So...
After several phone calls, the weekend interactions over these past two months shifted from online communication to offline meetings. Everything was progressing smoothly.
Except for the President of Trinity, who had one tiny suggestion.
Locke, however, satisfied his request.
Gwen, on the other hand, had a different perspective on the matter.
Once they were in the car, Gwen frowned. "This was your proposal. Why did you let him in on it? Even if Trinity didn't participate, the plan wouldn't have been affected, right?"
The Trinity President's suggestion was simple: he wanted to be listed as a co-initiator of Locke's plan; otherwise, he wouldn't join.
Locke agreed.
The reason?
Locke started the car and smiled. "He wants the glory, I want the benefits. It's just a matter of each taking what they need. Besides, you can't deny that Trinity's financial resources are immense."
Compared to Trinity's student council, Midtown High's council looked like a bunch of local nouveau riche.
Moreover...
Locke said with a smile, "He also privately promised to help Midtown High secure the Hilton Hotel as the venue for this year's graduation prom."
Gwen frowned slightly. "I didn't hear him say that."
Locke handed his phone to Gwen.
Gwen took it, scrolled through, and then laughed. "When the seniors find out you got them the Hilton for prom, they're going to be ecstatic."
Locke laughed heartily.
The other guy wanted the reputation. Locke wanted the results. He only cared about the outcome, not the process. As long as the result was what he wanted, he didn't care how they got there. He didn't need fame, and he didn't plan on chasing it.
Locke's original intention was to use the student council's name to earn points for himself. As long as this platform could be built, his guaranteed income of over a hundred thousand points for the next two years would be secured. Not to mention, the Trinity President really gave a lot.
A private contribution of fifty thousand dollars to the prize pool, while everyone else's contributions remained the same. Furthermore, he privately promised to secure the Hilton ballroom for Midtown's prom—essentially returning a portion of the "fame" he had taken from Locke.
So, why not agree?
That evening.
While Locke and Gwen were having dinner at the Stacy household, their phones began to chime and vibrate incessantly.
The three background characters of the Stacy family looked curiously at Locke and Gwen as they pulled out their phones.
Helen looked at Gwen, her curiosity piqued. "What happened?"
Gwen looked at the graduation prom planning group, which was filled with excited messages shouting "Long live Locke!" and smiled. She answered Helen's question: "It's about the prom."
George sipped his whiskey and looked at Locke, who had directly silenced his phone. "I thought you guys weren't meddling in the prom?"
Since they were in different grades, and Locke hadn't chosen to involve himself in the seniors' prom after officially taking office, the planning committee was still made up of twelfth-grade graduates.
Gwen put her phone away and smiled. "Locke helped them move this year's prom to the Hilton Hotel. The news must have just reached them; they're all expressing their thanks in the group."
Locke smiled.
George raised an eyebrow. "The Hilton? Are those photos of yours selling so well that they can cover the cost of the Hilton?"
Locke's mouth twitched. Whenever that photobook was mentioned, he felt a pang of regret. He had been too hasty back then.
Gwen laughed. "Dad, the student council isn't paying for this. Although we do get quite a lot in dividends from the photobook sales, this money was paid privately by the Trinity President to the Hilton."
With that, Gwen gave a brief explanation of the project Locke had been working on for two months and the deal he made with the Trinity President.
However, George's focus was entirely on the photobook.
"Hiss."
George, hearing Gwen say that the dividends were enough to book the Hilton, couldn't help but suck in a breath. "How much money has Locke's photobook made?"
Locke opened his mouth to speak, but Gwen cut in. "Dad, that's a commercial secret."
George looked directly at Locke.
Locke made a helpless gesture. "To be honest, I don't know the exact sales figures either. I just authorized Cindy's sorority."
"Then what about your cut?"
"Roughly eighty thousand."
"..."
George went silent for a moment. "How much?"
Gwen looked at George's stunned expression and laughed. "Dad, it's not just high schools. Universities and sororities in other states have been reaching out to Cindy to become local distributors."
George was dumbfounded. Not just New York City? This photobook had sold nationwide?
Jesus Christ.
Wait, that's not right.
George had an illusion—feeling from Locke that making money was actually such an easy and simple thing. Snap a few photos, and in less than two months, there was an income of eighty thousand?
What the f—?
In reality...
It shouldn't have been possible to sell nationwide. But Nina Bell's case was something the entire country was paying attention to recently. Specifically, according to information disclosed by the FBI proving that Nina Bell's family was connected to the September 2001 events, the focus had intensified.
Naturally, Nina Bell's school, Locke, and his campaign photobook were broadcast as fluff news. As a result, after TV stations in various states aired the segments, people wanted to lick their screens. Thus, the factories that were planning to shut down their machines went into full gear once again.
Locke wanted to say it was enough, but he had already given his authorization, and there was a contract. From a legal standpoint, as long as Cindy's side paid Locke his dividends as agreed, he had no reason to call a halt.
That was why Locke said he felt he had made a mistake.
George, listening to Gwen's explanation, was also slightly dazed. He shook his head in resignation. "Young girls these days don't look for talent; they only look at faces."
Gwen was unhappy. "Dad, isn't Locke's talent just as high as his looks?"
George: "..."
Is this still my little girl? I was just making a comment; was it necessary to undermine me like that?
Damned wild boar.
George didn't dare strike back at Gwen, but he wasn't polite with Locke. "Tomorrow I'm taking you to the range. We'll see if the shotgun fits your hand. I don't want you failing to hit a single rabbit when we go hunting."
Yes. Hunting.
Locke didn't plan to participate in the prom planning at the end of June, and the Student Council Knowledge Super Bowl would only be implemented during the school semester in the second half of the year. Therefore, George planned to meet up with his old comrades and go hunting.
The destination: West Virginia!
Locke nodded and smiled. "I'm looking forward to hunting with you."
He had already made up his mind. If George came back empty-handed from the hunt, he would quietly find a rabbit while they were camping and have it "accidentally" knock itself out on George's tent, just so the empty-handed George wouldn't lose face.
"By the way."
Helen, seeing the thoughts on her husband's face, directly changed the subject. "The Nina Bell family case—didn't the court session open yesterday? How did it go?"
To be precise, yesterday was the final court session, but as of now, no verdict had been announced.
George said, "The jury couldn't reach a consensus."
"What?" Helen frowned. "They won't be acquitted, will they?"
"How is that possible?" George laughed. "The prosecution's chain of evidence is very clear. They found the computer used to contact the terrorists in a hidden compartment in their home, and fingerprints from that computer were extracted."
Helen asked, "Then why hasn't the verdict been issued?"
George shook his head. "The jury is stuck between the ultimate penalty and the death penalty."
The ultimate penalty was, naturally, the electric chair. The death penalty was lethal injection. To put it simply, death was certain. The jury was just debating the method of death. After all, the electric chair was considered a bit too cruel.
George added, "But the FBI isn't in a hurry. The result is certain. Besides, with the number of people the FBI needs to prosecute this time, even at one case a day, it'll take a month."
However, Nina Bell's family were the masterminds; the others seemed to be accomplices. Though those people insisted they were just making money through equal rights activism and weren't terrorists at all.
But...
The business owners in New York City didn't think so. Neither did the ledgers found in Nina Bell's house or the transaction history of those people's bank accounts.
As for the so-called equal rights organizations and the animal protection associations? They hadn't made a sound.
Locke and Gwen listened to the conversation between George and Helen without choosing to interject.
After returning to the room.
Only then did Gwen sigh.
Locke looked at her curiously.
Gwen shook her head. "Nina Bell is only eighteen."
Locke hummed. "I heard that over in terrorist camps, eight-year-old kids can already handle an AK."
Gwen glanced at Locke. "I'm not sympathizing with her, Locke."
Locke smiled. "I know. After all, Nina Bell was someone we knew, right?"
Gwen nodded. "Right, that's what I meant. Nothing more. I just didn't expect... mmm!"
After a long moment.
Gwen caught her breath and rolled her eyes at Locke. "What are you doing?"
Locke shrugged. "Comforting you."
Gwen: "..."
A few days later.
While Locke, Gwen, Cindy, and Kahn were at the library reading, the federal court finally reached a consensus on Nina Bell's verdict after nearly a week of deliberation.
Nina Bell's parents: Three counts of federal felonies and five counts of federal misdemeanors established.
Sentenced to the ultimate penalty!
As for Nina Bell?
Her age was a factor, and in the end, the jury softened their hearts. She was sentenced to life imprisonment, to serve her time in a New York women's prison.
***
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