Bella's book signing in New York was a huge success, with friends from all sides showing their support.
Her rotund history teacher, Carl Elijah, had been helping organize everything. The crowd control wasn't just good—it was excellent! Forget gang members, even the usual punks who whistled at her were nowhere to be seen.
Bella's impression of New York kept improving. Who said New York was disaster-prone? Absolute slander!
The first stop was New York. After proving The Hunger Games had blockbuster potential, the second stop was set for Boston.
To someone from her previous life, Boston might not seem particularly famous, but many of America's elite class came from Boston. The area had a strong academic atmosphere—unlike New Yorkers with their single-minded pursuit of money or Washingtonians constantly shouting political slogans.
A larger elite class meant more book buyers.
Both Random House as publisher and Chanel selling perfume and cosmetics took the Boston signing very seriously.
Bella cared more about fame and praise. She only got 10% of signing revenue—how interested could she be? Like many famous authors, royalty income remained her primary revenue stream, but in the future, book operations and merchandise would be the real money-makers.
This joint venture selling products with Chanel was a trial run.
In this timeline, Chanel lacked Karl Lagerfeld, leaving the company's performance mediocre. Forget competing with giants like Louis Vuitton, Hermès, or Gucci—standing next to Dior, it was the little sister.
Chanel wasn't publicly traded; shares were entirely privately held. They rarely published financial reports, but Bella had used various methods to investigate the company's situation.
The company's equity was entirely in the hands of the Wertheimer brothers: 66-year-old Alain Wertheimer and 63-year-old Gérard Wertheimer, each holding 50%.
The two rarely appeared in public. When Chanel held major fashion shows, they'd sit in the fourth or fifth row. People unfamiliar with them might think these old men were just passersby.
Their cautious, calculating nature and disregard for public attention—focusing only on results—showed in everything they did.
The brothers had tremendous patience, but Chanel's development had been poor for years. As a fellow French fashion brand, Chanel was routinely crushed by Dior, with sales declining year after year.
Not being publicly traded meant no market value to speak of. Outsiders could only make brand valuations. Analysts believed the brand was becoming obsolete, worth at most 500 million euros, possibly even less. Rumor had it the Wertheimer brothers were considering selling shares, though this was never officially confirmed.
Actually buying the company wouldn't require that much money—though even at a discount, 300 million euros would be necessary.
Bella didn't have that kind of money, nor did she know how to elevate Chanel to its former heights. Fashion was too ephemeral. She didn't have Karl Lagerfeld's talent. This opportunity seemed like a trap—trying to catch it would likely mean falling in.
"Management has complained many times that the company should go public, but those two legendary shareholders just won't agree!"
Chanel's Los Angeles district sales manager complained to Bella. He was an extremely ordinary American middle-aged man. They'd connected through the Stanford alumni association—one needed to place ads, the other wanted to make money. Naturally, they hit it off.
Everyone in the 21st century was scrambling to go public and raise money. A company that refused to go public? Bella was an outsider in economics and couldn't figure out the old men's thinking. Whether they had some deeper strategy, she couldn't tell. From available intelligence, the two old men were stingy to the extreme.
While staff set up the venue, she chatted casually with the sales manager.
"Why won't they go public?" she asked.
The middle-aged man said with clear annoyance: "What else could it be? They're extremely protective of their control—terrified of dilution or losing even a cent."
The Wertheimer brothers held their equity in a death grip, refusing outside investment and offering no stock incentives to management.
Management could only draw salaries. With no enthusiasm for their work, talent hemorrhaged rapidly.
This was the main reason privately-held Chanel got crushed by publicly-traded Dior.
Bella thought about it. Was Chanel like this in the original timeline? Given Jewish miserliness, probably yes... but in that timeline, Chanel developed well. The Wertheimer brothers had sufficient connections in high places to resist pressure from all sides. Now the situation was different.
She had some interest in Chanel, but the timing wasn't right yet.
She offered the sales manager some consolation: "Well, we're all working for someone. Look at me—I'm working for you guys too."
The sales manager shook his head with a light laugh: "Your income is way more than mine..."
After some bland small talk, Bella went to change clothes. The outfits were all provided by Chanel—also part of the advertising.
The sales manager busied himself with venue setup. Though there were no stock incentives, commission still existed. Every little bit counted.
Bella sat in the dressing room spacing out while a somewhat neurotic hairstylist worked on her hair. She idly flipped through a fashion magazine.
Her mind was on designers. Without an excellent designer, even if Chanel were acquired, it would remain a second-tier brand.
She calculated her assets, wondering how much she could get if she used everything as collateral. The result showed a huge gap.
Lost in thought, her eyelids grew heavy. She closed her eyes slightly to rest.
The clothes for hairstyling were loose. Drowsily, she felt a hand touching her neck, then following along her collarbone, moving downward.
How dare they! Who had the audacity?
She grabbed the hand, planning an over-the-shoulder throw, followed by breaking the hand, then the neck.
But touching it, she realized something was wrong. She was holding a woman's hand. She felt it twice—the palm was smooth, fingers round and soft, yet containing strength. Grasping the palm, she whipped her head around to meet Natasha's teasing gaze.
"Let go! Why so rough?" Natasha's eyes held a smile as she glanced down Bella's loose neckline.
Realizing the misunderstanding, Bella snorted. This adopted sister actually dared take advantage of her? She pulled her neckline tighter and asked curiously: "What are you doing here?"
Natasha wore a very professional business suit, blonde hair falling over her shoulders, complete with watch and necklace.
Complete career woman attire.
"My mom heard you were doing a signing and made me come help. Carry your bag, hand you water, stuff like that." Natasha's mouth twisted, looking like she'd been drafted.