Paris, France, April 2.
After finishing their honeymoon trip along the Mediterranean coast from west to east, spring had also arrived in northern continental Europe, warm and bright with blossoms everywhere. Still not quite satisfied, Simon and Janet flew to their estate in the western suburbs of Paris to stay for a while.
The moment the black sedan rolled into the estate, spanning more than fifty acres, Madonna couldn't help peering out the window, taking in the surroundings with unconcealed envy.
Madonna herself loved buying property, too. But she knew perfectly well she could never do what Westeros did, casually purchase an estate like this on the outskirts of Paris just to spend a few days here each year.
After several attempts, she'd finally managed to book an appointment to meet Simon today, for the sake of her upcoming "Blond Ambition" concert tour, set to open on April 13.
During the filming of Pulp Fiction, Simon had promised he would make a guest appearance at her concert as a guitarist. But as his power and wealth continued to grow, Madonna wasn't even sure anymore whether that promise would still be honored.
Thankfully, Westeros had no intention of backing out.
Once Madonna received Simon's confirmation, she couldn't wait. She revealed it in an interview, and it immediately drew intense attention from fans. Simon's cameo would be a major hook for the coming tour, so even though preparations were at their most critical stage, Madonna still decided to fly to Europe personally and talk it through with him face to face.
The sedan wound along the estate roads for a few minutes before finally stopping in front of the imposing main villa.
The driver opened the door. Madonna stepped out, and a young woman in a crisp, office-style suit approached and said politely, "Ms. Ciccone, I'm Claire. Please come with me."
Madonna was a little curious about who the woman was. She followed her into the villa, and when she spotted another tall woman inside the living room dressed in a similar style, she more or less understood, and grew even more puzzled.
Janet Johnston… no, now she should be Janet Westeros.
She's got a big heart, Madonna thought. Keeping pretty decorative vases like that around her man.
With that in mind, Madonna followed Claire to a study on the first floor. Inside, Simon, Janet, and a middle-aged man and woman were gathered around a worktable, speaking in low voices over an architectural model.
Madonna gave it a quick scan.
The model looked like a building. Except it was circular, and it didn't seem to have windows. It looked strange.
When she entered, the four ended their discussion. After brief greetings, the middle-aged couple took the initiative to excuse themselves.
"C, please see Mr. Stone and Ms. Anderson out," Simon said. "And have D bring some drinks. Oh, Maggie, what would you like?"
"Me? Coffee is fine."
Simon nodded and gave Claire a few instructions. After she escorted the couple out, Simon gestured for Madonna to sit on the sofa.
Once the couple had left the study, Janet said as well, "You two talk. I'm going upstairs to rest for a bit."
Madonna hurriedly stood, too, watching Janet leave. Only when the room was down to just herself and Simon did she sit again and toss out a topic. "C and D… do you have A and B, too?"
Simon sat across from her, smiling. "Sure. They went into the city. You can meet them when they get back."
Hearing his tone, Madonna felt that Simon still seemed like the same big kid from before, not distant at all despite everything his status had become. She relaxed, half-joking, half-serious. "A, B, C, D. Isn't Janet worried at all you'll end up doing something with them?"
"Janet thinks if the maids were too ugly, and I did end up doing something, that would be even more embarrassing."
Madonna mulled it over. It almost sounded reasonable.
Still, something felt off.
Her gaze drifted to the model on the table, and she switched topics. "So what's that? A building?"
"A doomsday shelter."
"Huh?"
Simon repeated himself. "A doomsday shelter. Somewhere to hide if there's nuclear war, famine, a pandemic, unexpected disasters."
Right.
Madonna decided the man in front of her might exist on a completely different plane of reality.
After finishing his dead-serious explanation, Simon smiled again and added, "You should know, the higher up you go, the more doomsday anxiety you'll find. It's not because they're more afraid of dying than ordinary people. It's because they know the world isn't nearly as safe as ordinary people think. Catastrophe can happen at any time."
Over the past months, after long negotiations with the Tasmanian government, Simon had finally obtained another six thousand square kilometers of land on Tasmania. Counting the properties he'd already purchased, Simon now owned close to ten percent of the entire state.
Back then, he and Janet had joked about building a doomsday shelter on Tasmania. Simon had mostly forgotten about it afterward, but Janet had kept it in her head.
Janet, who deep down kind of looked forward to the end of the world, didn't have doomsday anxiety. She just thought the whole idea was interesting. Simon, in turn, let her hire people and start planning.
During their honeymoon month, the two of them, like kids playing with LEGO, had worked with a professional team to design the doomsday shelter model now sitting on the table.
The shelter was planned for the forests of Tasmania, more than fifty meters underground. It truly would be capable of withstanding nuclear strikes. The internal space and stored supplies would be enough for ten people to live self-sufficiently for five years. The preliminary estimate was a cost of twenty million dollars.
Everything about it was formal and professional, yet in truth it was just a giant toy Simon and Janet had built on a whim.
For example, now, after hearing Simon's explanation, Madonna did her best to suppress the look that said, You rich people are so bored.
At that moment, another young woman entered carrying a tray. She crouched by the coffee table, set a glass of orange juice in front of Simon, poured Madonna a cup of coffee, then quietly withdrew from the study.
A, B, C, D. Allison, Becky, Claire, Deborah. The four young women had been selected after Janet ordered the Boeing 767. Besides having good looks and solid educational backgrounds, Janet had arranged all kinds of training for them, from flight attendant skills to nursing, training that was still ongoing even now.
Since they were so competent and convenient to have around, Simon simply kept them on as full-time personal staff.
Of course, he was generous with the pay.
They only needed to work full-time for Simon for five years. In addition to a high salary of two hundred thousand dollars per year, after those five years they would receive a bonus equal to the total of their salary from the previous five years.
In other words, five years of work would net each of them two million dollars, compensation most ordinary people would never earn in an entire lifetime.
For privacy reasons, Simon's various properties across Europe and North America were no longer staffed according to his old bad taste, hiring young girls at random as cleaners. Under the management of a head housekeeper, he'd built more professional service teams, all bound by strict confidentiality agreements.
After the young woman left, Madonna lifted her coffee and took a sip, then got down to business. "Simon, the materials I sent you about the tour a while back, did you read them?"
"Of course." Simon cradled his orange juice and leaned back into the sofa. "Four months, sixty shows, one every two days on average. You're really going for it."
According to the schedule Madonna had provided for the "Blond Ambition" world tour, from April to August, four months, she would perform sixty concerts across more than twenty cities in Japan, North America, and Europe. It was nonstop.
A pace of one show every two days was a brutal test of any singer's stamina.
Madonna smiled and followed his line. "So… how about you help me out with one more cameo?"
Simon was easygoing about it. "No problem. Let's talk appearance fees."
Madonna instantly shrank her neck.
You've got to be kidding.
Simon Westeros's appearance fee?
That original promise to cameo as a guitarist had only ever been verbal. Before coming, Madonna had actually thought about this issue.
If Simon really demanded an appearance fee, there was a very good chance she simply couldn't afford it. After all, with sixty concerts planned, the average box office per show might not even reach a million dollars. If Westeros showed up for just one performance and decided to be petty about it, handing him the entire box office might not even be enough.
Simon was only teasing.
After saying it, he stood, walked to the desk, picked up a folder, then returned and handed it to Madonna. "There's a song in here. Count this, plus the upcoming cameo, and we're square. After that, you don't have to keep coming after me like you're collecting debt. As for the guitarist cameo, I'm heading back to North America in the next few days, so I definitely can't make Europe. Which specific show I appear at will depend on my schedule. But don't worry. Once we lock in the date, I'll set aside a few days to rehearse."
As Simon spoke, Madonna was already flipping the folder open, impatient.
The original deal was two songs and one cameo as a guitarist at her concert.
Simon had already given her one, Celebration, and there'd always been one song left. She'd mentioned it a few times in the past, but he'd always brushed her off with excuses about needing inspiration.
Now he was finally paying the debt.
The first thing she saw was the title:
Bad Romance.
Just the name alone felt perfectly in her lane.
Then came the lyrics and the sheet music.
Skimming through it, Madonna unconsciously began humming, and quickly realized this song was practically made for stage performance. Even as she hummed, her mind had already started building a stage concept.
But as she read on, she suddenly hesitated.
This could absolutely carry an entire album.
Maybe it should be the lead single of her next record. Maybe the album itself could even be called Bad Romance.
There wasn't even a concept like "earworm hit" yet, but Madonna could feel it. This song would be ridiculously easy to spread. If it was done right, it would be another record with sales in the tens of millions.
Just how much is hidden inside that annoying little man's stomach? she thought, eyes itching with envy.
Finally, she looked up at Simon. "Um… I noticed the lyrics use the word 'Gaga' a lot. What does that mean?"
Simon explained casually, "I forget where I heard it. It was in some song lyrics. It fit the rhythm here."
That was true enough.
Bad Romance had originally been a song by Lady Gaga many years later in another world. Of course her name would appear in the lyrics.
As for where the word "Gaga" came from, Simon vaguely remembered it was from a song from the last few years, but he couldn't be bothered to dig deeper.
Madonna didn't press, either.
With a song in hand and Simon's personal promise secured, the trip to Paris, snatched out of her impossibly busy schedule, was worth it.
They chatted for another half an hour. Madonna stayed for lunch at the estate, then finally took her leave.
After seeing Madonna off, Simon returned to the villa and found Janet curled up on a sofa in the small sitting room off the main living area, holding a magazine, looking languid and lazy.
He went over and sat beside her, then reached out and rubbed her lower belly with a smile. "You don't have to rush so much. When it happens, it'll happen."
For the past few days, Janet's mood had been low. The main reason was that after a month of fucking, they'd wanted to make a little one as soon as possible, but her belly still hadn't shown the slightest sign.
Simon wasn't worried at all.
Janet clearly wasn't the same.
She tossed the magazine aside, scooted closer to him, and said, "Let's go back to North America tomorrow."
"Stay a few more days." Simon slid an arm around her slim waist. "Or… we could find a doctor and get checked?"
Janet shook her head immediately. "No. It feels weird."
They talked in little fragments, snuggling for a while, and Janet eventually perked up again.
She tacitly accepted Simon's decision to stay in Paris a few more days, but the two of them also began returning to work in recent days.
Janet had it easier. She only spent two or three hours each day reading the documents sent over from Cersei Capital's subsidiaries, occasionally calling New York to discuss things.
Simon, on the other hand, had far too much to juggle.
During their honeymoon, casting fully kicked off for the DC film universe's follow-up projects: Batman: The Dark Knight, Superman, The Flash, Wonder Woman, even Cyborg, and more.
Simon's plan was to lock in suitable actors as early as possible and sign them to long-term contracts. That would leave plenty of time to cultivate the main cast, just like with Wonder Woman's preselected lead, Famke Janssen.
Outside the DC film universe, two major collaboration projects currently in preparation, Terminator 2 and The Fugitive, also required some of Simon's attention.
Meanwhile, the team meant to be used for the acquisition of MCA had begun forming. This deal would be handled primarily by Apollo Management under Cersei Capital.
Apollo's head, Leon Black, had focused mainly on leveraged buyouts back when he was at Drexel Burnham, so taking on a corporate acquisition advisory project like this was more than within his wheelhouse.
If they followed the price Simon remembered for Matsushita's acquisition of MCA, then aside from the funds he'd stashed overseas, Daenerys Entertainment would still need to raise at least three billion dollars in cash to ensure the deal could be completed. As a result, James Rebould had already begun quietly making secret contact with certain banks.
Beyond Hollywood matters, Simon also needed to pour enough energy into new tech in the coming stretch.
Ygritte had already completed the early groundwork for World Wide Web technology. Next, the internet plan needed to be officially rolled out. Without Simon personally pushing it forward, getting it off the ground would take at least another two or three years.