A Bet to Get Something for Nothing

Sunset.

Golden evening light crept over the windowsill and fell across half of Anton's body.

Checking the time, it was time to get off work.

Anton was about to stand when the phone on his desk began buzzing and ringing brightly.

Ring, ring, ring!!

He picked it up and saw a familiar name displayed on the screen.

Tony Stark!

"Hm?"

Anton froze, and Tony Stark's mustached, unbearably arrogant face immediately surfaced in his mind, making him instinctively annoyed.

"Anton, don't tell me you forgot about tonight's party?"

The moment he answered, Tony Stark's frivolous, dissolute voice came through the phone.

"If you're willing to admit defeat now, I wouldn't mind showing you some mercy."

The mockery was unmistakable.

Especially coming from Tony Stark, a master of trash talk, it sounded even more sarcastic and grating.

Anton paused as a string of memories rapidly clarified the whole situation.

The original owner had been a rich young man who loved chasing women, taking baths, and flaunting his wealth. Though he was far beneath someone like Tony Stark, who already served as chairman of Stark Industries, their social circles overlapped considerably, so it was inevitable that they would run into each other.

At a party not long ago, the two had clashed and made a bet over picking up women.

Anton had lost, without any surprise.

Tony Stark had paved the way with money. Not only had he taken away the girl they had bet on, but he had also bought off every woman at the party—even the middle-aged cleaning lady who came to clean up afterward.

Incidentally, Anton had also lost his own date.

That had turned him into a laughingstock.

He had to admit that Tony Stark was not only a technological genius, but also a rare talent when it came to picking up women and "getting along with people."

Thus, the two had openly and covertly competed at several recent parties.

Anton lost every time, yet he refused to give up.

Tony found it entertaining.

According to some lackeys who had let it slip in private, Tony had already fallen in love with this utterly unequal contest and invested no small amount of effort into it.

Quite a few other rich second-generation heirs in New York's elite circles, whose status was similar to Anton's, had joined Tony in treating it as entertainment and had even started placing bets.

Clearly, tonight was time to open the betting pool again.

"Picking up women?"

Anton's heart stirred. He abruptly rose to his feet and rushed into the garage.

Vrooom!

A flashy Bugatti Veyron streaked down the street.

Its engine roared without pause, drawing envious looks from countless pedestrians.

He might not have been skilled at picking up women, but after digging through the original owner's memories, was that really called picking up women?

That was clearly called throwing money around!

Who didn't know how to throw money around?

No way, no way. Was there really someone who didn't know how to spend money?

"Is Anton not coming tonight? Damn it, what bad luck. I put a hundred thousand on him!"

"What the hell? You've got some nerve betting on Anton?"

"I've never bet on Anton to win!"

"Exactly!"

"Damn it, if I hadn't drawn Anton, do you think I'd have bet on him?"

Because Anton had never won even once, these people now used a lottery draw to place bets.

Whoever they drew was who they bet on.

A group of second-generation heirs stood around the pool, each with an arm around a female companion, chatting among themselves.

Tony Stark stood in the center of the crowd, surrounded by several beautiful women with stunning faces and fiery figures. His lecherous little eyes practically disappeared into slits.

Soon, Anton arrived.

He passed through the crowd and spotted this bunch of fair-weather friends.

"You finally made it!"

"I thought you didn't dare come!"

"Anton, I bet a hundred thousand on you today!"

The so-called friends greeted Anton one after another.

"Now that's what I call a brother."

Anton said to the last man, "I'll definitely make you a fortune today."

"Anton!"

Drawn by the commotion, Tony spotted his old rival at once.

Striding over with the swagger of someone who feared no one, he sneered. "Loser, have you figured out what position you'll be crying in under your blanket when you get home tonight?"

"Tony, don't get too carried away."

Anton glanced at him. "Do you really think that sexy little mustache of yours can attract girls?"

"Why wouldn't it?"

Tony spread his hands, looking innocent as he spoke with righteous conviction. "Why do you think I'd talk about love with pretty girls? For a billionaire like me, talking about love is an insult to my vast fortune!"

"I'm glad you know where you stand. To beautiful women, a spot as a magazine cover girl is more appealing than sleeping with a weakling like you."

Anton mocked.

"So what?"

Tony was completely unconcerned. "Does that matter?"

"Of course it matters, because I can offer them more."

Anton stared at the curvy blonde beside Tony and smiled. "Beautiful, I have a hundred-million-dollar project to discuss with you. Interested in being my leading lady?"

"That's it?"

Tony showed no sign of panic and looked at Anton with amusement. "You're trying to steal my girl? Please, you've used that move twelve times already. Haven't you figured out the secret to beating me yet?"

He had always been the one stealing from others. No one stole from him.

Of course, in his blind confidence, he had never worried that anyone could steal his girl.

"Sorry, you're very charming, but I already have a date!"

Sure enough, the blonde remained unmoved.

Clearly, under the current circumstances, compared to Tony, who loved the spotlight and was "famous throughout the land," Anton had some reputation in New York, but he was still nowhere near Tony Stark, who controlled Stark Industries.

The name Stark Industries was not merely popular throughout America.

As an arms-dealing giant,

Stark Industries wielded considerable influence across the world.

Compared to it, the wealth behind Anton was like the difference between an aristocratic clan and a small-town landowner.

Though both were nobles, there were still ranks among them.

"All right. You'll soon realize just how great an opportunity you missed."

Anton's expression did not change. Though he had been rejected, he remained brimming with confidence.

With the system in hand, the world was his.

It was already 2020. If a transmigrator wasn't handsome and confident, how could readers immerse themselves in the story?

"Wow, Anton, you look especially different today."

Tony studied Anton with interest. Compared to before, his old rival seemed to have gained something—an air about him that had changed.

"You seem very confident?"

Tony smiled. "Do you think you're more charming than me?"

Fortunately, Anton had not come today just to pick up women.

"Tony, we're both handsome guys. The only thing left to compare is capability." Anton said, "You know I just took over my family's Daily Bugle, but I'm not interested in running a newspaper..."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm planning to enter the entertainment industry and make movies."

"You want to be a director?"

Tony understood at once. His eyes widened as he looked Anton up and down.

He had never imagined that this guy, who had competed with him for so long, would come up with such an absurd idea.

"Wait, you must be trying to..."

Tony revealed a sleazy grin, convinced that he had seen through Anton.

He knew exactly what kind of person Anton was.

It was not as if he was completely useless, but he certainly had no outstanding talents apart from a lifestyle skill second only to Tony's—spending money to pick up women.

"None of your business what I'm trying to do!"

Anton rolled his eyes.

What he did not know was that his words had somehow perfectly echoed Tony's thoughts.

The two exchanged a glance.

Anton could clearly see a flicker of restless excitement in Tony's eyes.

This guy really loves making a spectacle of himself!

The thought flashed through Anton's mind as he smiled. "So, Tony Stark, interested in having some fun together?"

"How?"

Tony's expression did not change, but Anton had already seen that he was tempted.

As the saying went, the person who understood you best was often not your friend, but your opponent.

The original Anton had known Tony for quite some time and had repeatedly suffered at his hands, so naturally, he understood Tony's showboating, self-important personality very well.

"Invest a hundred million. We each put up half, and we bet on the box office."

Anton folded his arms and looked confidently at Tony Stark. "If it makes money, I win. If it loses, I'll be your lackey. I'll carry your bags and work like a beast behind you. I'll even call you Dad."

"Even though I know you're trying to scam me out of money, whatever!"

Tony burst out laughing. "It's only fifty million. I'll play with you, Anton. I look forward to you becoming my bag-carrying little brother."

Then, his tone suddenly shifted. "But I never make a losing deal!"

"Go on." Anton remained calm.

"One condition must be added!"

Tony looked Anton up and down. "The box office return rate has to exceed fifty percent. Otherwise, you still lose."

"No problem."

Anton agreed without hesitation, then asked, "What if I win?"

"If you win, all the profits from this movie, including the principal, are yours. I won't take a cent." Tony was full of confidence. "And I'll throw a party in Los Angeles in your name. All the girls will be yours!"

"Deal!"

Anton smiled.

.