A day later, Bella came to admire Heather's masterpiece and discovered she'd only written the title...
Heather looked exhausted, her elbows on the table as she propped up her chin with both hands in a thinking pose.
Max, on the other hand, was energetically trying to help his girlfriend. Writing about farm life meant understanding farms, right? He'd disassembled the tractor in the warehouse, only to discover at the end that he had absolutely no ability to reassemble the thing.
Bella offered some guidance: "Pack all this stuff up and box it. I can get Tony Stark to come fix our tractor for us."
Max was overjoyed: "Really?"
"Are you an idiot? Of course not! Like Stark has that kind of time."
After the teasing, Bella picked up Heather's title and was equally speechless.
Using this kind of title seemed a bit ahead of its time. Maybe it would work in twenty years...
"Why don't I just sell you the estate and the land? What do you think?"
Bella was exasperated by Heather's brilliant idea after a night of deep contemplation: "What would I do with it? My family's all in Los Angeles, I'm studying at Stanford—you want to sell me a house in Texas now?..."
Heather let out a heavy sigh. Of course she understood all this. She just had no other options.
Bella had been thinking about her situation too and now offered a suggestion: "You could use the land and property as collateral at a bank, get a loan, then look for investment projects you're interested in."
Growing up with various forms of soft abuse from her adoptive parents had made Heather's childhood and teenage years difficult. As an adult, she was very un-American in one respect: she hated owing people money.
With her explosive figure, making money would be incredibly easy, but she'd always held firm to her principles, wanting to prove herself.
She already owed Bella eighty thousand dollars. At least they were friends—that was manageable.
But owing the bank? If an investment failed, she'd be right back to being penniless.
Bella's words left Heather thinking for a long time. Even after they all returned to San Francisco, she still hadn't made up her mind.
The house wouldn't deteriorate from sitting empty. The three thousand acres could go unplanted for now—farming wouldn't make much money anyway.
She now owned a large property that seemed utterly useless while simultaneously owing a combined one hundred thousand dollars in debt to Bella and her second uncle. This trip to Texas had certainly made Heather's life more colorful.
On weekends, she'd spend a couple of days at her second uncle's place. Hobbs Sawyer had no children and gradually came to see her as his own daughter.
Bella's second book—the first volume of The Hunger Games—was officially published.
Random House gave her a 10% royalty, and the previous six-month settlement period from The Da Vinci Code had been reduced to quarterly settlements.
Public discussion of The Hunger Games was quite heated.
Positive opinions praised the book's technological feel and cautionary significance. It highlighted a strong female protagonist, with the heroine's struggle and wisdom navigating love, family, and life-or-death situations leaving a deep impression. Very feminist!
Negative opinions argued the book was too youth-oriented, seemingly pandering to young readers.
The entire book's tone dropped more than a notch from The Da Vinci Code. To highlight the female protagonist's image, several male characters were degraded to uselessness. The book also contained excessive product placement—fire cars, dresses, earrings, rings all described at length. This was basically a shopping catalog!
That's right! I am selling products! How much money does writing books make?
Bella dismissed the negative reviews. The fire car concept had been negotiated with Koenigsegg. The company, originally planning to spend two years in seclusion developing a new car, would cooperate with her to launch a brand-new model that didn't exist in the original timeline. The car would be called the Koenigsegg Flame.
Global sales: nine units.
This time the price wasn't 690,000 euros—Bella simply added a one in front of the original price. 1.69 million euros! Buy it or don't.
As for the women's clothing and accessories in the book, she'd written them according to Chanel's requirements, going from jewelry, cosmetics, and skincare to perfume, all the way to clothing and handbags. They'd paid a seven-figure advertising fee for this.
No Chanel in the future? How can you prove that? I say there is!
Bella had been working hard these past few days promoting the new book. Good sales for The Hunger Games would make advertising fees for volumes two and three more valuable.
The publisher arranged book signings. Although she found them troublesome, she agreed to participate.
Everything was for sales.
The signing locations were set in major cities—New York, Boston, Chicago, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Seattle. They'd hit them all. The book had quite a bit of advertising, true, but the quality was guaranteed...
Boston.
Boston was the most educated city in America, home to both Harvard University and MIT.
But few people knew that in Boston lies a neighborhood called Charlestown. Less than one square mile—about 2.5 square kilometers—the residents here took pride in being Charlestown natives. Their ancestors, generation after generation, had engaged in one profession: robbing banks!
Bank robbery had become an occupation here, passed down through the generations.
Grandfather gets arrested, father takes up the work. Father goes in, son inherits the position.
Official statistics showed that last year alone, Boston had 370 bank robbery incidents—averaging more than one per day. Ninety percent of the suspects came from the Charlestown district.
Local residents covered for each other, considering it a glorious tradition they intended to continue.
However, entering the new century, robbing banks had become increasingly difficult, and the cash hauls kept shrinking. With many old thieves retiring, the younger generation was trying to find new sources of income.
At that moment, in an ordinary residence, four young men were having a heated discussion.
"Heh-heh-heh, rob a book signing? Those old guys' standards are really dropping." The young man had his feet propped on the table, looking utterly arrogant.
The leader appeared much more composed. He pulled out a copy of The Hunger Games: Volume One that he'd just bought and tossed it into the cocky man's lap.
"Clint, know how much this book costs? Let me tell you—twenty-nine dollars! Add in signed copies of her old book in hardcover, some people will buy two or more books. You know how much that is?
If people just want to buy books without waiting in line for the author's signature, how many more books get sold? How much cash flows through? I heard they're also selling jewelry and accessories on-site, so that number goes up even more. Forty, fifty thousand—all possible. Still think it's too small?"
The other three men's eyes instantly lit up. Forget four or five hundred thousand—even just two hundred thousand would be totally worth pulling a job for!