast and open, as if you could embrace the whole world with open arms.
And this area in front of him is just one corner of the mansion.
The entire property spans about fifty acres (20,000 square meters) and is divided into several different areas. The main house alone has five bedrooms, three bathrooms, two living rooms, a study, and a series of other spaces waiting to be designated with specific functions, not to mention the other parts of the property. It could truly be called a small estate.
Anson hasn't even had time to explore it all, but Lucas has been driving around the property in a golf cart, thoroughly inspecting everything inside and out. Lucas might be more familiar with the place than Anson is.
In his previous life, before his family went bankrupt, Anson came from a well-off family and had seen some of the world. But now, facing a Malibu villa, Anson could say with absolute certainty that he truly hadn't seen the world.
Despite having his own bank account, he never felt a real sense of those numbers. Anson still didn't realize he was already a millionaire, so looking at the mansion in front of him, he felt a bit uncertain—
"Are you sure?"
Lucas, however, remained calm, and even Charles and Nora didn't interfere much. They left everything to Lucas to handle, who closed the deal with a single offer.
Ten million dollars.
Undoubtedly, it's an astronomical figure, and Lucas didn't bat an eye when sealing the deal; but Anson was still a bit surprised that the price was lower than expected.
And so—
Anson's first fixed asset in Los Angeles was officially traded, officially becoming a homeowner and a resident of Malibu.
"...Anson, it's me."
Edgar, sitting in the driver's seat, pressed the doorbell. Looking inside through the carved iron gate, he suddenly felt like he was about to enter Michael Jackson's Neverland Ranch.
Of course, Neverland Ranch spans 2,800 acres, while the villa before him is just the tip of the iceberg; but the overwhelming sense of déjà vu is unmistakable.
His heart couldn't help but stir with excitement.
You can't blame Edgar—after all, he still lives in a modest two-bedroom apartment and hasn't quite felt the sense of being an A-list agent. It's only now that he's slightly tasting the flavor of success.
Creak.
The iron gate automatically opened, and a lush green forest unfolded before his eyes. Compared to this, the privacy walls of Beverly Hills suddenly seemed petty. Visitors outside couldn't see the main house, let alone any figures.
So, is this what Alice felt when she wandered in Wonderland?
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