Crisis and Resilience
Stopping the throng of reporters rushing towards the gates, Aria, who had only been employed for less than half a day, stepped out of the club alongside five or six assistants.
"Let them approach," Aria said with a composed tone, clearing her throat at the intersection.
The reporters surged forward like a wave, microphones thrusting into Aria's face like relentless iron brands.
However, the security team quickly intervened, forming an impenetrable human wall. These guards, chosen from the most elite members of a specialized training camp, were as physically capable as any special forces unit. Though their combat skills were not yet battle-hardened, holding back a group of reporters was child's play.
"Please calm down. I will address your questions. Now, I ask for silence," Aria commanded. The reporters, though begrudgingly, complied.
Scanning the group, Aria's sharp eyes settled on a Chicago Tribune journalist and gestured towards them. "Go ahead with your question."
"Thank you. Could you provide an update on Mr. Charlie Lee's condition? Why was he targeted by an assassin, and who inherits his property if the worst happens?" the reporter asked breathlessly, clearly eager to probe further.
"One question per reporter," Aria interrupted. "Before we proceed, let me introduce myself. My name is Aria, and I am the chief legal counsel for the Blue and White Chamber of Commerce. Additionally, let me make this clear: any defamatory, speculative, or offensive statements will be met with appropriate legal action on behalf of my employer."
She let her words sink in before continuing. "As for your question, Mr. Charlie Lee is doing well."
Ignoring the murmurs of disbelief among the crowd, Aria pointed to a journalist from The New York Times.
"Mr. Aria, can you comment on the source of Mr. Lee's wealth?" the reporter asked, skillfully sidestepping the immediate topic of the assassination.
Before this, few in the mainstream media had paid serious attention to Charlie Lee, a Chinese-American entrepreneur. Most dismissed him as a sensational figure in tabloid headlines. However, after his extravagant $20 million investment in Hollywood, people began to suspect that Lee might indeed be wealthy beyond imagination.
"The source of Mr. Lee's wealth is entirely legal and well-documented," Aria replied firmly. "For further clarification, I encourage you to contact the relevant authorities."
Next, a journalist from the Los Angeles Times spoke up. "Does Mr. Lee have a will in place?"
"Mr. Lee is in excellent spirits and actively receiving treatment," Aria replied curtly, her expression darkening. The reporters took note, interpreting her serious demeanor as confirmation of their grim speculations.
"Is this incident related to Luciano's mysterious death?" asked a reporter from the New York Post.
"Absolutely not," Aria shot back. "Mr. Lee is a warm, law-abiding, and honest businessman. To associate him with criminal elements like the mafia is utterly baseless."
The questions continued. A reporter from the Wall Street Journal posed a particularly provocative inquiry: "Is Mr. Charlie Lee's wealth connected to the recent stock market crash?"
The crowd erupted into murmurs, as this possibility suddenly seemed plausible.
"I have already addressed the matter of Mr. Lee's wealth. Let's move on," Aria said without faltering, signaling to the next journalist.
The last question came from a reporter representing the Washington Times : "What is the connection between Mr. Charlie Lee and the Capone Group?"
The mention of Capone caused another uproar. Yet Aria remained calm, repeating, "Mr. Lee is a law-abiding and kind American businessman. That will be all for today. Thank you."
Turning on her heel, she left swiftly, ignoring the reporters clamoring for more answers.
Inside the club, Aria wiped the sweat from her brow as she made her way to the second-floor ward. Two bodyguards stationed outside stepped aside to let her in. Inside, Charlie Lee lay propped against the bed, speaking softly to his trusted aide, Mike.
"Boss, the press conference is handled," Aria said respectfully.
Earlier, upon discovering Charlie alive and stable, Aria had been overjoyed. Losing such a high-paying job within hours of securing it had seemed like a real possibility. However, Charlie had tasked her with a challenging assignment: facing the relentless press.
"And don't forget," Charlie had instructed, "emphasize that I'm recovering well, but make sure your face looks grim enough to stir the pot."
After several rehearsals, Charlie had approved her performance.
"I trust this will lure certain individuals into action soon," Charlie said with a wry smile, adjusting the quilt to conceal the bandage on his chest.
"Boss, you shouldn't get too excited," Mike interjected from the sofa. "You've been awake for too long already."
Acknowledging the concern, Charlie waved Aria and Mike away, instructing them to keep the details of his condition confidential.
That night, Chicago was abuzz with speculation. More than a dozen top surgeons from the United Hospital of Chicago arrived at the club under heavy escort, fueling the rumors further.
"Did you hear? That Chinese guy, Charlie Lee, was shot and is now fighting for his life!"
"Really? I heard he's already awake."
"Impossible. Didn't you read the papers? It's just a PR stunt to calm everyone down."
As whispers swirled, sentiments ranged from morbid curiosity to outright disdain. The prevailing xenophobia of the time led some to cheer for Charlie's misfortune.
"Yellow monkeys like him deserve this," one onlooker sneered, reflecting the toxic social environment of the era.
Meanwhile, Club 22 was inundated with calls. Executives from ACE, PepsiCo, and other companies under Charlie's umbrella phoned to express concern. Prominent figures such as Hollywood Chamber of Commerce officials, Illinois Governor William Dever, and even representatives from national institutions reached out.
Amid the chaos, Ben, another trusted aide, handled call after call. By the time he finally set the phone down, his voice was hoarse, and his nerves were frayed.
In his exhaustion, Ben reflected on the extensive web of connections Charlie had built. From Hollywood to Wall Street, from governors to senators, Charlie's influence extended far beyond what many realized.
As the night wore on, even Major Dwight Eisenhower called to inquire about Charlie's condition. "Tell him I wish him a swift recovery," Eisenhower said before hanging up, leaving Ben awestruck.
When Ben finally returned home, his wife, Joanna, greeted him with curiosity. "What happened today?" she asked as she handed him a cup of tea.
"Work drama," Ben replied with a tired smile, unwilling to burden her with the details.
"Oh, by the way, a woman named Juliana called earlier. She said she needs to see you," Joanna mentioned casually.
Ben's brows furrowed, but he said nothing, already dreading what the next day might bring.
Amid the storm of speculation, Charlie Lee lay in his hospital bed, confident that his carefully orchestrated strategy would soon bear fruit. His adversaries would reveal themselves, and when they did, he would be ready.