Chapter 36, Chapter 12: He was completely unprepared…
Chapter 12 He was completely unprepared
A month after Jeff Hope's case came to a close, CAME's on-demand show "Food Death" also officially came to an end.
The final episode's viewership numbers were repeatedly refreshed within a few days, almost matching the peak data of the premiere. The platform then released a message that preparations for the second season had already begun ahead of schedule.
Everything seemed just right, like a precisely calculated upward curve.
To mark the successful conclusion of the season, Milwaldton unveiled his celebration plan.
In mid-November, there will be a three-hour Thames River dinner cruise. The boats will set off slowly from Westminster at sunset, passing through the river surface shimmering with light and fireworks displays, and finally arriving at Canary Wharf late at night.
The dock is about 8 miles from central London and is easily accessible.
If needed, they will be given a special car to take them home.
The invitees were all 183 staff members of the entire program. Each person was allowed to bring one additional friend or family member.
The invitation was designed to be both elegant and restrained, like a pass that guaranteed the holder the right to be seen, envied, and talked about that night.
In fact, two weeks before the finale, CAME executives received non-public confirmation of the results for the "British Public Impact Media Awards" and the "Socially Responsible Film Awards".
Following that, the production team received a series of invitations to meet and communicate with various parties.
Even before the second season was officially scheduled, the production team leader received that seemingly restrained yet weighty official email.
"We hope your company can reserve time for the relevant personnel."
Generally speaking, programs involving governments, regulatory agencies, and policies are never the same as purely entertainment awards. They rarely create the drama of "live announcements" because the results themselves must be confirmed, digested, and tacitly accepted before they are announced.
"Food Heist" was initially seen in the industry as a gimmick show disguised as a bank robbery to attract attention.
Then, starting from the second episode, their true ambitions gradually became apparent.
The program focuses on the economic plans announced by the UK Chancellor of the Exchequer, as well as the series of social changes that have continued to unfold since Brexit, including the depreciation of the pound, inflation, and the systemic decline in the catering industry.
In the UK pub industry, for example, statistics show that an average of eight pubs closed down every week last year.
This quietness also reflects the long-term slump in the European catering industry as a whole.
The program not only discusses the survival issues of British restaurants and takeaway industries, but also, through expert participation, conveys to the audience in a relaxed yet insightful narrative how operators should cope with the real-world difficulties under new regulations on food safety, employment rights, and business management.
The affordable set menu strategy, the differentiated positioning targeting vegetarian and sustainable ingredients, and the immersive stage experience presented in episodes four, seven, and twelve offered the target audience entirely new ideas for restaurant management. The fact that the selected restaurants received such low scores is undoubtedly due to the unique creativity and perseverance of those "eccentric individuals." Their battles of wits with the experts, and the experts' attempts to break down their defenses, added considerable fun and highlights to the show.
It not only enlightens those in the industry, but also makes it fascinating for laypeople.
Therefore, while its award was both reasonable and unexpected, it was also surprising.
Even if the staff who received the invitation did not have a clear understanding of the award, the invitation itself gave them a sense of certainty.
After all, their CAME boss, Milwaukee, isn't the type to wait for success to happen before celebrating; he only starts capitalizing on it the moment success is confirmed.
Awards, public opinion, banquets, and media exposure are all gears in a whole publicity machine.
He rarely enjoys victory; he prefers to manage it.
The interior of the cabin was decorated in an almost extravagant manner.
The crystal chandelier extends along the top, reflecting excessively bright light, making every guest appear without shadow.
A team of Michelin-starred chefs operates on board, and molecular gastronomy slowly takes shape in transparent containers, like some kind of experiment for people to watch.
King crabs are placed on ice beds; black pebbles heat oysters, and steam rises carrying the aroma of the ingredients; white asparagus, truffles, and foie gras are cut into delicate and restrained portions for everyone to take.
The beverage area is always packed.
Juices and alcoholic beverages are displayed side by side, while craft beers, European lagers, whiskeys, and spirits are lined up in a row, their labels gleaming under the lights.
The bartender was surrounded by the crowd, his wrists flying, the sound of ice cubes hitting the glass was crisp and rapid, and cocktails were handed out one after another, their colors so vibrant they were almost unreal.
All this extravagance is asking, "Do you want to continue this kind of pleasure?"
Then it's a success!
Then go and achieve success!
Then keep striving and achieve success!
Five years ago, he went from being a British journalist to becoming an industry benchmark.
Today, Milwaukee is practically a living legend in the media industry.
Jenny carried her own camera the whole time, searching everywhere for her boss, Milverton.
The cabin was brightly lit and bustling with passengers, but Milford was nowhere to be seen.
Jenny was searching the entire ship for people, and as she searched, she lamented that the ship was too big and had too many recreational facilities, making it impossible to find anyone.
As she anxiously searched, her thoughts drifted back to two weeks prior. At that time, Milverton had been hospitalized for his involvement in a murder case. What few knew was that the incident had nearly cost him his life.
A week after the incident, Jenny learned from Moran's driver that Milverton had been poisoned and had spent a day and a night in the hospital having his stomach pumped.
The person who had his eye on him was Jeff Hope.
Jenny was unusually familiar with this surname because she had been collecting information for Milverton's biography. One of the reports that made Milverton famous mentioned a deceased person with this surname.
"And then what? Did the boss sue them?"
"He's been hanging out with this young man named Watson lately, and he seems to have completely forgotten about it," Moran's driver said.
Who is Watson?
"The author of 'Pink Studies' who recently wrote on his blog," said Moran, the driver.
"The one who got over 100,000 clicks in a week?" Jenny's eyes lit up. In this era where publicity and traffic reign supreme, young people who stand out naturally attract the attention of major media outlets and publishers. CAME was also actively contacting Watson, but there was still no response.
"Milwald's boss is too good!" Jenny couldn't help but exclaim.
Moran didn't know what was so special about this, he just shrugged. He only knew that when he picked Milwald up from school that day, Milwald had put the flowers Watson had given him on the back seat and asked Moran to drive them home. He himself walked side by side with Watson to the restaurant.
This scene completely deprived Albert of the opportunity to intervene, even though he might have been present.
Moran was also very distressed. This should have been an opportunity to get closer to Milverton because of his illness, but Watson beat him to it.
Watson was clearly a poor guy; the flowers he sent were the cheap kind.
Albert, on the other hand, prepared a large bouquet custom-made by a florist, wrapped in layers of high-quality cardboard, with eucalyptus leaves and lisianthus adorning the exotic camellias and tulips.
In the end, the bouquet had to be kept by them—Albert kept it in his room, where it would take two or three weeks to wither.
This repeatedly reminds them of the consequences of missing the opportunity.
Jenny was unaware of Moran's ulterior motives, but she still kept it in mind.
She has been following the related reports these days.
It turns out that Jeff Hope was the culprit behind the four mysterious suicides that have occurred over the past year.
In court, he readily admitted to the evidence presented by the police. However, considering his advanced-stage aneurysm, which had nearly ruptured on the day of his arrest, the court ordered him to be hospitalized for treatment. During his treatment, he was supervised by judicial personnel rather than being directly sent to court for further proceedings.
CAME's news department also reported on the matter, but without much exaggeration, only mentioning it briefly.
Jenny also probed Milwaldton's thoughts on the man who had once tried to kill him.
Milwald simply said, "I don't remember who he is."
"I am not interested in people who don't like me, and I am not willing to pay attention to them."
...
These memories made Jenny's heart clench.
She was well aware that even at such a glamorous dinner party, Milwaldton might face unseen dangers.
How could he just run around like that?
What if something else goes wrong?
Just as she was feeling upset, a low and languid singing voice came from the KTV room.
It turned out that seven or eight like-minded people were singing the English version of "Despacito". When it came to the climax of the original Spanish version, only instrumental music was left in the box. People were pushing each other to avoid making a fool of themselves.
But Milwaukee's voice rang out softly, deep and tinged with amusement. He switched between Spanish and English lyrics at will, tapping the rhythm lightly with his toes, leaning slightly against the sofa, yet it was as if the entire space revolved around him.
The air trembled slightly, and everyone's eyes were irresistibly drawn to it, their phones also being raised to record.
"Damn, she sings so well!" Moran couldn't help but curse, grabbing the microphone and wanting to challenge Milverton as well.
Milwald simply chuckled.
After the microphone was taken away, he lazily lay back on the sofa, his movements casual and nonchalant. He was intoxicated yet composed, blending into the group while seemingly controlling the rhythm of the entire room. The lively atmosphere never diminished; on the contrary, it gradually heated up.
Jenny was furious when she saw people even uploading videos of Milverton singing. She rushed in to stop them, saying, "Delete the video! That's Milverton, the boss!"
Everyone was startled, their faces completely dumbfounded.
Because it was he who invited them in to sing together.
Seeing that he looked young, everyone assumed he was an intern reporter or assistant.
After they realized what was happening, everyone jumped up from the sofa. Jenny was hoping they would be more reserved with Milford, so they could maintain their boss's authority.
"He must be drunk. I'll take him to the rest room. You guys can sing as you please."
As Jenny spoke, she walked towards Milford, shook his shoulder, and whispered in his ear, "Boss, don't sleep here, be careful not to catch a cold."
Milverton rolled over, ignoring her, which gave Jenny a bit of a headache.
After all, Milvolton is also 1.8 meters tall, and she was wearing high heels, so she couldn't lift Milvolton up at all.
Just as she was about to ask Moran for help, another tall figure approached her, his voice elegant, "Need any help?"
This is Albert.
“That would be wonderful.” Jenny was extremely grateful.
Albert stared at Milwaukee's face, suppressing his own irritation.
From the moment he boarded the ship with Moran, Milverton deliberately ignored his presence, and even showed no reaction to his usual attempts to provoke him.
Albert couldn't figure out what this attitude meant.
He harbored a suspicion that Milverton had seen him through the window across the street when he was murdered. Or perhaps, because Moriarty helped interfere with the evidence in the empty house, preventing the police from finding Jeff Hope in the dust, Milverton had some kind of deduction.
Or is it simply because Milverton has found someone more interesting, and he's trying to distance himself through passive-aggressive behavior?
After placing the person in the VIP lounge, Jenny went to get the hangover medicine, leaving Albert and Milwaukee alone.
The door shut out the noise from outside the ship.
The VIP lounge instantly transformed into an ecosphere of walnut wood, leather, and silence. Albert didn't immediately make any further moves. He first went to the small bar attached to the room, poured himself a small glass of water, and the sound of ice cubes falling into the glass was so clear it was almost violent.
Facing the only bed in the room, or rather, what at this moment resembled a display stand illuminated by lights, Albert finished the water in his glass.
He then put down the water glass without making a sound.
Albert also possessed pride and perseverance.
Although he was a secret agent and served Moriarty's plans, and understood that a lack of patience could ruin a grand scheme and that he needed to learn to be tolerant, he still retained the pride and dignity of a hereditary nobleman at heart.
Just as Milverton disregarded the goodwill shown to him on the ship, Albert also felt humiliated and angry.
Albert looked down at the sleeping and unsuspecting Milverton, and a strong impulse welled up inside him—
Smash him!
At least give him a good whack on the head.
He approached the bedside, but instead of bending down directly, he knelt on one knee on the mattress.
The bed wasn't as big as he'd imagined; with just one long leg bent at the knee and resting on the edge, he could easily get close to Milverton. The mattress beneath his knees made a slight creaking sound, amplifying the fact that the physical distance between them had vanished.
From this position, he could even grab Milvolton by the neck with one hand, rendering Milvolton completely incapable of resisting.
But Milwaukee was still able to sing, and Albert didn't dare to take the risk, unsure if Milwaukee might suddenly regain consciousness.
So Albert gently called his name and, just like Jenny had done, nudged his shoulder several times.
Milwald still did not respond.
Albert raised his arm, his shadow sweeping across Milverton's face like a judgment. At that moment, his tie was yanked off with such force that he had to brace himself against the bed with one hand, his forearm muscles tensing abruptly.
Their breaths were almost touching. Albert saw no trace of drunkenness in Milverton's gray eyes, only a clear and joyful expanse of ice.
"You can't rush into a sneak attack, Al."
Milverton's voice was low and hoarse with the smell of alcohol, but every word was clear.
Albert remained frozen in place, yet countless undercurrents surged within his calm eyes.
Even though he was just staring into Milvolton's eyes, the feeling of impending danger made him feel as if his body was watching Milvolton chuckle, watching his hand wrap around his tie, and the casual and provocative way his fingertips caressed the fabric.
"The tail is well hidden. But you know what? The best hunters don't chase after the tail... They wait for the tail to wrap itself up because of tension, fear, and anxiety."
This statement has a hidden meaning, but a wise person will stop there.
Albert had just opened his mouth to respond, trying to feign innocence.
After all, saying "hidden his tail well" means he hasn't been caught yet, right?
But as soon as Milton finished speaking, he loosened his tie.
The hand didn't land on the bed; instead, it clenched into a fist and moved upwards, about to brush against Albert's chin, but instead of applying force, it lightly punched his shoulder.
"You're not going to dodge? Then I'll let you off this time."
Albert's eyebrows rose in response.
When Jenny re-entered the room, Albert had already straightened his wrinkled collar and shirt, his movements clean and efficient, so that no one would notice what had just happened.
"I would appreciate your help, Mr. Albert."
"It's nothing." He smiled slightly, his tone indifferent. "I really enjoy doing these little things."
"Very interesting."
He added.
Jenny didn't know why, but she always felt that Albert was in an exceptionally good mood.
It seems he truly enjoys helping others.
Jenny looked at him and felt a sense of approval, thinking that she could ask him for help in the future.
Thinking this, Jenny placed the hangover medicine on the bedside table again, her gaze inadvertently sweeping across the carpet.
Milverton's suit jacket, which was originally placed at the foot of the bed, had somehow slipped to the floor.
The drunk boss was sleeping on his side, his neck exposed without any warning.
It looks like it's too easy to encounter danger.
Jenny couldn't help but sigh and helped cover him with the blanket.
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The author says: The remix of "Despacito" is quite nice; you can give it a listen if you're interested.
I'll randomly give away 20 small red envelopes! I'm a bit dizzy from staying up late writing this, so please let me know if there's anything I need to change. Thank you!!
P.S.: If I haven't asked for leave, it means I'm still writing. If I had asked for leave, then you don't need to wait anymore; I'm definitely sleeping now. Get some rest!! Thank you!!
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