America's No. 1 financial conglomerate

Chapter 387 The So-Called Upper Class

As Ernst stepped out of Hugh Hefner's room, his gaze unconsciously drifted toward the stairwell in the distance.

Hugh Hefner's butler remained standing there like a statue, upright and serious, as if highly vigilant about everything around him.

Ernst's gaze lingered on the butler for a few seconds before returning to the video camera he was clutching tightly in his hand.

The video recorder's casing felt slightly cool to the touch, as if it still retained the warmth from when it was used.

Turning his head to look at the now-closed door again, Ernst's lips curled into a slight smile. "I didn't expect you to come over and wash your feet."

This statement contained surprise, sarcasm, and a subtle hint of mockery.

When he returned to the bar, the items had already been handed to Mueller, and he walked slowly back to Hugh Hefner's side with an undisguised smile.

He didn't say a word, but just stared straight at Hugh Hefner.

Feeling inexplicably uneasy under Ernst's gaze, the other person broke the silence first, asking, "Are you done talking?"

However, Ernst maintained his previous posture, showing no intention of answering.

Hugh Hefner's unease grew stronger, and he pressed again, "What are you going to do?"

Ernst remained silent, his probing gaze undiminished.

"What's wrong with you?"

"6

""

Hugh Hefner got a little uneasy. He unconsciously shifted his body, even subconsciously moving his buttocks half a hip to the side, clearly trying to keep a certain distance from Ernst in order to alleviate his discomfort and tension.

Just as Hugh Hefner was about to stand up, Ernst finally spoke, "So this is what you mean by 'favor'—owing someone a debt of gratitude."

Upon hearing this, Hugh Hefner's expression instantly became slightly unnatural, an instinctive reaction to having his sensitive spot hit, and his eyes darted away slightly.

But he quickly regained his composure, his face returning to its usual calm, and feigned confusion as he said, "What do you mean? I don't understand."

He tried to use this method to cover up his inner panic and to deflect Ernst's words.

Ernst picked up the wine glass on the table, swirled it gently, then brought it to his lips and took a small sip.

After a moment, he slowly spoke, "In 1985, she would have been forty years old, wouldn't she? According to your taste, that shouldn't be the case?"

He felt that the relationship between the old man and the old hag was definitely not just a simple one, and when he asked earlier, he found out that was indeed the case.

When Hugh Hefner heard Ernst accurately state the year 1985, his face instantly turned ugly. He lowered his voice and gritted his teeth, muttering, "Bitch, she actually told everyone this."

Ernst couldn't help but laugh out loud when he heard Hugh Hefner's curses; his laughter was full of mockery.

For that old hag, who was willing to sell even her own soul, what secrets could she possibly keep from outsiders?

The so-called bottom line and principles simply do not exist for her.

After laughing, Ernst said with intense curiosity, "I just want to know why."

Hugh Hefner looked at Ernst with a puzzled expression and asked, "Didn't she tell you?"

Now that the other party has told him all this, given Ernst's curiosity, there's no reason he wouldn't ask for more details.

Since the other party has already given the time, what else is there to hide?

"I did tell you, but I didn't listen carefully," Ernst replied casually, his tone slightly nonchalant.

Hugh Hefner's eyes immediately revealed a knowing, ambiguous look, as if he had already guessed why Ernst hadn't been listening carefully.

Ernst said irritably, "I'm not like you, still able to do this at fifty."

Hugh Hefner didn't seem to care about Ernst's sarcasm. He just scoffed and said, "The thrill of this kind of identity isn't about being young or not."

"If Hilary were kneeling in front of you right now, wanting a lollipop, and her husband were in a meeting in the next room, could you not be tempted?" Hugh Hefner tried to use this impactful hypothetical scenario to explain to Ernst the thrill of that particular situation.

Upon hearing Hugh Hefner's bold hypothesis, Ernst couldn't help but conjure up that image in his mind.

He had to admit that, putting aside whether he would actually do it, the scene itself was enough to make any man's heart race.

"Wait a minute." He quickly realized, "You're changing the subject. We're talking about your own business now."

Hugh Hefner looked slightly embarrassed when Ernst saw through his little trick, but he quickly regained his composure. "What could it be? It was just a normal party. Everyone drank too much, Paul was completely drunk, and the atmosphere was right, you know what I mean."

He tried to use such vague words to describe that past experience as an ordinary accident caused by alcohol and the atmosphere.

Ernst said he didn't understand, but his expression became even more interested, and he pressed on, "So Paul was there?"

"Nonsense," Hugh Hefner said irritably, a hint of impatience in his voice. "At my age, and after drinking so much, how could I possibly get up without his support?"

There was not a trace of shame in his words; on the contrary, Ernst sensed an attitude of self-righteousness.

This made him secretly sigh: the so-called high society really lives up to the saying, "The upper class is actually fucking vulgar."

"Then this doesn't count as a favor, does it?" Ernst was still confused. "It's a matter of mutual consent, there's no right or wrong, let alone anyone owing anyone a favor."

Hugh Hefner's expression instantly turned angry, and he gritted his teeth and said, "That fucking weirdo Ridgebus."

"If he hadn't found out about it later and wanted to try it himself, would he have been filmed?"

Upon hearing about the recording, Ernst instantly perked up, jumped up from his seat, and headed out without a word.

"Where are you going?" Hugh Hefner asked as Ernst suddenly got up to leave.

Where are you going?

I wonder if that old hag has left yet. Of course, she's going to borrow the videotape.

"It's too late, I'm going to rest in Giselle's room."

Without giving Hugh Hefner any chance to stop or ask questions, he strode out and disappeared into the bar's entrance in a flash.

In the early morning, sunlight gently streamed into the room through the gaps in the curtains.

Gisele Bündchen slowly opened her eyes in her sleep, her face still carrying a hint of drowsy sleepiness, her mind still filled with the dream that had felt so real.

The scene in her dream was so vivid, as if it had just happened, with every detail still clear in her mind, making her heart beat faster.

It wasn't until she felt something strange in her body that she fully realized what was happening.

If it wasn't a dream, his first reaction was to resist.

"it's me."

Gisele Bündchen recognized the voice all too well; the familiar tone and unique timbre instantly dispelled her panic and unease.

As if by instinct, the body instantly relaxed, and the previously tense muscles softened, responding subconsciously.

As Ernst enjoyed this intimate morning in Gisele Bündchen's room, the bustling city of Los Angeles was gradually awakening.

People began to hurry along the streets, and the office workers, like industrious ants, started their busy and fulfilling new day of work.

In a luxurious suburban villa, Jerry Brown was leisurely sitting at the dining table, enjoying a sumptuous breakfast.

A sudden, urgent phone call shattered the tranquility and peace.

Jerry Brown put down his knife and fork, picked up the phone on the table, and said, "This is Jerry Brown."

After a moment, he slowly said, "Okay, I understand."

After hanging up the phone, Jerry Brown had completely lost his appetite for breakfast; the fried eggs and bread on his plate no longer held any appeal for him.

He sat in the chair, his arms crossed over his chest, lost in deep thought, his brow furrowed, his eyes filled with doubt and consideration.

Just now, the person on the phone told him that the old hag had actually become a member of the MGM Cultural Promotion Committee.

This so-called MGM Culture Promotion Committee member position is actually a sinecure, much less demanding than his senior advisor position at Google.

Their main job is simply to talk about the cultural development of Hollywood in their spare time when participating in variety shows or on official visits, and then recommend some movies that they think they really like and that the audience should watch.

And this movie was undoubtedly produced by MGM.

But the timing, and the fact that it's MGM, makes it all very complicated.

The entire West Coast gang knew that Ernst was very cold towards that old hag, even to the point of being disgusted.

Recently, their circle has been actively pushing to replace the old hag, in order to show Ernst their sincerity and hope to win him over to their West Coast gang circle to enhance their strength and influence.

But now it's clear that the old hag managed to get Ernst on her own without any help from the West Coast gang; otherwise, she would never have been able to get a position as a member of the MGM Cultural Promotion Committee.

Although Jerry Brown didn't know exactly how the old hag had managed to get Ernst, it was undeniable that this woman's ability to maintain her position under such unfavorable circumstances fully demonstrated her extraordinary skills and methods.

From the perspective of personal and family interests, the fact that the old hag managed to retain her position is undoubtedly a loss for the Brown family.

Because the person they had originally decided to nominate was a member of the Fisher family, who was about to marry his niece, but he was not angry because of Ernst's change of heart.

On the contrary, he saw something deeper in this matter.

Jerry Brown's eyes flickered, his mind racing. "It seems it's time to meet with him, test his attitude, and see what his plans are."

At the same time, the news spread like wildfire throughout the West Coast gang circle, and almost all the core members received the news immediately.

Upon learning the news, William Newson immediately picked up the phone and called the Getty family's representative.

After the call connected, William Newson got straight to the point, saying, "I think we can put the replacement plan on hold for now. Compared to the Fisher family, it's obviously more reassuring and reliable to have the power in the hands of our own people."

The emotional bond between these three families is evident here, and it's certainly much closer than that between the Fisher family and the Fisher family.

"That's what I was thinking too," Getty's voice came. "How about we host a family party at my estate tonight, and invite the Pelosi family over so we can all discuss it together?"

While those people were calculating the gains and losses, Paul was humming a little tune excitedly.

"Nancy, I really can't believe you actually did it." Paul was as happy as a child.

Paul has been feeling down lately because the high society he admires may soon be slipping away from him.

Paul knew very well why all of this was happening: it was because of the tycoon's attitude that the seemingly high-ranking senator was about to be abandoned.

Yesterday, my wife said she contacted Ernst through an intermediary and would try to persuade him.

Paul hadn't held out any hope, but to his surprise, his wife actually did it.

The old hag didn't even glance at her useless husband, and continued eating her breakfast.

"How did you do that?" Paul asked curiously.

"I promised them that as long as I could come to power, I would continue to push for the relaxation of technology regulations."

This was a reason the old witch had already come up with; there was no more appropriate reason.