Samantha meant well, but she hadn't really considered the practical situation...
Bella nervously glanced out the window. Nothing big would happen in Boston, would it?
Her adopted sister was a walking disaster magnet!
Perhaps Bella's nervous glances were too obvious—Natasha caught on, her eyes going wide: "Isabella Swan! Are you seriously saying you don't want me here?! I came all this way to help you, and that's the look you're giving me?"
Bella was genuinely surprised: "You've developed mind-reading abilities now? No way?"
Natasha: "...I want to hit you!... Oh, here—brought this especially for you."
Looking at the M9 pistol thrust in front of her, Bella instinctively glanced toward the dressing room door. Though bringing a handgun to a book signing seemed bizarre, she still tucked the gun into her bag. Just in case!
After their routine banter and teasing, work still needed to get done. Her adopted sister had always had good fashion sense. She helped with hair, makeup, then changing clothes and selecting accessories. After a little over two hours of fussing, she was finally ready.
Bella wore a light green sleeveless short dress with a black bow belt. Her arms, collarbones, and back were exposed to the air. On her feet were five-centimeter stilettos.
As her assistant, Natasha was basically responsible for serving tea, pouring water, and general maid work.
No choice—Mom's orders.
At 9:30 sharp, the signing opened at Boston Garden Arena.
Bella's book signing was the main event, with the publisher selling books as a side attraction. People had herd mentality—alone, they might not buy a book, but surrounded by an enthusiastic atmosphere, impulse purchases came too easily.
Chanel also arranged a small fashion show on-site, selling various clothing, handbags, perfume, and accessories in real time.
Whether it was Bella's The Hunger Games, the publisher, or Chanel, they all targeted young women. This demographic had incredible spending power. Watching others shop, young women found it hard to resist the buy-buy-buy impulse.
"Shallow..." Natasha disdained these little sales tricks, but after walking around the venue, she still secretly bought a bracelet...
"Thank you for your support! Thanks!"
"What should I write? 'Carol loves Shirley'? Okay! Okay!" Bella muttered to herself. Those seemed like two girls' names, right?
"'May Joanna and Catherine be together forever'? Okay, no problem!"
For an entire morning, Bella felt like a robot, constantly signing book pages.
Buy one book, get a signature. Sign the name, say thank you, done.
For people buying seven or eight books at once, she'd ask about their preferences and add a couple lines of blessing.
If someone bought more than ten books, she'd throw in a poster of Bella dressed as the Hunger Games protagonist—bow drawn, arrow nocked, gazing into the distance. Looking awesome!
For true hardcore buyers—fifty or more books at once—they got VIP treatment.
Beautiful posters were definitely included. If the VIP's appearance was passable, Bella would ask if they wanted a photo together. She'd sign the photo after it was developed.
From 9:30 until noon, she'd signed at least a thousand books! Total books sold exceeded five thousand.
Even with a constitution stronger than normal humans, after more than two hours of high-intensity signing, her wrist ached and felt numb. On the surface, she maintained her beautiful author persona, but she was actually exhausted.
At least Bella had a chair to sit in. Natasha, standing in high heels all morning while maintaining a smile like an idiot, now had eyes full of fatigue.
She could handle proper training, sparring, combat—but this book signing was unbearably boring! Every minute, every second was torture.
She couldn't help asking quietly: "After all that work this morning, how much money did you make?"
Mentioning this drained Bella's enthusiasm: "Probably ten or twenty thousand dollars?"
For ordinary people like Heather or Max, making ten thousand dollars in a morning would leave them ecstatic.
But for capable people like Bella and Natasha, ten thousand dollars really wasn't much.
"I may not have made much money, but I gained a lot."
Bella's eyes were extremely bright. Money was secondary. In one morning, she felt she'd cultivated over a hundred die-hard fans—all growth points for her psionic power.
Wanting people to praise her for life? Impossible. Even God's charm couldn't overcome humanity's fickle nature, let alone hers.
But as long as these die-hards maintained their praise for a year or two, the boost to her psionic abilities would be enough to elevate her to another tier. By her calculations, she'd continue developing first- and second-tier psionic magic while expanding her mental world. Depth couldn't be neglected either—she could start touching some third-tier psionic magic.
"Lunch is on you. I want French food." Natasha's tone brooked no argument.
After five seconds of thought, Bella nodded with difficulty: "...Fine."
Just as they were considering where to eat, the arena's back door suddenly burst open. Four figures in baggy nun's habits, wearing rubber masks and carrying automatic rifles, charged into the venue like maniacs.
"Nobody move!!"
"Put your hands up! Up!"
"Don't run! Don't run!"
Two of the robbers aimed their rifles at staff and customers. The other two rushed toward the cash register.
Random House and Chanel had contacted Boston Bank employees to count the book proceeds on-site. The bank would send an armored car to transport the money, depositing it into both parties' accounts. No one expected that during this lunch break interval, they'd be targeted by criminals.
All four robbers were male, dressed in nun's habits while brandishing automatic rifles—a striking image. At least Bella got a small shock. Who picked out these costumes? Had to admit, they looked badass!
But realizing these bastards were here to rob her drained her amusement.
"Don't do anything rash." Natasha whispered.
If the beautiful author pulled out an M9 now and shot all the robbers dead with perfect accuracy, that would be a bit over the top.
Bella nodded thoughtfully. She'd only get 10% of the proceeds anyway. Standing up for ten or twenty thousand dollars wouldn't be worth it.
"No calling the cops! No cell phones! Hands on your heads and squat! Down on the ground!" A robber pointed his rifle at them.
Bella and Natasha slowly crouched down.