Chapter 531: This Is My Compatriot, So I Must Charge Extra

But what made him even happier was that he’d finally scored a meeting with Stan Kroenke.

Stan Kroenke wasn’t an easy man to meet. It wasn’t because he was particularly busy, but because he was so damn rich.

His net worth exceeded 10 billion USD, and he was the largest private landowner in the United States of America, owning more ranch land than the entire state of Rhode Island.

Arsenal of the Premier League, the Los Angeles Rams, the Denver Nuggets, the Colorado Avalanche, the Colorado Rapids… He owned enough professional sports teams to form his own league.

Howard West had always taken pride in playing golf with him, and everyone in Hollywood knew it.

“Stan,” Howard West said as they walked, “I’ve already put the word out about that kid from the Celestial Dynasty.”

Stan Kroenke took a golf club from the caddie, glanced at the ball’s position, and said nothing.

“Fifty million USD. I pulled my funding outright,” West continued, gesturing with both hands. “And I made a round of calls to Paramount, Universal, and Warner. Those producers and investment firms still have to show me some respect.”

He looked at the silent Kroenke and continued, “I figure if they insist on using Li Wei for this project, they’ll never be able to raise enough money.”

“Li Wei can invest himself,” Kroenke said. “He has far more cash on hand than you do.”

He squatted down, eyeing the green as he spoke, his tone suggesting he neither approved nor disapproved of Howard West’s actions.

He stood and took his swing.

“Great shot, beautifully played…” Howard West hurriedly complimented. “It doesn’t matter if he has his own money. In a place like Hollywood, money alone won’t get you anywhere.”

Kroenke handed the club back to the caddie and grunted a faint “hm.”

West took a few steps to follow behind him.

“By the way, Stan, there’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about,” he said, changing the subject. “Don’t you have a plot of commercial land over in Inglewood, next to SoFi Stadium? I looked into it. It’s about eighteen acres, and there are no development plans for it yet.”

This was his true purpose for today’s golf game with Kroenke, the real reason he was sucking up to him.

After making his fortune early in his career, Kroenke had amassed a large amount of commercial land around SoFi Stadium.

With the urban expansion of Los Angeles and the commercial development of the SoFi area, the value of these properties was growing by more than 15% annually.

West had his eye on a particular plot near a metro station. If he could acquire it and build a mixed-use commercial complex, the return on investment over the next ten years could exceed 300%.

Just as Howard was about to say more, he suddenly saw Kroenke’s assistant, a young man in his early thirties, jogging over from the side of the fairway with a cell phone in his hand.

“Mr. Kroenke,” the assistant said as he drew near, “you should see this.”

Kroenke took the phone, glanced at it for a few seconds, then handed it back to his assistant, his expression unchanged.

“Howard,” he said, looking up at West, “let’s call it a day. I just remembered something I need to take care of.”

Howard West was stunned.

They’d only played seven holes. A full round was eighteen, so they weren’t even halfway through.

“Now?” he said. “Stan, we haven’t finished our discussion.” ‘So does he agree with my plan or not?’

“David, bring my car around to the west gate.” Stan Kroenke had already taken off his glove and handed it to the caddie.

“We’ll play again some other time. Sorry,” he said without a hint of apology, then walked toward the clubhouse without a backward glance.

West stood in the middle of the fairway as a light breeze swept past, sending his Panama hat into the air.

He watched as Stan Kroenke’s figure grew smaller and smaller in the distance.

“Mr. West.” Just then, his own assistant came running over, holding out a phone. “You… you might want to take a look at this.”

West took the phone. On the screen was a news alert from *Vanity Fair*, posted just a minute ago:

*Li Wei’s ‘Vision Holdings’ Announces $140 Million USD Investment in His Starring Film, Becoming Largest Shareholder; Netflix Adds $10 Million, Pushing Total Budget to $250 Million USD*

Howard West took one look, and the color visibly drained from his face.

“Find out!” he roared, tossing the phone back to his assistant. “I want to see who’s got the balls to throw that much money at Li Wei!”

“Whoever it is,” he muttered to himself, “they’ll pay the price for daring to challenge me to my face…”

…

“What?!” Howard West clutched the phone, feeling as if his temples were about to explode. “The Andrew W. Mellon Foundation?!”

He looked like a freshly castrated pig.

The Mellon Family.

The Mellon Family of Pittsburgh, one of the oldest financial dynasties in the United States of America.

Right now, he felt like a clown flipping off the ocean.

No matter how many times he flipped off the ocean, the ocean was still the ocean; its tides wouldn’t change for his finger.

He thought back to that morning, to Kroenke walking away without a backward glance.

Stan Kroenke was far better connected than he was. He must have gotten the news before *Vanity Fair* published it, and he surely knew from the start that the Mellon Family was involved.

At least when it came to this matter, Kroenke was clearly unhappy with Howard West’s methods—and the results.

“Mr. West,” his assistant asked timidly from across the desk, “should I… still make that call to the Los Angeles Police Department?”