While organizing his thoughts, Simon scrutinized Victor Merisis, who sat on the opposite sofa in the reception area, and asked, "Victor, hmm, do you mind if I call you that?"
The middle-aged man responded, "Not at all, Mr. Westeros."
Simon nodded slightly. "Victor, I've reviewed your background: a graduate of the University of Lisbon, you served in the Portuguese Special Forces, and for the past decade or so, you've been engaged in import-export trade between Portugal and Angola. You also own a coffee plantation in northern Angola, but that's secondary. I also know a bit about the history of the Merisis family. As first-generation immigrants, your family operated a coffee plantation in the southern province of Cuando, where I now own land. Then, in 1975, we all know what happened. Due to independence and civil war, more than 500,000 white Angolans were forced to flee. You were lucky—you were 19 and studying at the University of Lisbon at the time. Unfortunately, your parents and two siblings encountered armed conflict during their escape."
Victor Merisis maintained eye contact with Simon as he listened, his expression resolute but tinged with a sadness that lingered even after all these years.
Simon finished and continued to stare at the middle-aged man across from him. "Victor, I'm hiring you because I found out that more than a fifth of Angola's pitiful 500 tons of coffee exports last year came from your northern plantation. I know you're an outstanding individual, and I like talented people. But, since you brought up the past, I need to know—what do you want from me? Revenge?"
Victor didn't answer Simon's question directly. Instead, he said, "When I was young, my father was my hero. He was a cowboy-like figure, always ready to take risks. Our family once owned 18,000 acres of coffee plantations in the Cuando Province, producing 5,000 tons of the finest Arabica coffee every year. My childhood memories are filled with endless hills of coffee trees. But in 1975, everything disappeared. Revenge? Of course, I've thought about it. I finished university in two and a half years and then joined the military, hoping to return to Angola and avenge my family. However, after spending three years investigating, I found no leads. Mr. Westeros, you might be able to imagine it—a group of monkeys gathered in the wild jungle, all looking the same. How do you pick out a specific enemy from among them? So, I chose another path. My father always told me that if someone takes something from you, take it back with interest. I've been doing that for years, building from scratch, and after more than a decade, I've reached this point. Then, I received word that you needed someone to manage your coffee plantation, and as fate would have it, that land includes our former plantation."
Simon patiently listened to Victor's story and then asked, "So, you want to reclaim your family's plantation?"
Victor shook his head. "No, that place is just a memory now. Even if I return, everything has changed. What my father told me was that if someone takes something from you, you take it back with interest. I just need you to give me a platform. How much I can reclaim will depend on my ability. Of course, I guarantee that you'll gain just as much, if not more, than I will."
"Good," Simon nodded. "But, understand this, Victor, what I need first and foremost is a manager for my coffee plantation."
"Of course, Mr. Westeros, and I assure you, no one is more qualified than me. Your plantation involves far more than just growing coffee. It's 150,000 acres—much larger than our family's plantation ever was. This requires more than a simple farmer. Managing relations with the authorities, recruiting labor, handling post-harvest sales, even security—these are all areas where I have experience."
"Do you mind sharing your long-term plans?" Simon asked.
"You're already doing it, Mr. Westeros—by penetrating Angola's various sectors through arms deals with the government. That's exactly what I've wanted to achieve, but I've lacked the resources to access the country's higher echelons. If you hire me, I can spend the next three years restoring the coffee plantation in the Cuando Province. Due to the war, the surrounding coffee regions have been abandoned. It will take three years to grow new coffee trees and harvest them for the first time. After that, if you're satisfied with my work, I hope to gain more support from your group and venture into other industries in Angola."
"Which industries specifically?"
"Aside from coffee, my trading company has been involved in timber exports for years. Angola has abundant forestry resources, which are scarce in Europe due to increasingly stringent environmental regulations. But you probably know that my business isn't large. If given the opportunity, I'd also like to venture into Angola's mining sector. After all, in African countries, industries like these are often their lifeblood."
Simon considered for a moment before responding, "In that case, the job is yours. And I don't mind if you continue managing your current import-export business. If you let it stagnate for three years, it'll be hard to pick up again. But if you think you can't juggle both, focusing solely on the coffee plantation is also fine."
"That's good, Mr. Westeros. I only hesitated because I thought you might not like someone splitting their focus."
"Do you mind if I take a stake?"
"I only need to retain 30% of the shares."
"A smart decision. I'll give you $5 million, and I'll take 70%. Of course, this isn't to purchase your shares; it's an injection of capital. All of it must go towards the company's operations and expansion. Regarding timber exports, I can also introduce you to some business opportunities. In Ukraine, one of my companies is looking to enter the furniture manufacturing industry."
Victor Merisis, even considering his coffee plantation in northern Angola, was worth less than $1 million. Simon's offer of $5 million for 70% of his import-export company was an extremely favorable deal.
Victor didn't make any further promises. Instead, he commented on Simon's mention of Ukraine. "Mr. Westeros, I think Ukraine has no shortage of forestry resources. Importing timber from Africa wouldn't be cost-effective."
Victor's candid reminder earned him another point in Simon's mind. Many others might have kept quiet about such things.
With a smile, Simon said, "Ukraine certainly doesn't lack ordinary wood. But what they don't have are the top-tier woods from Africa's ancient forests. That's what they need."
Earlier in the year, Simon had suggested to Sergey Komorov during his trip to Ukraine that he explore the furniture manufacturing sector, given Ukraine's abundant forestry resources and relatively low costs. Komorov had followed Simon's advice, shutting down a heavily polluting paper mill and converting it into a furniture factory. A few months ago, they had successfully secured an outsourcing deal with IKEA.
Beyond that, Komorov had been inspired by his trips to Western Europe and had launched a home furnishings brand under the Oldek company. In one phone conversation, he mentioned this to Simon, who, in his usual fashion, named the brand "Katrina." The name didn't reference Game of Thrones this time; instead, Simon thought of Catherine the Great of Russia. He had planned to call the company "Victoria's Secret," but Catherine's English name, "Catherine," was too long to follow the rule of short names leading to successful companies. So, he chose "Katrina," still not short, but easier to spell and remember.
Since the company was based in Eastern Europe, breaking into the planned Western European market wouldn't be easy due to inherent biases. If they positioned themselves as a low-end brand, they might get stuck in Ukraine, so Simon suggested that Katrina start with high-end custom furniture to establish a reputation before expanding further.
Sergey Komorov had even hired a furniture designer from the UK for this project.
At present, the company was still in its preparatory stages, with plans to launch its first products by the end of the year.
For high-end custom furniture, quality materials were just as crucial as good design. And when it came to top-tier hardwood, the African forests, home to century-old rosewood, batik, zitan, and other precious woods, were unparalleled. Not to mention the vast reserves of sandalwood in Africa.
After talking with Victor Merisis for about an hour, Simon sent him off. By then, it was already 5 p.m.
Punctuality and Simon had little to do with each other.
After Victor left, Amy Pascal came into Simon's office to discuss the preparations for the Universal Studios project in Europe.
The negotiations between Daenerys Entertainment and the Italian government for the establishment of Universal Studios Europe near Rome were nearing their final stages, and the group's agents had already started purchasing land in the surrounding areas.
At this point, keeping the project entirely confidential was becoming increasingly difficult.
Recently, land prices in the areas around Rome where the theme park might be built were skyrocketing, with speculative capital quietly buying up plots, hoping to make a significant profit once the news became public. To keep land acquisition costs as low as possible, Daenerys' team had drawn up two potential plans: one west of Rome and one south of the city.
Unlike Universal Studios in places like Los Angeles, Rome is situated on a vast plain in central Italy, where land is not in short supply. Both the western and southern locations were suitable for a theme park. A significant price hike was inevitable, but by offering a choice between two locations, they hoped to force land
owners looking to cash in to make concessions.
Of course, despite appearances, one option was favored over the other.
Daenerys' executives and the theme park team strongly preferred building the park west of Rome, between Leonardo da Vinci International Airport and the city. This location offered the best transportation access and the highest potential visitor traffic. If negotiations for the western site broke down, they would move forward with the southern option.
By the time Simon wrapped up his day, it was already after 6 p.m.
When he returned to the Dume Point Estate, there were guests—Celia Miller had arrived.
Since Simon hadn't been to New York recently, Celia had flown to Los Angeles to personally report on some work matters. With no time to meet during the day, she decided to visit in the evening. Given that military affairs were largely a private matter for the Westeros family, discussing them at home was perfectly appropriate.
As for Celia staying at Dume Point Estate, that wasn't unusual either.
The estate had no shortage of guest rooms.
Aside from the Shell Villa, the large expanse of land Simon had acquired over the years included several cliffside villas. The estate, resembling a B-2 bomber when viewed from above, could easily accommodate hundreds of guests. Of course, Simon was never one for hosting large gatherings, and parties at his home were few and far between, let alone having too many guests.
Dinner was still being prepared, and business wasn't discussed immediately.
When Simon arrived home, Janet and Celia were sitting by the ocean-facing glass wall of the Shell Villa, sipping coffee and chatting, looking more familiar with each other than Simon himself. In fact, they were. Janet had been overseeing many of the affairs of the Westeros family's private military force, especially after the integration of the private intelligence team. With the merging of these two forces, she had even more responsibilities.
Just as Simon sat down next to the glass wall, his little son ran over with two black-backed ducklings in tow.
Recently, the little guy had wanted to raise ducks, so Simon had found two wild duck eggs for him. They were close to hatching when they arrived, and a week ago, they successfully hatched. The little guy had stayed by the incubator the whole time, and due to the birds' natural imprinting behavior, they had come to recognize him as their mother.
Or rather, their father.
In the past few days, his son had been inseparable from the two little ducklings, even naming them Jack and Emma. Simon wasn't entirely sure which was which, nor if the names matched their actual genders. Either way, they were his son's pets.
Whatever.
When the little guy came closer, he greeted his dad politely and even said hello to Celia before holding up one of the ducklings and saying, "Dad, Emma grew a bit more today."
Simon smiled, took the duckling, and lifted his son onto his lap. As they exchanged a few words, the other duckling started chirping. Sitting beside him, Janet had already picked up "Jack," playing with it with great interest. She could never resist something cute and fluffy.
Of course, Janet had no patience for actually raising animals.
She just liked to play with them.
Their son, seeing his mom mishandling his beloved pet, didn't dare snatch it back—he'd evidently tried and failed before. Instead, he gave his dad a pitiful look. Simon was also helpless about Janet's habit of holding the duckling by its wings to make it chirp. He reached out to rescue the little creature and, following his son's pleading eyes, took both ducklings and moved them a safe distance away.
Mom was too scary.
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