Several years ago, when Isabella was still a child, she had starred in a film called The World's Best Voice.
The story's protagonist, Lily Zeller, had been born in the countryside.
Therefore, during production, the crew traveled to Edensor, one of Britain's most beautiful villages, to film several scenes.
Edensor was one of the estates belonging to the Duke of Devonshire and the Cavendish family.
It was also the estate with the greatest significance to the Cavendish family.
That was because St Peter's Church stood there.
Generations of Dukes of Devonshire and their families had been laid to rest there.
So—
the elderly man standing before Isabella was the twelfth Duke of Devonshire?
His given name was Peregrine?
And his surname was Cavendish?
Since Isabella had once filmed in a sacred place belonging to his family, it would have been strange if he did not recognize her!
Right?
Or rather, the filming application that the crew of The World's Best Voice had submitted to St Peter's Church had probably been presented to the head of the Cavendish family for final approval. Without his consent, how could they possibly have entered his family's estate to shoot a film?
Right?
That was why Isabella broke into a broad smile after hearing the old man's identity!
After all, she had once danced on his family's ancestral graves—
No, no, no—
She had once cooperated with his family in a friendly and respectful manner!
"Oh, Your Grace, your generosity left a deep impression on me." In an instant, Isabella extended her right hand in friendship.
She hoped that a polite response would conceal her embarrassment.
But the second after she extended her hand, she sensed that something was wrong.
Taking the initiative to shake hands when greeting someone seemed to be a custom among the barbarians on the American server. On the British server—
wasn't this inappropriate?
This—
The old man did not care. He shifted the umbrella from his right hand to his left and gently shook Isabella's hand with a smile. At the same time, he teased, "My generosity left a deep impression on you? But you clearly forgot who I was!"
"..."
Isabella's smile froze.
Her awkward expression made the old man smile even more broadly. As he released her hand, he shook his head and said, "All right.
"I won't tease you anymore.
"The person who allowed your crew to film there was my father.
"He passed away in 2004, so it is perfectly normal that neither you nor your sister recognizes me.
"At the time, I was only a marquess.
"The Marquess of Hartington.
"And because I loved my father deeply, my succession ceremony was not much of a ceremony at all."
"Oh, Your Grace, I'm sorry for bringing back such painful memories." Since the old man had offered her a way out, Isabella immediately took it.
"It's all right. Three years have already passed, and I have moved beyond my grief."
The old man shook his head slightly and brought the subject to an end.
Then he lifted his chin toward John Varley, who stood beside Isabella. "Did you come here at his invitation?"
"Yeah." Isabella nodded with a smile.
"Good, then let me guess. You invited Isa to watch the races because someone believes Time Warner plus Disney plus Google is greater than three?" The old man smiled at John Varley.
The moment those blunt words left his mouth, John Varley's expression became awkward.
He pursed his lips, uncertain how to answer the duke's question.
But—
the old man still paid no attention to such details!
He looked around and addressed the people nearby. "The race is about to begin. Why are all of you still standing here?
"You've already placed your bets, haven't you? Aren't you going to cheer for your choices?"
"Oh, Your Grace, we were waiting to go with you!"
"That's right, Your Grace, you'll be giving a speech before the race, won't you? We've been waiting to hear it!"
"Your Grace, the race begins in five minutes. After you?"
The old man's question was like a boulder dropped into calm water, producing countless ripples.
The tactful responses made his eyes crease with amusement. He shook his head as though everyone was being far too courteous, nodded toward Isabella and the others, shifted his umbrella back into his right hand, and strode out of the lounge at the head of the group.
The grand procession, resembling a lion king setting out with his pride, left Isabella feeling emotional.
"Power—"
truly was a wonderful thing.
Perhaps John Varley had noticed that Isabella had done no preparation whatsoever?
She did not even recognize a duke.
No—
Isabella had simply devoted herself entirely to promoting British culture abroad and had no time to learn about anything else!
Or perhaps John Varley had never forgotten that he was supposed to be Isabella's guide today.
Whatever the reason, as he quietly followed the group, he motioned for Isabella and Catherine to slow down.
At the back of the procession, he began whispering to them.
"Isa, Catherine, His Grace is actually a very kind man, so there's no need to be too nervous when speaking with him.
"And his sudden appearance may be because he learned that the two of you were here today.
"Of course, he did not come to the racecourse specifically because of you.
"At present, he is responsible for overseeing the entire Ascot Racecourse."
"..."
When a family had survived beneath the scrutiny of the secular world for several centuries, its influence could not be described in simple terms. Old aristocratic families like this would not seek out a newly minted billionaire merely because another one had appeared. Every encounter and every meeting was instead arranged through a variety of apparent coincidences.
And at present—
the Duke of Devonshire's most prominent public position was Her Majesty's Representative at Ascot.
Her Majesty's Representative at Ascot.
On the surface, the position made him the Queen's stable master.
But in reality—
the office associated with the position was located in St James's Palace.
It was the royal family's most important working palace at the time. All of the monarch's administrative functions were formally carried out from there, such as issuing credentials to British ambassadors posted abroad and receiving foreign heads of state visiting Britain.
As the saying went, an incomplete revolution was no revolution at all.
If the royal family were merely decorative mascots, there would not be families that had remained publicly powerful on Earth for more than a thousand years.
Returning to the point—
the Duke of Devonshire's role as stable master carried considerable power. The old lady loved horse racing and regularly appeared at Ascot Racecourse. Therefore, whenever she planned an outing, everyone who heard the news immediately began making calculations.
That behavior was easy to understand, right?
Who would not want to show their face and build a relationship with one of the highest-ranked people?
But not everyone was qualified to meet the players at the top of that leaderboard.
Therefore—
some form of screening had to exist.
And the Duke of Devonshire's position made him the barrier that determined who could appear before the old lady.
That was right.
The person with final approval over invitations to the Royal Enclosure, mentioned in the previous chapter, was the Duke of Devonshire.
Since the old man had the authority to decide who could meet the old lady in a "chaotic" public setting, he was effectively one of her closest confidants. Anyone doing that job first had to know whom she liked and whom she found irritating.
Otherwise, allowing the wrong person through would create an extremely awkward situation.
It was precisely because he possessed such extraordinary influence that—
wherever he stood was the true summit of the British server's pyramid!
Yes.
The visible world had social classes, and so did the hidden world.
And a person like this had taken the initiative to greet Isabella?
Isabella suspected there might be three reasons for the old man's behavior—
First, there was a strange connection between them.
Isabella had visited his family's sacred estate before she became successful.
That truly was—
an unexpected coincidence.
Second, Isabella's first move in this life had given her one of the strongest possible opening hands.
The person who had initially helped J. K. Rowling change the law so that Harry Potter could be filmed successfully in Britain was the Princess Royal.
And the Princess Royal—
was the old lady's favorite child.
Third, it might have been because—
"John, His Grace must control quite a few companies, correct?"
After taking her seat in the racecourse stands, Isabella gazed across the green track and asked casually, pretending that the question meant nothing. "Ascot Racecourse is important, but it cannot possibly occupy all of his attention, can it?"
"Oh, of course not. In addition to Ascot Racecourse, he also oversees Sotheby's."
John Varley understood what the young woman was asking and smiled. "He also controls five venture-capital firms.
"Of course, those companies are held by his foundation. They are not registered publicly under his name."
"..."
"..."
Any normal person who acquired a certain level of wealth would look for ways to increase its value.
Therefore, when a family had maintained its position for centuries without declining,
every generation of that family must have worked to expand its enormous fortune.
People like this had not paid attention to Isabella before mainly because her businesses had still been small.
That was simply the truth!
The land held by families was measured against the area of province-level administrative regions in China.
That was not an exaggeration!
Even according to public information, Bill Gates ranked only forty-third among the fifty largest private landowners in the United States.
Compared with true lords, the wealth in Isabella's hands was no more than an infant!
The reason such people were now paying attention to Isabella was that the most profitable business in the world was monopoly.
Especially when Isabella's monopoly concerned global public opinion,
even the United States would have to pay tribute to her.
Anyone unable to understand the logic needed only to examine how USAID had funded the BBC.
According to Musk's disclosure, the transaction worked like this:
To ensure that every part of the transaction remained legal, USAID did not transfer money directly to the BBC. Instead, it funded an independent charity that shared the BBC's name. After receiving the money, the charity then sponsored the BBC, supporting research and investigations in specific fields that USAID wanted the BBC to pursue.
And —
there was a profit margin built into the process.
So—
Ahem.
Once capital develops far enough under capitalism, it always ends up reaching directly into the national treasury for money.
Pharmaceutical capital works that way. Every government-subsidized insurance premium is effectively tribute.
The military-industrial complex works the same way. The size of the defense budget has nothing to do with actual national-defense needs. It is simply a matter of giving them however much they demand.
And the same is true of media, technology, and every other industry.
This was the real source of America's internal conflicts.
Even after conquering the world, the total pie was still limited. If you wanted an extra bite, someone else would have to stab you to death!
What?
Someone was asking about financial capital?
The thing that annoyed Old Trump the most was that he could not print money himself.
As for financial capital—
beginning in 2006, the Federal Reserve had gradually obscured data concerning time deposits over one hundred thousand dollars, offshore dollars, Treasury collateral in the shadow money market, term repurchase agreements, and similar instruments from its reports.
Anyone who had received a proper, systematic education in finance should understand what that meant.
And if such people insisted on pretending not to understand, then one could only point out that America's nonfarm payroll figure for January 2026 was one hundred thirty thousand, fifty-five thousand higher than its own most optimistic forecast of seventy-five thousand, with the overwhelming majority of that growth coming from the healthcare sector.
So—
a cold wave had created nearly one hundred thousand additional corpse collectors in North America?
Heh.
Honestly, when the social dynamics before you became excessively complicated, no normal person would remain interested in entertainment that revolved around networking. Therefore, even though the Shergar Cup was packed with excitement and the horses were racing energetically, Isabella spent most of her time leaning against her older sister and wearing a fake smile.
Aside from that, the thing she did most often was complain to Catherine—
"Oh, shit, I feel like I'm about to start smoking from the heat—"
After another race ended, Isabella reached up and adjusted the brim of her hat.
At that moment, she was extremely grateful that her stylist had chosen such a large hat.
Its enormous brim protected her from the unbearable sunlight.
Without it—
"Darling, I'm already smoking."
Catherine whispered back, "My boots are full of sweat!
"I swear, once I take them off, I'll be able to pour a whole puddle of water out of them!
"So don't drag me to another miserable event like this!
"No—
"Even if you get down on your knees and beg me, I'm not coming!"
"Haha." Catherine's resentful words made Isabella cover her mouth and laugh softly.
Just as Catherine had said, the main reason she had appeared at Ascot Racecourse today was that Isabella had insisted she come. Isabella thought attending an event alone would be unbearably boring.
And when Catherine received Isabella's invitation to "come with me," every part of her wanted to refuse.
Social occasions that obviously contained hidden motives were incredibly boring.
Especially when you had to remain focused during every single conversation. The mental energy they consumed—
Wow.
Just thinking about it was exhausting!
But Catherine had come in the end.
Because—
"All right, stop complaining. I swear you'll still come with me next time."
Isabella smiled and bumped her shoulder against her sister's.
"Why? Where is that confidence coming from?"
Catherine frowned slightly, feeling that the person before her thought far too highly of herself.
"Because you could never stand by and watch me suffer alone!" Isabella pouted. "Would you really hide in an air-conditioned room and enjoy yourself while your adorable, beautiful little sister gets roasted into a lump of charcoal?"
Her childish words made the corner of Catherine's mouth twitch.
She shook her head, no longer willing to entertain Isabella.
But a moment later, she still said, "I think you should consider what will happen after the races.
"Personally, I think that duke will probably come looking for you again."
"..."
Since everyone believed that today's invitation and networking had something to do with the power Isabella had recently displayed, the appearance of someone like the Duke of Devonshire meant that the conversation could not possibly end so casually. At least, that was what Catherine thought.
Therefore, in her view, the reason the Duke of Devonshire was now watching the races so attentively was that he intended to leave all the casual conversations and discussions arising from their "chance encounter" until afterward.
And—
Catherine was right.
As the day's races ended and the crowd began leaving, the Duke of Devonshire suddenly sent someone to summon them.
This left John Varley, who had wanted to invite the sisters to dinner, somewhat disappointed.
Nevertheless, he offered them his best wishes like a gentleman.
They could arrange dinner another day.
Isabella took her sister with her and followed the duke's servant to the royal estate beside the racecourse.
The three-hundred-year-old estate was certainly imposing.
But Isabella had no interest in admiring its magnificent Baroque architecture.
After they sat in the reception room for a short while, the Duke of Devonshire used the excuse that the estate had excellent horses worthy of a beautiful rider to send Catherine, who was dressed in her sharp riding outfit, away. Then he smiled at Isabella and asked, "Shall we talk about the internet?
"Technology?
"Silicon Valley?
"I may already be sixty-three years old, but I don't believe the times have left me behind."
His expected words made Isabella nod politely.
She could already see what he wanted.
For old-money families that had existed for centuries, the internet was not traditionally considered an ideal investment sector. Unlike earlier technologies, it could neither be seen nor touched. But—
what if the internet could influence the entire world?
Every player in the top division wanted to colonize humanity. Who could resist controlling the thoughts of every human being?
Right?
So—
"Okay, Your Grace—"
Isabella smiled and inclined her head as she began organizing her thoughts.
"Isa, you may call me Peregrine."
However, before Isabella could formally begin, the old man suddenly interrupted her.
"?"
The unexpected invitation to address him more casually surprised Isabella.
The old man smiled. "This is not a public occasion, so there's no need for so much ceremony. Besides, you don't understand any of it."
"..."
"Hahahaha!"
His bluntness made Isabella laugh.
Honestly, she truly did not understand the rules governing aristocratic interaction.
Therefore—
since the old man did not care, Isabella stopped pretending. "All right, Mr. Peregrine. Then let's begin with online media? Online social networking? I imagine that is what interests you—"
Isabella had left home at ten in the morning.
It was not until eight in the evening, after having dinner with the Duke of Devonshire, that she finally got into the car to return home.
Since many things could not be discussed in front of outsiders, Catherine quietly slipped into Isabella's bed that night and squeezed in beside her. "What did the two of you discuss after he sent me away?"
"Exactly what we expected. He's very interested in online media and online social networking."
"And then?" Catherine pressed. "Was that all?"
"How could it be?" Isabella rolled over, buried her head in her sister's arms, and said in a muffled voice, "After learning how online social networks operate and how I brought down Facebook this time, he asked me directly whether I planned to create something similar to replace it now that Facebook was gone."
"How did you answer?"
"I said it depended."
"Depended?"
"Mm. He obviously wants to invest. I don't see any problem with that. The only issue is that I still don't know what angle I should use to enter the online social-networking market—"
That was right.
No one could resist colonizing the thoughts of all humanity.
Therefore, after learning that combining online media and social networking with traditional media could generate such extraordinary power, the Duke of Devonshire wanted a voice in this rapidly changing world.
And that, honestly, was a good thing in Isabella's eyes.
After all, this world did not allow anyone to keep the entire meal for themselves.
Anyone who tried would immediately be attacked by everyone else.
So now, one of the top ten players on the British server and a loyal teammate of the number-one player had invited you to join his party?
Anyone who refused at a time like this had a brain made of shit. There was no question about that, right?
All you had to do was nod, and you would genuinely enter the highest-ranked division!
You would not have to fight through any of the preceding ranked matches!
And in the future, you would only need to focus on doing your own work!
Your teammates already knew you were weak!
So whenever you encountered a problem unrelated to developing the industry, all you had to do was cry as loudly as possible!
They would definitely beat up whoever had caused you trouble!
Since an opportunity to rise to the top in a single step had appeared before her,
Isabella naturally agreed.
However, even while agreeing, she did not give an absolute commitment.
She still did not know what kind of application she should create.
Facebook's model was excellent.
But after linking real-identity social networking with fraud during her attack on Facebook, she could no longer imitate Facebook and create similar software to occupy the ecological niche left behind by its disappearance.
Or rather, no one in the world could do that anymore.
And if she did not create a Facebook-like product—
"Isa! You have a call!"
Since the following day was Monday and filming on The Order of the Phoenix: Part Two had not yet finished, Isabella returned to the set after waking up.
During a break in filming, Catherine suddenly handed her the phone, which surprised her.
Catherine explained, "It's Valentine O'Connor.
"He says the negotiations with Take-Two are over."
The clear statement brought understanding to Isabella's face.
She took the new phone her sister had only replaced that afternoon and smiled. "So, Take-Two accepted all of our conditions?"