Fortune was a biweekly under Time Inc. On the day the new issue hit stands, Steve Ross called Simon personally, saying he had known nothing about it beforehand. In the same breath he offered congratulations, and added that he would be at Simon's wedding on March 3 right on time.
With 4.5 billion in cash, and counting his other assets, Simon had effectively become the first mega-rich tycoon in federal history whose net worth crossed the 10-billion mark.
That did seem like something worth celebrating.
During Pretty Woman's run, because it was competing head-to-head with Time Warner's own Steven Seagal action film Storm of Seven Years, Time magazine, also under the Time Warner umbrella, had given Pretty Woman a bad review.
Time Warner wasn't a single solid block inside, but if someone said Steve Ross had no idea about that, Simon didn't buy it.
Even so, Simon couldn't be bothered to argue about it.
Because after Fortune exposed the overseas-asset filings Simon had registered with the IRS, what he received was not congratulations, but suspicion.
The 4.5-billion figure that Fortune published and the media obsessed over was not an exact accounting of Simon's overseas holdings. It was simply the declared taxable amount.
And that money wasn't all sitting as pure cash, either. A large portion was in short-term convertible financial products, designed to generate returns slightly higher than bank interest while remaining extremely safe.
If you included Nokia, Gucci, and Simon's overseas real estate, his assets outside the U.S. could easily exceed five billion.
But most media outlets and the public didn't care about any of that.
The question dominating public debate was simple: where did 4.5 billion in cash actually come from?
Daenerys Entertainment's rise had a clear, traceable arc. But Cercei Capital's operations were opaque to almost everyone.
So it was hard for people to believe that a hedge fund could, in just a single year, produce a fortune of 4.5 billion for one man.
That kind of profit was on par with IBM, Ford, General Electric, the biggest money-printing corporate giants in North America.
And those giants all ran revenues on the scale of hundreds of billions.
So it was only natural that the media and the public began to wonder whether there were secrets behind that 4.5-billion mountain of money.
As the doubts piled up, Simon was forced to respond.
Pat Kingsley, still acting as his PR manager, stated at a February 28 press conference that Simon had already proven his financial talent during his 1987 S&P 500 operations. The 4.5 billion earned over the past year had come entirely from Cercei Capital's lawful trading and related commission income, with no insider activity involved.
Only then did people remember.
During the 1987 crash, Simon's index futures plays had made him the youngest billionaire in North America.
Now, through another round of market operations, Simon Westeros had advanced from billionaire to ten-billionaire. Suddenly, it sounded… plausible.
And yet, 4.5 billion.
For one individual, it was simply too enormous.
On last year's Forbes list of America's 400 richest, besides Simon Westeros, only John Kluge had a net worth higher than that number.
Even on the global rich list, fewer than twenty people had fortunes above 4.5 billion.
And this wasn't some illiquid pile of property or stock.
It was cash.
By that logic, Simon Westeros might be the wealthiest cash-holder among all the world's billionaires.
Simon's methods during the 1987 crash had been fully exposed in the media back then, that godlike ability to ride the market's curve so perfectly that it couldn't possibly be replicated.
So what was the truth this time?
With that curiosity gnawing at them, more than a few outlets began blowing into federal regulators' ears, demanding intervention and a deeper investigation into Cercei Capital's operations.
But those attempts were doomed.
Cercei Capital had only just confirmed it would set its headquarters in Manhattan. Before that, the hedge fund had been registered in the Cayman Islands and wasn't even under federal jurisdiction.
As for using Cercei Capital's trading in the U.S. stock and bond markets last year as an excuse, that was still hard to make stick.
Unless there was suspicion of wrongdoing, no regulator could just launch an investigation on a whim, let alone demand a company disclose commercial information for no reason at all.
Did Cercei Capital have violations?
Given how many North American financial institutions had been watching it closely last year, if there had been anything illegal, it would have surfaced long ago. Even if it offered no benefit, sheer jealousy would have been enough. Too many people would have loved to see Cercei Capital fall.
But nothing happened.
If there had been a handle to grab, sticking Cercei Capital with a knife would have been easy.
Without hard evidence, launching an investigation just because Cercei Capital made too much money would only leave regulators humiliated.
And Simon Westeros was hardly powerless.
When it became clear Cercei Capital couldn't be used to trouble him, some people shifted their aim to taxes.
4.5 billion in cash. At the 28% capital-gains rate applied to Simon Westeros's declared carried-interest income, that meant more than 1.2 billion in taxes owed.
More than a billion in taxes. In federal history, no living person had ever "owed" that much.
And Westeros clearly had no intention of immediately bringing the money back home.
How could that be allowed?
So just days after Fortune's report, a U.S. senator from Tennessee publicly stated that unless Simon paid those overdue taxes immediately, Cercei Capital should be barred from doing business inside the United States.
To push the point, the senator even solemnly submitted a bill to Congress.
After all, Simon Westeros wasn't the only one who kept capital overseas to avoid taxes while still doing business back home through various channels. If such a law passed, it would instantly deliver a sizable new stream of revenue to the federal budget.
But America's global taxation policy had always been controversial.
To encourage overseas money to return, every few years the federal government would offer tax amnesties, guiding capital back through exemptions.
Now, trying to ram through even stricter laws to tax overseas assets would not just touch Simon's interests.
It would shake a great many people.
And if you backed them into a corner, it wasn't as if they had no countermeasures.
America's general approach to taxing overseas income was to collect the portion that exceeded what a taxpayer had already paid abroad, but remained below the domestic tax share.
If the federal government pushed too far, taxpayers could simply stop using avoidance schemes and instead pay the full amount of their taxes directly to foreign governments. That would win goodwill abroad and potentially better policy support.
Compared to that, paying the money at home got you nothing.
Not even a sticker.
Anyone with eyes could see the logic.
So unless the leadership in Washington had collectively gone mad with hunger, that Tennessee senator's bill had no chance of passing.
Even knowing the storm wouldn't truly endanger him, Simon felt no lighter.
Because beyond digging for Cercei Capital's "secrets" and hounding him over taxes, some outlets turned their fire on Wall Street itself, arguing for restrictions on financial speculation.
The federal junk-bond crisis that exploded at the end of last year was still dragging on. And again, some people tried to pin it on Simon, steering the narrative toward the idea that short-sellers like Cercei Capital had "crushed" the junk-bond market and caused countless investors to bleed.
In the end, it all came down to one thing: a twenty-two-year-old man accumulating over ten billion in assets in just a few years was, in itself, a kind of unforgivable original sin.
Handle it wrong, and the average public, easily stirred by media outrage, might develop resistance to every company in the Westeros system, especially Daenerys Entertainment.
It could even place heavy obstacles in Simon's path for expansion over the next few years.
So the entire PR apparatus across the Westeros empire ran at full speed. James Rebould even hired an additional professional media-PR firm specifically for narrative steering.
Melbourne.
With North America boiling, Simon still flew over a full week before the wedding.
Given the current media climate, the coming wedding would be a complete blackout. To make sure the massive wave of paparazzi flooding in from around the world couldn't penetrate any wedding location, the Johnston family hired an enormous security team of more than three hundred.
The Yarra Valley Park wedding site was sealed completely half a month in advance. Every team and individual involved signed strict confidentiality agreements. Before the wedding or after, not a single detail could be revealed to the outside world.
The Johnston estate.
It was already Thursday, March 1.
In the past few days, Simon hadn't slept more than five hours a night. Last night, he'd been checking wedding-prep details until after one in the morning, and before six he was awake again.
Janet was excited these days too, up early as well.
For convenience, the two of them had been staying at the estate.
At six in the morning in Melbourne, it was still one in the afternoon the previous day in Los Angeles.
He spent over an hour on the phone discussing the latest developments with North America. When the staff reminded him, Simon ended the call, and it was already close to eight.
When he reached the dining room, the whole family was already at the table.
Raymond Johnston and his wife were there, of course, along with Veronica Johnston, as cool and distant as ever. David Johnston had returned from Britain specifically, with his girlfriend Leslie Wickett beside him. Patrick Johnston and Sarah Keaston were there too.
After greeting everyone, Simon sat down next to Janet. Raymond Johnston asked, "How's it going in North America?"
Simon picked up his utensils. "Still lively."
Raymond nodded. "What you've accomplished in the past few years is beyond what most ordinary people can understand. Their reaction isn't surprising. After the wedding, you and Jenny should rest for a while, keep your faces out of the media, and it'll cool down quickly. Honestly, I'd advise you not to make any big moves for the next few years. Give the public time to adjust."
Before Simon could answer, Janet couldn't help snapping back, "So we're just supposed to do nothing?"
Raymond shot his daughter a glare. "Not 'do nothing.' Keep a low profile. Integrate what you already have. Digest it properly."
With so many people in the room, Simon couldn't bring up the fact that Daenerys Entertainment still planned to move on MCA this year. He simply nodded along.
Janet's mother, Tracy Johnston, looked at the two of them and said, "You'd better hurry up and have a baby."
At that, Janet's cheeks immediately turned rosy, whether real or act.
The report from the British genetics institute had reached Simon last week. Nothing was wrong. In truth, Simon hadn't worried much from the start. It had never been as serious as the stories in his memory made it sound. So they had already decided to try for a child as soon as possible. It was Janet's hope, and on another level, it would also give Simon one more tether to this world.
After breakfast, Anthony Johnston and Norman Johnston's families arrived as well.
The wedding was the day after tomorrow. There was far too much left to do over the next two days.
Once tasks and schedules were handed out, Simon and Janet went together to Yarra Valley Park. The floral maze Janet had planned was set to begin construction today, and she wanted to watch personally. Simon still had to go to Melbourne Airport afterward to pick up guests, since people would start arriving in waves.
Inside the sealed-off park, Janet spoke with the head of the planning team. When everyone got busy, she turned to Simon and said, "One more thing. Kate, Jenny, and the others will be here this afternoon. Tomorrow we've booked Bali for a bachelorette party. What about you?"
A bachelor or bachelorette party, the farewell-to-singlehood tradition, was pretty standard in the West.
Simon hadn't thought about it at all. He laughed. "What, should I go with you?"
Janet immediately rolled her eyes. "If you come, how is that a bachelorette party?"
Simon pulled her in, arm wrapping around her waist. "Go have fun. I don't have that kind of tradition. And don't go too wild."
Truth was, even if Simon wanted a bachelor party, he couldn't really think of any peers his age he could actually play with.
Janet's eyes flicked, as if a thought had sparked, but she glanced up at Simon and quickly buried it. She could have asked her youngest brother to help organize something for him, but thinking back to what happened at Parker's fight club, she dropped the idea. She wasn't about to let anything threaten the wedding she'd waited so long for.
Around them, workers started setting up the flower walls, and the air filled with the drifting scent of roses. Janet rested her head against Simon's chest and murmured, almost to herself, "You little bastard… we're really getting married, aren't we?"
Simon smiled and nodded. "Yeah."
"I just want to confirm it one more time."
"Want me to pinch you, prove you're not dreaming?"
"Mm."
Simon's hand slid lower and gave her a light squeeze on the hip.
Janet let out a soft little sound and tightened her arms around him.
Feeling her go soft in his embrace, Simon simply held her and sat down with her on the grass.
The staff nearby took one look and discreetly gave them space.
A faint humming began to drift in the air, soft and husky, barely more than breath.
…
When I was just a little girl
I asked my mother, "What will I be?"
"Will I be pretty? Will I be rich?"
Here's what she said to me
Que será, será
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours to see
Que será, será
What will be, will be
…
There was no accompaniment, but the melody was the same as that warm Christmas Eve long ago.