The Rise Of A Billionaire 1943

After all that work, the credit goes to the leaders!

The intelligence was cracked by the Americans.

The weapons were provided by the Americans.

Even the transport ships were probably arranged by the Allies!

As for the Italian pilots, that must have been the President's stroke of genius.

Yes, everything was thanks to President Roosevelt's foresight and masterful planning.

President Roosevelt's calculations were truly shrewd!

Brilliant, absolutely brilliant!

Facing Truman's eager expression, Pierre remained calm, holding a cigar between his fingers, crossing his legs leisurely, quietly contemplating man and society, man and the world, war and peace…

All nonsense—the real question was the benefits.

What could he actually gain from this?

He had been plotting for so long, moving each piece step by step, all for this moment. If they wanted to take it, they'd have to offer something in return!

The atmosphere in the study shifted into a peculiar silence—one man deep in thought, the other anxious.

In fact, the mastermind behind all of this was none other than Truman. As Roosevelt's running mate and future Vice President, he needed to help Roosevelt through this crisis. In his view, this was the optimal solution.

Of course, after he suggested it, even Roosevelt and the others were stunned.

Everyone gave him a thumbs up and praised, "Captain Truman, you're brilliant."

But the problem was… they still had to convince the person involved!

So naturally, the responsibility fell to Truman, leading to this private dinner.

"This is a good thing," Truman emphasized, then said to Pierre:

"If you agree, there will definitely be all sorts of benefits for you. The President will surely reward you—such as with matters in North Borneo."

He kept it vague, without specifying what the rewards would be, but one thing was certain: in the game of politicians, there would definitely be returns. That's the rule of the game in Washington.

This was exactly why Pierre had gone to such lengths to orchestrate everything.

"With the President's support, none of these problems will be problems anymore…"

Seeing Pierre lost in thought, Truman couldn't help but feel delighted, the corners of his mouth lifting.

To have the President of the United States owe you a favor!

Such an opportunity was rare—something not everyone could get.

Without Truman's suggestion, this matter would never have fallen to Pierre; no one would have even thought of him.

Truman looked at Pierre's expression, feeling that he understood his good intentions, and was quite satisfied.

Although, admittedly, this favor was rather costly.

Of course, Pierre knew full well that this was an opportunity—a chance to have the President of the United States owe him a favor, something that didn't come often.

Wasn't that the reason he had orchestrated all of this?

But having just one president owe you isn't enough.

"Harry."

Pierre spoke.

"I don't care what he can offer. What matters is that this must benefit you."

That's how favors work!

It's best if both presidents owe you at the same time—that's the ideal scenario. Besides, that crippled old Roosevelt only has about a year left to live. The favor he owes? It's too short-lived.

It's best if he pays it back now!

It's still better to have the man in front of me owe me instead!

That's a favor worth nearly a decade!

That's almost two five-year plans!

"Pierre…"

Truman was taken aback at first, but quickly understood what the other meant. He nodded seriously and said,

"Thank you."

After that, the two of them chatted for a while longer, discussing topics of mutual interest—in reality, negotiating for benefits. After all, a favor is a favor, but reality is reality.

A favor worth hundreds of millions of dollars?

That's not something you get just by asking—it always comes at a price.

"All right, Pierre, next we can discuss some issues we both care about, how to ensure your interests."

"Of course. I think, first of all, I need…"

The two of them negotiated for nearly an hour, hammering out what demands should be made while the opportunity lasted. Then, Pierre got up to take his leave.

As he was heading out, he heard a beautiful melody. Walking over, he found Lautray playing the piano. Compared to her earlier nervousness, she was clearly much more relaxed now, her face radiant with a charming smile.

Watching the girl at the piano, Truman smiled and said,

"Pierre, Lautray is a girl with a lot of Eastern charm."

"I know."

Standing at the edge of the living room, he waited until the piece was finished. Amid applause from Truman and his wife, they chatted briefly before saying their goodbyes.

When Truman walked Pierre to his car, he shook his hand solemnly and said,

"Pierre, my friend, I will always be on your side."

This was a promise between friends.

In response, Pierre smiled and said,

"Harry, just like you said, we're friends!"

Friends!

With more friends, the road is easier to travel!

"You said dinner—was it at Truman's?"

After getting in the car, Lautray gave the man beside her a rather resentful look.

"That's right."

Pierre replied.

"It was just an ordinary dinner…"

"Ordinary, so ordinary…"

Lautray couldn't help but roll her eyes.

Having dinner with the President, and you call that ordinary… Sure, very ordinary.

"Is this kind of 'ordinary' dinner something kids from ordinary families like us get to attend?"

Her words left Pierre a bit helpless. In truth, inviting her had been a spur-of-the-moment decision.

Seeing him fall silent, Lautray thought for a moment and said,

"I just mean, for an occasion like this, I should at least have been able to prepare—at the very least, dress more formally. After all, it's the Vice President's home."

He wasn't Vice President yet, but he definitely would be in the future.

"Mm, that was my oversight."

Pierre nodded. It really was his oversight. At the time, he hadn't thought that much—he just needed someone to accompany him.

It could have been either Lautray or Trellaw.

"Your piano playing is excellent. You must have started young."

"Yes, my mother taught me when I was little. When I came to study in America, my relatives even hired a music teacher for me."

Lautray's answer made Pierre mutter inwardly.

Is this really a kid from an 'ordinary' family…

But just how "ordinary" her family was, Pierre didn't really care at the moment. His mind was occupied with the matters he'd just discussed with Truman in the study.

The credit could all go to the leader. What was left was the question of benefits.

How much benefit would he get from all this?

With his eyes closed, Pierre's fingers tapped lightly on his knee as he repeatedly weighed the pros and cons in his mind.

In truth, he hadn't lost anything at all.

It looked like he'd given the credit to the crippled Roosevelt, but in reality, the benefits he'd gained far exceeded his expectations.

First of all, for the upper echelons of every country, they would now know just how close he was to the President. He could even act as a "presidential proxy" to handle certain matters that official channels found inconvenient.

This kind of status might not seem like much, but in reality, it was a tiger's skin—a banner to wave, even if he did nothing else.

With this "tiger skin," on the issue of North Borneo, even if Qiu Pangzi needed something from the Americans, no matter how unwilling he was, he'd have to put up with it.

It could even be expected that before long, the British would come knocking to discuss the future of North Borneo. Unlike before, when he was powerless, now he had a big flag to wave.

Of course, that was just the benefit of reputation. Besides that, there was an even greater advantage.

Thinking of this, Pierre couldn't help but feel delighted, the corners of his mouth curling up nearly seventy degrees...

The girl driving stole a glance at him out of the corner of her eye, thinking—

Why are you so happy? Did you find some money?