From the look in her eyes, it was clear that Jennifer was quite interested in the songs on Mavi's MP3 player. After all, as someone who dreamed of becoming a music producer, Jennifer had a keen sensitivity to melody and rhythm.
The song "You Raise Me Up" playing on Mavi's device was one she had never heard before, and more importantly, it was incredibly beautiful.
Though Jennifer took notice of Mavi's music, she kept her curiosity to herself out of pride and self-respect as a wealthy heiress. She did not ask him where the song came from.
Jennifer had no interest in extravagant jewelry or designer handbags. Her only love was music—she enjoyed creating it and immersing herself in its world.
A wealthy heiress courageously pursuing her dreams could be summed up in one sentence: If she failed to achieve her dreams, she would simply go back to inheriting billions.
When the elevator reached the hotel's top floor, Jennifer stepped out first, her high heels clicking against the polished floor. A faint, elegant fragrance lingered in the air, and her graceful silhouette left room for imagination.
Mavi followed her out of the elevator and walked along the red carpet toward the entrance of the banquet hall.
At that moment, Jennifer, who was ahead of him, was elegantly signing the guestbook with a gold pen. Her handwriting was as beautiful as her appearance—graceful and refined.
As Mavi approached and prepared to sign in, Jennifer, who had just finished writing her name, unexpectedly handed him the pen with a friendly smile.
"Here you go," she said.
"Thank you," Mavi replied, reaching out to take the pen. The gold body of the pen was still warm from Jennifer's touch.
"You're welcome." Jennifer's red lips curved into a charming smile. Then, without hesitation, she turned and walked straight into the banquet hall.
Mavi held the golden pen in his hand, lost in thought for a brief moment. Then, he casually signed his name and followed a hostess into the hall.
The banquet hall on the top floor of the Marriott Hotel was lavishly decorated. The grand crystal chandeliers illuminated the entire room in a dazzling golden glow.
Well-dressed men and women filled the space, their confident and sophisticated smiles adding to the atmosphere of elegance. Hotel staff, holding trays of wine and desserts, moved gracefully among the guests. At the slightest gesture, they would serve with utmost respect.
"Mister Mavi, good evening! You finally made it. I hope you didn't run into any traffic?"
As soon as Mavi stepped into the hall, Jeff Bezos, the CEO of Amazon, approached him in a sharp black suit, his face beaming with enthusiasm.
"Good evening, Mister Jeff." Mavi responded with his signature smile. His arrival drew the attention of many prominent guests, their curious gazes sizing him up.
Most of the guests knew that this party was specially organized by Amazon to welcome Mavi. It was also a subtle way of sending a message to investors: despite the dot-com bubble crisis, Amazon would weather the storm successfully.
Seeing that the guest of honor had finally arrived, Jeff Bezos eagerly led Mavi toward the stage, preparing to introduce him to everyone.
"Attention, ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, please?" Jeff Bezos took the microphone and walked to the front of the stage. With practiced ease, he began his speech.
As a seasoned public figure, he showed no stage fright whatsoever. His words were engaging, setting a lively tone for the evening. Throughout his speech, he repeatedly praised Mavi and expressed his gratitude for Mavi's timely intervention in saving the company. The crowd, consisting of influential figures, grew increasingly interested in him.
"Alright, I've talked long enough. I'm sure you're all getting a little tired of my introduction," Bezos joked. "Now, allow me to introduce the newest shareholder of Amazon—Mister Mavi! Let's give him a warm round of applause!"
As soon as Bezos finished speaking, the banquet hall erupted in applause. Influential guests and Amazon executives alike raised their hands, clapping enthusiastically.
Clap, clap, clap…
The sound of applause filled the room. For someone like Mavi, who had never given a public speech before, it was a nerve-wracking moment—especially with so many prominent figures from Washington in the audience.
As he was led onto the stage by a hotel staff member, microphone in hand, Mavi saw hundreds of eyes fixed on him. Men and women alike held their breath, waiting for his speech.
Being stared at by so many people was no small pressure.
However, having lived two lifetimes, Mavi didn't let his nerves get the better of him. Holding the microphone, he flashed a confident smile and addressed the crowd.
"Thank you for your kind words, Mister Jeff. Honestly, I just did what any investor would do…"
Making money through investments was already an exhilarating feeling. Now, standing on stage, casually showing off in front of a high-profile audience—it was a double thrill.
Yet, to those watching, his subtle confidence came across as humility and composure, making him even more likable.
As soon as he finished speaking, the audience erupted into another round of applause. It was their way of acknowledging and respecting him.
Mavi looked at the applauding and smiling American elites below the stage and suddenly felt that this version of himself was truly remarkable.
But he didn't let it get to his head. He understood that all of this—fame, admiration, and applause—was fleeting.
In the world of the wealthy, success brought flowers and applause. But the moment one failed, those who had once smiled and called you a friend could turn their backs in an instant.
As Mavi basked in the applause and returned to his seat, a blonde woman in a black velvet evening gown approached him with a smile.
"Mister Mavi, your speech was wonderful," she said. "If I may be so bold… would you grant me the honor of a dance later?"
The woman, adorned in expensive jewelry and wearing bold smoky-eye makeup, was clearly intrigued by Mavi. A charming, successful bachelor like him was the kind of man many women admired.
"A dance, huh…"
Mavi hesitated. Truthfully, he wanted to decline—he was terrible at ballroom dancing. But in social settings like this, only women could turn down a dance invitation. If a man refused, it would be seen as impolite or disrespectful.
Just as he was struggling to decide whether to accept or refuse, a graceful figure in white appeared beside him.
With elegance, she turned to the woman and spoke on his behalf.
"Apologies," she said with a soft smile. "He's my dance partner."