Chapter Sixty-Six: The Bestselling Author

The sensational plagiarism scandal not only failed to dampen the sales of this book, but instead reignited its popularity. In an era where information exploded after his time, how could William White care about such trivial matters? Why fear controversy? Indifference is far more terrifying.

Many people were intensely curious—what kind of book could prompt Hollywood moguls to resort to such disgraceful tactics? Well, the blame was laid squarely on the shoulders of those giants, and no matter how they denied it, few would believe their explanations.

Behind each film studio stood powerful families. While William White might be a troublemaker, the instigators were even more so. If an explanation wasn’t forthcoming, they wouldn’t hesitate to let the situation escalate.

Whether acknowledged or not, William White had become a bestselling author. One should never underestimate this status. If he attended a banquet with members of the Hunter family, his rank would certainly precede even the family patriarch—unless, of course, someone from Wall Street was present, in which case, the one with the deepest pockets would naturally take precedence.

Don’t be fooled by the supposed lack of culture in America; professors and writers hold extremely high status, far above any nouveau riche. What truly frustrated William White was that this was no longer a mere issue of conflicting interests—this was an attempt to destroy him.

In America, it isn’t hard to cultivate a positive public image. Attend charity galas, express concern for kittens and puppies, support feminist organizations—complete such a routine and you become the embodiment of high society.

Does this require a lot of money? Not really. At a charity auction, spending tens of thousands of dollars is already considered generous. Don’t try to be ostentatious; donating too much can make others uncomfortable.

Most importantly, all of this is tax-deductible. At major charity auctions, even if he can’t attend personally, William makes sure someone is present. Whether or not the items bought are useful doesn’t matter—it’s the gesture that counts.

At first glance, it might seem that Westerners possess a strong sense of social responsibility, but in reality, it is just that. There’s no need to take such things too seriously; it’s already commendable by general standards. It’s a well-known fact that Westerners value public morals but neglect private ones.

In ordinary families, children are expected to fend for themselves once they turn eighteen. Although the wealthy do something similar, their approach is much gentler—perhaps sending their children to gain experience within family businesses—more as a form of education than necessity.

Ordinary families are different; their children have to work part-time at McDonald’s or coffee shops. Such jobs are easy to find in America, and supporting oneself isn’t too difficult.

College? Unless you have a full scholarship, it’s probably best forgotten—the exorbitant tuition fees are enough to drive anyone mad.

So how did William White become a top student?

The answer lies in unequal educational resources. His mother was of Chinese descent, and everyone knows how strict Chinese parents can be—each one a tiger mother. In American middle schools, knowing the multiplication table is already considered impressive; that’s the norm in public schools. But if you think the American education system is poor, you’re gravely mistaken.

They practice an elite education model. Private schools offer a completely different level of teaching, much like how private schools in China are now far superior. Public schools simply can’t keep up.

It’s the same in America—children from poor families rarely have a chance at top schools. Even if a few geniuses emerge, they are exceptions, not the rule.

A bestselling author commands much respect. William’s frequent public appearances lately have earned him considerable recognition.

No one questions his literary talents anymore. For someone who can point out the flaws in Shakespeare, his literary foundation speaks for itself.

“Sigh, this is so damn exhausting.” William White returned to his villa, unable to conceal his weariness.

“Young master, shall I call for the masseur?” Uncle Ford felt a pang of sympathy for his young master—lately, he had been working too hard: attending classes in the morning, filming in the afternoon, and then participating in various banquets.

“No need, Uncle Ford. I’m just mentally tired. Those hypocritical faces are truly tiresome. If this continues, I might end up with a permanent blank expression.”

“Heh, young master, you’ve handled yourself exceptionally well. This phase should almost be over. I doubt there’ll be any more troublemakers.”

“Hmm, let’s see how things unfold. The important events still require my attendance.”

William White was zealously building his reputation. Though results wouldn’t come overnight, persistence would certainly elevate his prestige over time.

In truth, he was underestimating himself. He was already a public figure with a very positive image—smearing him now would be no easy feat.

The most effortless solution would be to side with the Texas consortium. If he made some concessions, the other groups would not dare go too far.

America’s top ten consortia are no joke. Their true power isn’t just about wealth—it’s their political capital that counts.

Of course, benefits come with costs. Wealth is not the biggest issue. Given his family’s standing, he’d be nothing more than a small player within any consortium, subject to many restrictions and demands.

Still, the era of the consortium’s dominance wouldn’t last forever. Such alliances would eventually be abandoned. The public clearly disliked them, and if they didn’t learn to restrain themselves, their downfall would be ugly.

William White’s situation had already attracted the attention of many powerful factions. This young man’s meteoric rise was startling. If he continued at this pace, his fortune would soon reach the billion-dollar mark.

While that was still small compared to any consortium, among wealthy families, billion-dollar assets were rare.

Of course, the reclusive families didn’t count—no one knew what kind of resources they possessed. Any family that had endured for centuries was certainly formidable.

Hollywood and the IT industry had swiftly entered the sights of these people. They had never paid much attention to these sectors before—perhaps investing a little in semiconductors, at most.

Hollywood, though, was another story. When was the last time anyone heard of it being truly profitable?

Apart from Star Wars and Superman, perhaps, but even those didn’t earn as much as this troublemaker.

Those were big-budget productions with profits split among many, so little ended up in the owner’s pocket.

But now, what were they seeing?

One single film could rake in over a hundred million dollars. How could anyone else hope to compete?

Profits in the hundreds of millions—who wouldn’t drool at the thought? Suppression was no longer possible; Hollywood’s leading studios were already a laughingstock, frequently ridiculed by the media.

Investment? What’s the point of investing in someone’s few-million-dollar movie?

Even if it went public in the future, the shares available to outsiders would be extremely limited.

What about his oil company? Is there an opportunity to gain some leverage there?

His farm was dismissed outright—farms were worthless now, with so many bankrupt that even bank auctions drew no interest.