The doctors at the Landrini–Jobs Medical Center had already been prepared. The moment Commissioner Smith arrived, they immediately began the operation.
A subdermal listening device, a subdermal poison capsule, and other items were implanted into Commissioner Smith's body. His arms were modified as well, and a mysterious device was implanted under his scalp.
All of this came from the research labs of Apple, as well as companies like Watermelon and Banana, and it was all used on Commissioner Smith.
When Commissioner Smith woke up, he discovered that he was lying in a hospital room, and standing before him—with the same familiar smile was Rick, whom he had just seen not long ago.
Next to Rick was a long-legged blonde beauty, and Commissioner Smith recognized her instantly.
"Hi, Ivanka… why are you here?"
Ivanka ignored Commissioner Smith and instead spoke to Rick. "Are you certain he'll obey us?"
"Of course," Rick said confidently. "He has no choice. Everything he has done has already been recorded."
"But that doesn't mean anything to him. He's done this kind of thing plenty of times."
"Yes, but making his organization lose trust in him—that's enough. And we detected biological evidence from those two twin girls. I believe that's sufficient for the prosecutor to indict him."
Ivanka thought for a moment, then nodded.
For someone used to throwing his weight around and protected by an organization, the moment that organization is stripped of its trust in him, he becomes no different from a stray dog on the roadside—anyone can kick him twice.
"Ivanka… what—what do you want?" Commissioner Smith asked in terror as he listened to their conversation.
Fear was already rising within him. He began to plead, "No, no, spare me! Whatever you want, I'll give it. I have money, I have a lot of stocks—I can give all of it."
Only then did Rick turn to him and say, "Mr. Smith, we want you to be a 007."
"What do you mean?"
"It means you'll be our spy. You will hand over all the lists you know of, and you will record certain evidence and submit it to us."
Commissioner Smith instantly understood what that meant. They wanted him to provide evidence of certain illicit dealings. But what use would that be? Those were all powerful figures who controlled every aspect of society.
Even if exposed, those big shots would barely be affected. But for Commissioner Smith, the ending was guaranteed—death.
So of course he refused. "Impossible. You're sending me to my death…"
"Correct," Rick nodded. "I am sending you to your death. Whether you agree or not, you're going to die anyway. Since that's the case, why not agree and do something good for society? At least you can atone for your sins."
Ivanka also spoke. "My boss said that if you're willing to help, once everything is done, he will send you across the border to live there.
"You people keep saying he favors that side, right? Here's the truth—my boss has deep connections over there. Keeping you alive won't be a problem.
"There's an old saying on that side: A bad life is better than a good death. Think about it."
"Your boss is…?" Commissioner Smith immediately reacted. "You work for Gilbert. He's your boss."
"Congratulations, you're correct. Unfortunately, there's no prize." Ivanka even had the mood to tease him. "So? Want to reconsider?"
"Ivanka, please… I really can't… don't make me do this…" Commissioner Smith looked like he was about to cry, utterly pitiful.
"We've met before. I even wrote you a love letter, remember? I've spoken quite well with your father. I know his company is undergoing a transformation—I can help him."
Ivanka smiled lightly. "Sorry, but my father doesn't need your help. You should worry about yourself."
Rick didn't waste time. "Alright then. Since you refuse, there's no point in continuing. Miss Ivanka, I suggest we release all our evidence. That way, Mr. Smith loses all value as someone to be trusted."
"Alright, we'll do it your way." Ivanka agreed. The two of them started walking out together.
Counting silently—one, two, three—Commissioner Smith shouted exactly as expected.
"Ivanka! Wait!"
"What? You've agreed?" Ivanka turned around.
"I want you to guarantee something for me."
"A guarantee? That's hard to promise… but we can do it, as long as you help us."
A heavy silence spread. After hesitating, Commissioner Smith finally gave in.
"I'll do it. But you must guarantee my safety."
Ivanka and Rick exchanged a smile. "No problem."
Far away in Los Angeles, Gilbert received Ivanka's phone call.
"Well done. Be careful—safety is the most important thing. Everything else can wait."
Ivanka felt a warmth in her heart. "Don't worry about me. But I don't quite understand. Smith wasn't wrong—these small scandals mean nothing to big Wall Street figures, not to mention their tight relationship with the media groups."
Gilbert laughed. "Ivanka, you're just like them—you're still living in the traditional age. What era is this now? It's the Internet era, and next we'll enter the mobile media era.
This is an era that can reshape discourse power. Soon, you and everyone else—will realize that traditional media will eventually be replaced by the internet."
In a place that runs on votes, scandals might not ruin powerful figures, but they can still destroy the public reputation of a visible individual.
One way or another, the public leans conservative. They would never support someone who loves or harms young girls.
Money buys power, and power in turn protects money. But the day that logic stops working, cracks will appear. This is a power-seizing process.
However, for Gilbert, while stripping opponents of power, he must also ensure someone on his side can fill the vacuum, otherwise everything he worked hard for would benefit others.
These past few years, Gilbert had funded many things, but it still wasn't enough. He needed something on a much larger scale.
Since the Blue Party chose to make a move this time, it was destined that he and the Blue Party could never walk together. So the only option was supporting the Red Party. The issue now was that the current Red Party leader had burned through nearly all the prestige left behind, and was no longer the Red Party Gilbert wanted.
So many major events had happened, yet none ended ideally. In two years, they surely wouldn't win. If scandals exploded, they might bridge that gap.
And after all, a force that has been operating for decades or centuries doesn't collapse easily. This will be a long-term struggle. Gilbert didn't mind—if they wouldn't let him make movies and earn money peacefully, he'd just stir chaos.
When all the chaos ended, he'd simply run to the other shore, where development was booming too. He could drop by the national film school, give guidance to Chinese cinema, and even earn the title of "old friend." Quite delightful.
Of course, that was only one possible scenario.
Things always progress in spirals. At Gilbert's level, he could already influence many people and many things. In the center of the vortex, sometimes he too had no choice.
He couldn't just sit there like a sheep waiting to be slaughtered. Even if a turkey can't beat the farmer, it should at least struggle—it can't just become Christmas dinner, right?
The atmosphere suddenly grew tense, and the sensitive ones could smell something unusual in the air.
The direction of history remained undecided.
...
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