Title: The Rise of Charlie Lee and the Dynamics of Power
"Boss, your dinner," Mike said, pulling out a packed meal from the operations bag. A pungent aroma of fish and spices wafted out, making him cough.
"Thank you," replied Charlie Lee, taking the spicy fried beef offal from Mike's hands. He ate heartily, sweat dripping from his forehead.
Managing operations daily while keeping the hospital room concealed wasn't easy, but time had made it routine. Meanwhile, those in the shadows grew bolder.
"Mayor David of Wilmington owes his position to the DuPont family," Ben reported, sitting by Charlie's hospital bed. "As for Congressman McCarthy of Massachusetts, he's linked to the Kennedy family, heirs to John F. Fitzgerald."
Charlie, recently recovered from a near-death experience, listened intently. "Why the Kennedy family?" he asked, his voice low and cautious.
The Kennedy name was infamous, not only for its presidential tragedy but also for the brothers' entanglement in Marilyn Monroe's mysterious demise.
"Joseph P. Kennedy, the father-in-law of Fitzgerald, redirected family resources to the Kennedys after retiring from politics. His only daughter ensured that alliance," Ben explained.
"Marry into power, and skip thirty years of struggle," Charlie quipped with a dry smile.
"So now, the DuPonts and the Kennedys are conspiring against me?" His tone turned icy.
"Boss, we could leverage Morgan. The DuPonts depend heavily on Morgan's financial network. For the Kennedys, perhaps Vice President Nick can mediate," Ben suggested.
As Charlie strategized, Herbert Hoover had just been elected the 31st U.S. President. But it wasn't Hoover who concerned Charlie—it was Nick Brandy, a seasoned New Jersey senator and now the Vice President-elect.
"Joseph Kennedy has political ambitions. He funded Roosevelt's successful campaign for New York City's mayorship. If Nick intervenes, we can sway their plans," Ben elaborated.
"Roosevelt… Why does that name sound familiar?" Charlie pondered. Memories of the Roosevelt Hotel and Hollywood connections began surfacing.
"Ah, the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel. Figures," Charlie murmured, smirking.
Ben raised an eyebrow, sensing Charlie's amusement. "Shall I proceed?"
"Go on," Charlie encouraged, wiping a bead of sweat from his temple.
"Let's host a party in New York," Charlie declared. "Celebrate Nick's election and my survival."
Preparations began in earnest. Meanwhile, Chicago remained on high alert following the recent assassination attempt on Charlie.
The Blue and White Chamber of Commerce donated $100,000 to the Chicago Police Department, ensuring no one could fault the ongoing manhunt. "Taxpayer complaints?" Charlie scoffed. "I'm the biggest taxpayer around—let them come for me."
In a country where 86% of people paid no taxes, public scrutiny was a minor inconvenience.
On January 10, Charlie made his first public appearance since the shooting. Ignoring the paparazzi's frenzy, he left the hospital surrounded by a convoy of 50 bodyguards.
"Ben, any leads on bulk transport vehicles? These scattered cars are impractical," Charlie mused.
"Currently, only the military has such vehicles," Ben replied.
"Contact Dwight. See if they're retiring any fleet," Charlie instructed.
The conversation shifted to the Star Theater project. "How's construction progressing?" Charlie asked, his eyes lighting up with excitement.
"Three thousand workers are on it. The main building should be complete by month's end," Ben reported.
Charlie had personally reviewed the Oscar Star Theater's design and was thrilled. The innovative architecture, featuring a half-open dome and echo wind tunnels, promised to revolutionize entertainment venues.
Inside, the hollowed-out "galactic dome" and the iconic "star cantilever" would house a central bronze statue of an Oscar winner. Equipped with cutting-edge mechanical systems, the venue could transform its ceiling into a kaleidoscope of colors during night events.
The theater's construction costs had stirred public outrage—$17 million was an astronomical figure for the time. Including state-of-the-art equipment, the total investment would exceed $25 million.
"I want the Star Theater to be more than a building—it should be a cultural landmark," Charlie said, envisioning the venue's global allure.
McDonald's expansion plans were also underway. "Focus on locations along major highways, community hubs, and youth gathering spots," Charlie directed.
As the car pulled into the airport, Charlie boarded a chartered plane with his entourage, heading for New York. Ben stayed back to manage operations at the think tank, ensuring everything ran smoothly in Charlie's absence.
Upon arriving in New York, Charlie and his team checked into the Ritz-Carlton, securing floors 9 through 12.
"Is the party ready?" Charlie asked the hotel manager.
"Yes, sir. Fresh seafood has been flown in and stored in pollutant-free seawater tanks for tonight's event," the manager replied.
Impressed by the preparation, Charlie dialed Nick Brandy. "Mr. Vice President-elect, I'm here at the hotel. Everything's secure—see you tonight."
Nick, cautious about any potential scandals before his inauguration, requested a discreet gathering. Charlie assured him that the event would remain dignified.
By 5:30 PM, Charlie personally greeted guests at the Ritz-Carlton's banquet hall. The room brimmed with power players: Wilmington's Mayor David, Congressman Michael Adams, Joseph P. Kennedy, New York Governor Roosevelt, and Charles Schwab, among others.
As the party unfolded, Charlie wasn't just celebrating his survival—he was asserting dominance. Behind the scenes, his carefully orchestrated moves ensured that both allies and adversaries understood his growing influence.
This was more than a gathering; it was a statement. Charlie Lee had risen from the shadows.