The American TV series "Four-Round Boxing Champion Starts with Shameless"

Page 135

Victor stood in front of the revolving door of the luxury hotel, watching Caroline Channing get into the black Lincoln.

The car window slowly rose, obscuring her delicate yet aloof profile.

As the car drove into the night, he stood there, his hands still feeling the warmth of her arm, but that warmth was quickly dissipated by the night wind.

"It's just a transaction."

"An admission ticket is required."

Viktor muttered to himself and turned to walk in the opposite direction.

He wasn't the fat guy who had just awakened to his true potential, arrogant and invincible because of a few victories in amateur competitions, nor would he think he could control things just because of a clumsy, accidental escape, and then be seduced by others.

Victor now knows what the Channing family is planning—to use a fake romance to cover up some more complex intentions.

This could lead to the complete collapse of a business empire, and perhaps bring an even bigger wave to this financial crisis.

But beneath the complexities, there is a very simple truth:

He was merely a pawn in this game, conveniently positioned to be exploited.

Back in his hotel room, Victor took off his expensive suit, and the shirt underneath made him feel uncomfortable, as if it didn't belong to his skin.

He looked at himself in the mirror, a boxer from Chicago's South Side who shouldn't have any connection with the upper-class Channing family.

But fate is ironic. Blair's identities as a boxer, businessman, and Chicago Chinese leader caught the attention of Channing, which led to that meeting and the eventual proposal of a "relationship".

Victor clearly remembered what old Channing had said:

"Young man, it won't do you any harm."

The Channing family will provide him with the necessary tickets to make other Americans see Viktor as an American, while he simply needs to show up at appropriate times and play the role of a rising boxing star who is in love with Caroline Channing.

Each gets what they need, without any emotional entanglement—this is precisely what Viktor insists on.

He was unwilling to pay an emotional price for any deal—an important lesson he had learned from Fiona and Veronica.

Meanwhile, Caroline Channing, sitting in her Lincoln, stared blankly at the New York nightscape passing by outside the window.

The driver glanced at her through the rearview mirror.

"The boss is very concerned about your situation tonight, Miss."

The driver said cautiously.

"I told him everything was going according to plan, and he made the offer, which I accepted."

Caroline's voice was flat. "Victor agreed and didn't cross the line."

She opened her handbag, took out her powder compact, and checked her makeup in the dim light.

A perfect mask, just like everything else in her life.

The Channing family's daughter doesn't need genuine feelings; she only needs to complete her father's arrangements, even though she prefers a rich and handsome man from New York to a roughneck who doesn't even recognize cosmetic brands.

Especially since this roughneck even carried a dangerous object under his arm when 'dating' her.

But she had to admit that Victor Lee was more charming than she had expected:

When he looked at her, there was no longing or awe that ordinary men have, but rather an almost cold assessment, as if she were the one being weighed on a scale.

He exudes dynamism, without any timidity or hesitation. He is not self-conscious in front of himself and will openly admit that he doesn't understand those brands.

This body can't even attract a man?

Caroline felt that a rich and handsome Wall Street man was more suitable for her.

·······

On March 5th, sunlight streamed through the glass windows of the Brooklyn Eagle building and fell onto the signing table.

Viktor signed his name with firm and powerful strokes.

Sports editor Johnson shook his hand with a smile.

“Mister Lee, we will have a bright future.”

"it's my honour."

Viktor responded politely, knowing in his heart that the opportunity was related to money, and that he simply wanted a platform for publicity.

"At least I won't be the subject of widespread criticism across America anymore!"

After the signing ceremony, Alice Moretti and her husband Mark waited for him at the door.

Alice is Victor's friend and one of the very few people who knows the true nature of Victor's temper.

"So, how was the acting?"

Alice asked in a low voice as she helped him pick up his luggage.

"Proceed according to the script."

Viktor gave a brief reply.

On the way to the airport, Victor gazed at the scenery rushing past the window, contemplating his choice.

The deal with the Channing family would save him ten years of struggle—he wouldn't have to rely so urgently on members of Congress to step in.

But at what cost?

He recalled Caroline's calmly assessing blue eyes from last night, as if she were measuring his worth. He hated being measured, but wasn't life just a series of measurements?

The most direct result of this assessment is that more agents will accept Viktor's challenge.

While waiting at the airport, Viktor felt uneasy. After all, he was only twenty-two years old, and he still wanted to make a fortune through his own abilities—but he had taken a shortcut.

Looking at Alice beside him, he said, "There's still time, how about we have a fling?"

Alice hugged him tightly—in the bathroom.

······

Back in familiar Chicago, Victor rested for a night.

The next day, he prepared to continue training, the smell of sweat and leather in the boxing gym making him feel real.

The dull thud of the punching bag, the dust flying across the floor, the profanities that never landed—this was his world, not the fake parties and flashing lights of New York.

However, on the morning of March 8th, the doorbell broke his routine.

Viktor, wearing sweatpants and a sweat-soaked shirt clinging to his body and lower body, opened the door with a puzzled look.

Caroline Channing stood outside the door, wearing an expensive cashmere coat and carrying a suitcase, looking out of place in the surrounding dilapidated apartment building.

Viktor blurted out in surprise.

"Won't you invite me in?"

Caroline raised an eyebrow and unceremoniously squeezed past him into the apartment, the driver following behind carrying a suitcase: "Is it okay if I leave my car here?"

Victor glanced at the Lincoln: "It's safe here."

He turned to face the uninvited guest.

“Explain, Caroline.”

Caroline looked around the spacious and tidy apartment, her gaze finally settling on him.

"I need a cup of coffee, then we can talk."

Victor couldn't help but laugh: "This isn't your five-star hotel, Princess. There's no butler, no room service. The coffee pot's over there, help yourself."

Caroline seemed taken aback by his bluntness—his shorts were actually half-wet—but quickly regained her composure.

“Great, I like a ‘tough’ boyfriend.”

She took off her coat, revealing a custom-made suit underneath, and then walked towards the kitchenette.

Victor leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, watching her clumsily operate the coffee machine.

This young lady has clearly never brewed coffee herself.

Finally, Caroline's driver couldn't stand it anymore—he couldn't stand that Victor wasn't helping at all and skillfully started operating the vehicle.

Victor, holding the 'purple chicken breast protein amino acid semi-fluid' that Michael had prepared, downed it in one gulp: "Tell me, why are you here?"

Caroline took a deep breath: "My father's company is in trouble."

Viktor continued moving: "What does this have to do with me?"

Caroline fell silent.

Victor glanced at the driver, who, with great awareness, went out to guard his car.

"So he gave me a sum of pocket money."

Caroline was blunt: "He plans to invest five million in your company."

Viktor's hand froze in mid-air as he turned to face her: "This doesn't seem like a small matter."

"To be precise, it means laundering the money so that I can use it."

Caroline's tone was as casual as discussing the weather: "It's your duty as her boyfriend."

Victor finally understood the true weight of this deal.

He took the brewed coffee, handed her a cup, and then walked to the window, gazing at the gray Chicago street scene outside.

This number is larger than imagined.

It can change a life, the life of many.

But that was enough to put him in a situation from which there was no turning back.

“It’s illegal.”

"You, a gang leader, still care about so much? I came all this way by asking for directions. Everyone knows you're a mafia boss."

Caroline chuckled. "And this is just smart asset management. You yourself said that what we're doing is just a transaction. Now the transaction is activated."

Viktor turned around and looked her over carefully.

Caroline Channing is beautiful and aloof, like a meticulously sculpted ice statue.

But at that moment he saw a hint of nervousness in her eyes—she was worried that he would refuse.

"Why choose me?"