Rebecca froze for a second, her gaze zeroing in on the group of four girls lingering near the entrance of the restaurant. The question, "You know them?" came from the man beside her, his voice lined with curiosity. He was well-dressed, obviously powerful, and judging by the way the others treated him, likely someone very important. One glance at the girls told her everything—wide, terrified eyes, nervous shifting, one of them clutching another's arm like her life depended on it. Rebecca instantly understood.
Something wasn't right.
The man, whom she now recognized from the brief introductions as Mr. Zhao—Rachel's father and a major player in this meeting—looked at her expectantly. She knew she had to tread carefully. Any unnecessary drama here could jeopardize the entire negotiation. And so, putting on the calmest, warmest smile she could muster, Rebecca nodded.
"Yes," she said, her voice light and unbothered.
All four girls visibly flinched, their eyes bulging in alarm.
"Oh?" CZ raised a brow.
Before he could probe further, Rebecca added quickly, "They were in the concert yesterday."
CZ let out a chuckle, nodding along. "Yes, yes. Like I said earlier, they're massive fans of Ethan. They even went with a family friend—one of their aunts, I think. They've been raving about it ever since."
His voice was light, cheerful. He was beaming, in fact. There was a rare youthfulness about him today, despite the tailored suit and the mountain of responsibilities on his shoulders. A strange warmth had settled into him. Maybe it was the giddy excitement of his daughter and her friends. Or maybe, just maybe, it was being in the presence of Ethan Jones.
He'd laughed when he realized it—despite all his wealth, influence, and Silicon Valley prestige, there was a kind of thrill in being around a cultural icon. It was like the tables had turned. Now he understood why so many billionaires surrounded themselves with celebrities. He'd never admit that, of course. Not even to himself. As far as he was concerned, his excitement came purely from the lucrative partnership that was about to unfold.
And what a partnership it was going to be.
A few minutes passed as Ethan chatted lightly with the girls, signing autographs, taking pictures, answering giddy questions. They looked like they were on cloud nine, all traces of their earlier anxiety seemingly forgotten.
Finally, CZ raised a brow and clapped his hands lightly. "Okay girls, you've gotten your signatures. Now it's time for me to get mine."
The girls groaned.
"But Dad—!"
"Nope, no more stalling. Business time. Go wait in the car."
More groans. A few pouty expressions. Rachel clung to Ethan's hand dramatically, and one of the others looked like she was about to cry from joy and disappointment. But eventually, with much protest, they shuffled out, waving wildly at Ethan.
"It was really nice meeting you girls," Ethan said, flashing his million-dollar smile as they left. They giggled and waved until the door closed behind them.
The second it clicked shut, Ethan let out a quiet, amused, "Finally."
CZ laughed.
"So, Mr. Jones," he said, walking forward with an extended hand, "It's great to meet you again."
Ethan shook it firmly. "Pleasure's mine."
If Rebecca had been the star of yesterday's whirlwind conversation, today it was all Bill. The atmosphere shifted instantly. The chatter died down. The room transformed into a boardroom without walls.
Plans were discussed in detail. Contracts were brought out. Roles, expectations, and deliverables were clearly laid out. CZ was meticulous. Ethan, though young, held his own with surprising maturity. Rebecca contributed occasionally, mostly to clarify creative vision and brand alignment.
They talked sponsorships, media rights, cross-promotion strategies, and access to the U.S. market. Ethan's reach among Gen Z was unrivaled, and CZ knew that. This wasn't just a celebrity tie-in—it was a calculated move to penetrate an entirely new demographic.
Forty minutes passed in what felt like ten.
Finally, CZ stood up and extended his hand again. "A very happy cooperation, Mr. Jones."
Ethan stood too, smiling. "Looking forward to it."
They shook hands again—firmly this time, the kind of handshake that seals empires.
Bill stood. "I'll walk you out."
Ethan added quickly, "Actually, I'd like to say goodbye to the girls. Just a quick moment."
They stepped out of the restaurant. The SUVs were still parked at the curb. Rachel and her friends spotted them immediately, faces lighting up once again.
"Ethan!" they chorused, hurrying up.
Ethan greeted them warmly, waving and laughing as they surrounded him.
Meanwhile, Bill and CZ were locked in another quiet conversation.
"From the next two shows, everything should be in place," Bill was saying.
"Perfect. That gives us enough time to prep our internal teams. We'll make the announcement after the third show."
They nodded at each other in agreement.
"Thank you again for everything," CZ said.
Bill smiled. "We're thrilled to be working with you."
Behind them, Ethan was giving one last high-five to the girls before stepping back. "Bye, girls. Don't cause too much trouble, alright?"
"We won't!" they yelled, practically floating.
With that, the girls returned to the SUV. The engines purred to life. Rebecca waved from the door as the convoy began to roll out.
Ethan exhaled slowly. It was done
Ethan Jones had thought this day would be simple. He imagined the deal, the handshake, the brief celebration, and then back to work, grinding like always. But standing there now, watching Bill's exuberant grin and hearing the echo of those six words — sixty million dollars — Ethan knew better. This wasn't simple at all.
Not six, not sixteen, but sixty million dollars.
The number echoed in his mind like a loud beat in a quiet room, impossible to ignore. He could almost feel the weight of it settling in, not just in his bank account, but inside his chest — a mix of disbelief, excitement, and the heavy pressure of what it meant for his future.
Bill, unable to contain his happiness, suddenly broke the silence with a loud, joyous laugh. "Sixty million, Ethan! This calls for a celebration!"
He was already pulling out his phone, grinning wide. "Let's hit the store, man. We're ordering whatever we want. Drinks, snacks, everything!"
Ethan watched Bill's infectious energy spread through the room like wildfire. Rebecca, too, smiled brightly, the kind of smile that made the entire room feel lighter, as if the weight of millions had suddenly become a shared joy rather than a burden.
Bill leaned in, teasing with a mischievous grin, "So, Ethan, where is this girl I've heard has captured your heart? You can't be walking around all this rich and single, huh?"
Ethan laughed, shaking his head, eyes sparkling. "You guys go ahead without me. I'm coming. Just… give me a little time."
"Sure, sure!" Bill chuckled, waving him off with a playful, "Don't take too long, superstar!"
As the others left, their laughter trailing behind them, Ethan stayed behind. He leaned against the railing just outside the restaurant, in a quiet, secluded corner where the noise of the world felt distant. The evening was calm, almost serene. No fans, no flashing cameras — just the cool Iowa air brushing past him and the soft hum of the city beyond.
He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the cool breeze mingle with the whirlwind inside his head.
Sixty million dollars.
As a newbie star, Ethan had dreamt of big breaks, but nothing this monumental. Even with the glittering fame and soaring streams, he never imagined this kind of deal would come so quickly.
He knew, of course, he wouldn't be taking home the full sixty million. Taxes, fees, management cuts — the reality of the business side always followed the glamor. But that wasn't what made his heart race.
It was the meaning behind it all.
Somebody — a giant, a titan in the crypto world — believed he was worth that much. Believed his short-term deal could be valued at sixty million dollars.
For a moment, the weight of it felt surreal, like standing at the edge of a vast ocean with no idea how deep it went.
He ran his hand along the cold metal railing and looked out into the dimming horizon. There was so much to prove, so much still to achieve. But tonight… tonight was different. Tonight, he let himself feel the victory, no matter how fleeting.
Then, his thoughts drifted deeper, quietly weaving through his ambitions and fears, the long nights, the sacrifices, the hopes for the future. He thought about where he had come from, the lonely studio sessions, the doubts, the people who had believed in him and those who hadn't.
And as he stood there, caught in his reverie, his phone buzzed sharply in his pocket.
He pulled it out, the cracked screen catching the last rays of sunlight.
Of all things, he thought, my phone's broken but my deal's intact.
He chuckled softly, tapping the screen to answer. "Hey, Dad."
"Ethan! How are you, son?" came the warm voice, full of genuine care and pride.
"I'm good, Dad. Really good."
"How's Iowa? And the tour? Heard it's been busy."
"Yeah, it's going well. The crowds have been amazing. Just trying to keep up."
"Don't forget to enjoy it too," his father said kindly. "This is your moment, Ethan. You've earned it."
Ethan smiled, his chest tightening with affection. "I'm trying, Dad."
"Mom says hi. And she's been keeping an eye on those rumor sites again."
Ethan laughed, the sound light and easy. "Oh no, what now?"
"She says you're hiding a girl away somewhere."
Ethan shook his head, grinning wide. "Not true! But I'll introduce her to you all soon enough."
His father laughed heartily, the kind of laugh that made Ethan feel the distance between them shrink.
They talked for a while longer — stories, advice, jokes, the small moments that made a family.
Before hanging up, Ethan said quietly, "Dad… about that world trip you and Mom have always talked about…"
There was a pause on the other end.