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(A/N: Also everyone I have a new novel a Dragon Age Inquisition novel named "From Couch To The Inquisitor", be sure to check it out and give some power stone)
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The next day, the bright, mid morning Florida sun poured through the floor to ceiling windows of Sandro's luxurious penthouse apartment in Tampa. The sprawling residence overlooked the sparkling waters of the bay, decorated in minimalist, modern elegance. Sandro sat at the head of a massive, live edge walnut dining table that had been temporarily converted into a boardroom.
Sitting across from him were three elite attorneys representing one of the most prestigious corporate law firms in the country. To his left sat Marcus Sterling, an older, distinguished man with silver hair and decades of experience in corporate structuring. Next to him was David Vance, a sharp, aggressive tax specialist.
But Sandro's attention was primarily focused on the woman sitting directly across from him. Elena Rostova was a formidable legal mind in her late thirties, known for her ruthless efficiency and her specialization in philanthropic law and non profit shielding. She sat with perfect posture, a sleek silver pen resting over her leather bound notepad.
"Thank you all for flying down on such short notice," Sandro began, folding his hands on the table. "I will get straight to the point. I am establishing a new charity foundation. It will be called The Second Chance Foundation."
The three lawyers nodded, their pens moving in unison as they took preliminary notes.
"I want the legal procedures expedited," Sandro instructed, his tone carrying the firm, undeniable authority of a CEO. "I want the 501(c)(3) status fast tracked, and I need a board of committees structured. The primary purpose, vision, and mission of this foundation will be twofold. Phase one is aggressive, as it was immediate medical debt relief for families with children fighting critical illnesses. We step in, we negotiate the balances with the hospitals, and we clear the ledgers."
Elena looked up, her dark eyes sharp and assessing. "That is a highly commendable mission, Mr. Zhang, but negotiating medical debt at a private, individual level requires a massive administrative infrastructure. You are talking about dealing with hundreds of different healthcare networks and insurance providers."
"Then we hire an army of administrators," Sandro replied smoothly. "The funding is not an issue. Phase two will focus on long term infrastructure. I want to build and fund modern orphanages and welfare homes. State of the art facilities with real educational resources, mental health counselors, and security. No more overcrowded, underfunded group homes."
Marcus Sterling cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses.
"Mr. Zhang, the capital required for phase two alone is immense," Marcus noted gently. "Are you planning on soliciting outside donors, or will this be funded directly through Nexum Core and your personal wealth?"
"It will be funded directly by my personal trust," Sandro clarified. "It will operate under the broader umbrella of Nexum Core's philanthropic wing for administrative purposes, but the money comes from me. I want it completely separate from the corporate boardroom. No shareholders get a vote on who we help."
David Vance leaned forward, tapping his pen on his notepad.
"Legally, establishing the trust and the non profit status is straightforward, especially with your resources," David explained, his tone pragmatic. "We can draft the articles of incorporation by the end of the week. But we need to discuss the optics."
Sandro raised an eyebrow. "Optics?"
Elena took over the conversation, her voice calm but incredibly serious.
"You are the heir to Nexum Core, Mr. Zhang," Elena stated plainly. "Your family's empire holds unprecedented influence across technology, internet and media, and national infrastructure. Nexum Core has many allies, but it also has incredibly powerful enemies. Corporations you have outmaneuvered. Politicians who feel threatened by your market share. Competitors who are looking for any angle to tear you down."
Sandro leaned back in his chair, understanding exactly where she was going.
"The moment you inject tens of millions of dollars into a newly formed, privately controlled non profit," Elena warned, "your adversaries will not see a charity. They will see a vulnerability. They will leak stories to financial presses claiming that The Second Chance Foundation is a tax shelter. They will spread rumors that you are laundering money through fake hospital negotiations or using the welfare homes as a front for political lobbying."
"They will try to drag your name, and the foundation's name, through the mud," Marcus agreed grimly. "It happens to almost every billionaire who steps into independent philanthropy without a massive, pre existing bureaucratic shield."
Sandro didn't look worried. He offered a cold, knowing smile.
"I am well aware of the wolves circling the perimeter," Sandro said softly. "I deal with corporate assassins on a daily basis. Let them whisper to the press. Let them launch their little smear campaigns. If they want to accuse me of laundering money while I am paying for a child's chemotherapy, they are going to look like monsters when the ledgers are made public."
Sandro leaned forward, locking eyes with Elena.
"But I do not take risks with the things I care about," Sandro stated firmly. "That is why you are here. I need you to coordinate directly with the legal department at Nexum Core. Build a fortress around this foundation. Make the tax filings so transparent and so legally bulletproof that even the most aggressive federal auditor would give up in frustration. And coordinate with our public relations department to control the narrative from day one."
Elena nodded slowly, a look of deep professional respect crossing her features. She recognized that Sandro wasn't just throwing money at a problem, he was treating the charity with the same tactical ruthlessness he applied to his business acquisitions.
"We will build the fortress, Mr. Zhang," Elena promised, closing her notepad. "We will set up the independent auditing committees and begin headhunting trustworthy executives to manage the daily operations. We can have the foundational legal framework filed within five business days."
"Excellent," Sandro replied, standing up to signal the end of the meeting. "Get it done. I want this foundation operational and helping these kids as soon as humanly possible."
The three lawyers stood, shaking Sandro's hand before being escorted out of the penthouse by his private security.
As the week progressed, Sandro remained in Tampa, balancing his physical training for his upcoming title defenses with the relentless demands of his growing business empire.
Two days after the legal meeting, Sandro was in his private home gym, finishing a grueling session of heavy deadlifts, when his phone buzzed on the nearby bench. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with a towel and picked up the device.
The caller ID displayed the name of his most trusted business associate and manager, Hugo.
"Tell me some good news, Hugo," Sandro greeted, leaning against the weight rack and catching his breath.
"I only deliver the best, Sandro," Hugo's voice came through the speaker, crisp and energetic. "Let's start with the tech sector. The development teams have finalized the beta testing for the new short form video platform. The algorithm is outperforming every internal metric we set. TikTok will be ready to go live in a couple of months."
Sandro smiled, taking a long drink from his water bottle. In his previous life, he had seen exactly how a platform like TikTok could completely dominate global culture, dictate music trends, and monopolize the attention economy. By developing and launching it under the Nexum Core umbrella, he was positioning his empire to control the future of social media.
"That is excellent work," Sandro praised. "But keep a tight lid on the press releases. If they want to launch in two months, they have to coordinate the marketing strategy with me first. I want the rollout to be perfectly timed. We don't just drop it on the app store, we manufacture a cultural demand for it."
"Understood," Hugo replied smoothly. "I will lock down the marketing timelines and send them to your encrypted server by tonight. But that isn't the biggest news of the day."
Sandro raised an eyebrow, wiping his neck with the towel. "Go on."
"The acquisition is complete," Hugo announced, a clear note of triumph in his voice. "I just walked out of the final negotiation with the founders. Nexum Core has officially acquired thirty five percent of the voting shares in Netflix."
Sandro let out a low, satisfied whistle.
Getting a thirty five percent stake in Netflix at this critical juncture was a masterstroke. The streaming giant was currently transitioning away from its physical DVD mailing service and betting everything on its digital streaming infrastructure. They needed a massive, unprecedented influx of capital to secure global licensing rights and begin producing their own original content, a revolution that would permanently change the entertainment industry.
"Did they fight the valuation?" Sandro asked, walking out of the gym and heading toward his master bathroom.
"They tried," Hugo chuckled. "But they know the reality of the market. They need our financial backing to fund their expansion and build their proprietary streaming technology. In exchange for the capital injection, we didn't just get the shares. We secured three seats on their executive board. You now have a direct hand in steering the future of global media consumption."
"Beautifully executed, Hugo," Sandro said, a genuine sense of pride in his voice. "Thirty five percent gives us enough leverage to veto any future takeovers and guide their original programming strategies without taking on the daily operational liabilities. Send the finalized contracts over to the legal team for archiving."
"Will do," Hugo confirmed. "Enjoy the rest of your week, Sandro. And good luck in Europe."
"Thanks," Sandro replied, ending the call.
He set the phone down on the marble vanity, looking at his reflection in the mirror. The pieces of the puzzle were falling perfectly into place. Between the upcoming launch of TikTok, the massive stake in Netflix, the restructuring of Marvel Studios, and the creation of The Second Chance Foundation, his influence was expanding far beyond the wrestling ring. He was not just a champion, he was becoming an architect of the modern world.
Monday arrived with a radically different atmosphere.
The relentless grind of the WWE schedule had crossed the Atlantic Ocean. It was the crucial go home episode of Monday Night RAW before the highly anticipated Night of Champions pay per view, and the broadcast was taking place far outside the borders of the United States.
The show was broadcasting live from the massive Zénith de Toulouse arena in the historic city of Toulouse, France.
The decision to move three massive televised events, RAW, SmackDown, and a Big Four caliber pay per view, to a European market in the middle of the standard touring season had initially sent shockwaves through the WWE corporate offices. The logistical costs of flying the entire roster, the production crew, and the massive staging equipment across the ocean were astronomical.
Vince McMahon generally despised altering his domestic touring routes unless it was for a heavily subsidized stadium show.
But Vince McMahon didn't make this decision.
A few months prior, Sandro's father, Jack Zhang, the enigmatic and ruthlessly powerful patriarch of the Nexum Core empire, had received a lucrative proposition from several high ranking business contacts and government officials in France. They wanted to stimulate local economies and bring premium global entertainment to their markets.
Jack Zhang rarely interfered with Sandro's wrestling career. He viewed WWE as his son's personal business ground. But when Jack made a request, the earth moved.
Jack had simply picked up the phone, called Vince McMahon directly, and suggested that WWE hold their upcoming week of television and the Night of Champions event in France. Vince, fully aware that crossing the patriarch of Nexum Core was bad for WWE shares, and realizing that Jack's European contacts were offering site fees that would generate massive, unprecedented revenue for the company, had immediately agreed.
The result was an incredibly unique, rabid atmosphere.
European wrestling fans were legendary for their passion, and the French crowd inside the Zénith de Toulouse was no exception. They didn't just cheer and boo, they sang. Elaborate, rhythmic football chants echoed through the arena long before the cameras even started rolling.
As the broadcast officially went live, the pyrotechnics exploded, lighting up the unique, sprawling architecture of the venue. The camera panned over a sea of French flags and creative, hand painted signs.
The commentary team, stationed at ringside, had to practically scream into their headsets to be heard over the deafening noise.
"Bonjour, and welcome to a historic, international edition of Monday Night RAW!" Cole yelled, feeding off the incredible energy of the building. "We are coming to you live from the beautiful city of Toulouse, France! And what an unbelievable crowd we have on hand tonight!"
"This building is shaking, Michael!" Lawler cheered, looking around at the thousands of screaming fans. "The European fans, especially the French's tonight, have been waiting for a major televised event, and they are bringing an energy that is completely off the charts!"
"It is a global phenomenon!" JBL barked proudly, adjusting his suit jacket. "And let's be honest about why we are here! We aren't here because of the weather! We are in France because Nexum Core Co. commanded it! Sandro Zhang is a global superstar, and his family is bringing the greatest sports entertainment company in the world to the international stage!"
"We are just six days away from Night of Champions," Cole transitioned rapidly, keeping the broadcast moving. "A night where every single championship must be defended! And the landscape of this company is more volatile than it has ever been!"
"Sandro Zhang has a massive target on his back!" Lawler reminded the audience. "Bray Wyatt and the Wyatt Family have made it crystal clear that they want the gold, and Bray now wields the terrifying Mandible Claw!"
"And what about the United States Championship?!" Cole added. "Last week, Dolph Ziggler was seconds away from capturing the title, but the Scottish Psychopath, Drew McIntyre, destroyed both Ziggler and John Cena, stealing the championship belt and walking out of Madison Square Garden with it!"
"Drew McIntyre is a savage!" JBL laughed. "He took what was his! If Cena wants his belt back, he is going to have to go through hell to get it!"
The camera swept across the roaring French crowd once more, capturing the sheer magnitude of the international event. The stage was set for a chaotic, high stakes evening of television.
With the threat of the Wyatt Family lurking in the shadows, the women's division reaching a boiling point, and the God King reigning supreme over a company his family essentially controlled, the road to Night of Champions was destined to be paved with absolute destruction.
The sweeping camera shots of the Zénith de Toulouse showcased a crowd that was hungry, vocal, and fully engaged. The French fans were waving flags, singing localized wrestling anthems, and holding up signs written in a mix of French and English, creating a vibrant, international atmosphere that crackled with anticipation.
The first chord of the blaring, energetic horns of The Time is Now ripped through the stadium speakers, and the arena absolutely exploded.
Unlike the deeply polarized, dueling chants that usually followed John Cena in the United States, the international crowd was overwhelmingly unified in their support. There were no audible boos. The cheers were deafening.
Cena burst through the curtain, wearing his bright neon green t-shirt and matching baseball cap, holding the United States Championship firmly in his hand. He looked genuinely surprised and incredibly humbled by the sheer volume of the positive reaction. He stopped at the top of the ramp, giving his signature military salute to the crowd, before sprinting down the long steel walkway.
Cena slid under the bottom rope, popping up to his feet instantly. He walked to the center of the ring, unstrapping the heavy gold and leather belt, and raised it high above his head for the four corners of the arena, drawing another massive roar from the French fans.
Cena tossed his baseball cap into the front row and walked over to the ropes, requesting a microphone from a ringside crew member.
The music faded, leaving Cena alone in the center of the ring, surrounded by the roaring, unified audience. He waited patiently, a wide, genuine smile spreading across his face, letting the fans express their excitement.
"Toulouse, France!" Cena yelled, his voice echoing clearly through the building. "Bonsoir!"
The crowd roared in approval at the localized greeting.
"I have to say, the energy in this building tonight is absolutely unbelievable," Cena continued, pacing slowly, feeding off the electricity. "It is an honor and a privilege to be standing in this ring, in front of each and every one of you, holding this United States Championship."
Cena tapped the heavy gold plate of the title resting on his shoulder.
"Now, last week, I made a promise," Cena preached, looking out at the fans. "I promised that I was going to bring prestige back to this championship. I promised that I was going to be a fighting champion. And I backed that promise up by reopening the United States Championship Open Challenge right in the middle of Madison Square Garden."
The crowd cheered, fully supporting the initiative.
"And a man stepped up," Cena acknowledged, his tone turning serious and grounded. "Dolph Ziggler. A man who had just defeated one of the most dangerous men in this industry, Randy Orton. Ziggler stepped into the ring, and let me tell you something... Dolph Ziggler is the real deal. We went to war. We put on a match that pushed me to my absolute limit."
Cena stopped pacing, his grip tightening on the microphone.
"But we never got a finish," Cena stated, his voice rising in volume and passion. "Because a coward... a bitter, angry, sore loser named Drew McIntyre decided that if he couldn't have the spotlight, nobody could."
The crowd rained down heavy, hostile boos at the mention of the Scottish Psychopath.
"Drew McIntyre didn't attack us because he wanted a fight," Cena yelled, pointing a firm finger at the hard camera. "He attacked us because he is terrified! He attacked us from behind because he knows that in a fair fight, he can't beat me! He stole my and Ziggler's moment and walked out of the building like a loser!"
Cena tossed his microphone to his other hand, rolling his shoulders out.
"Well, Drew, you want a fight?" Cena challenged, his intensity reaching a fever pitch. "You want to prove that you are the monster you claim to be? Fine. This Sunday, at Night of Champions, I am putting this United States Championship on the line against you one more time."
The crowd exploded at the massive title match announcement. "But I am laying down a condition," Cena added quickly, holding up a single finger. "If you lose on Sunday... when you tap out in the middle of this ring... you are done. You can never challenge for the United States Championship again as long as I hold this title. Even if I issue an open challenge, your name is permanently crossed off the list."
_______________________________
Name: Alessandro Zhang
Age: 21 (2011)
Birthplace: Orlando, Florida, USA
Brand: WWE - RAW
Wrestling Style: Mixed Of All Styles
Faction: The Undisputed System
Championships History: 1x FCW Tag Team Champions, 1x FCW Florida Heavyweight Champion, 1x TNA World Heavyweight Champion, 1x TNA X Division Champion, 1x WWE United States Champion (1st - 376 days), 1x WWE Champion, & 1x World Heavyweight Champion
Other Achievements: 1x Andre the Giant Memorial Battle Royale Winner, 1x Mr. Money In The Bank, Youngest WWE Champion, PWI Top 500 (No.1) - 2010, 1x KOTR (2010), & Youngest World Heavyweight Champion
Wrestlemania Record: 2 - 0 Main Event: 1 - 0