Stark's Downfall

Before Skye came in for her interview, Mike's management strategy consisted of two blades.

The first blade: outsourcing.

Housekeeping and cleaning were outsourced, repairs were outsourced... There was no other choice. He was the boss and the only employee; even if he worked himself to death, he could not finish everything.

He handled the finances himself, but the books he kept could drive a PricewaterhouseCoopers accountant insane.

As a result, operating costs remained high, and the income basically all went toward covering them. Fortunately, these properties were windfalls. As long as they could generate enough cash to sustain themselves, that was fine.

The second blade: solve problems only when they arose. If he had not encountered one yet, he pretended it did not exist. There were no rules or procedures.

It saved trouble in the short term, but tenants had countless complaints and grievances.

Over time, the accumulated problems would inevitably explode.

He lacked experience, so he made up for it with skill. Skye's arrival had solved Mike's urgent problem, and she was even better than he had imagined.

It had been half a month since Skye started working. She had gone from awkward and inexperienced to gradually settling into a rhythm.

Mike briefly checked the accounts and found that expenses had dropped by a third.

Skye was highly skilled in network technology, especially hacking, but she was not a shut-in tech geek. On the contrary, she was good at communicating with all kinds of people—enthusiastic, sunny, practically the ultimate goddess of Hacker Street.

Mike and Skye got along comfortably and quickly became familiar enough to trade dirty jokes. Of course, aside from taking a little verbal advantage, Mike had always behaved himself around Skye.

This needed to be said—being a playboy was physically demanding work. It was about the body, not the heart. Once the clothes went back on, they went their separate ways and wished each other well.

A rabbit did not eat the grass by its own burrow. That was basic professional ethics for every playboy. They worked and lived in the same place, saw each other all the time, and sharing experience was perfectly normal.

"I really am the purest stream among playboys."

Mike muttered as he slipped his arms into his shirt.

"What are you talking about?"

The blonde woman wrapped her arms around Mike from behind.

"Nothing. Just work stuff. Aren't you going to sleep a little longer? It's rare to have a weekend."

"No, I'm meeting my sister. I need to go home first, shower, and change. If she finds out I didn't go home last night, she'll definitely nag me." Tracy complained, though her tone was affectionate. "Ever since she became a private investigator, it feels like I can't hide anything from her. What a headache."

A private investigator... was she a competitor?

Tracy moved in front of Mike and buttoned his shirt one button at a time.

"You look so sexy in a white shirt."

"How sexy?"

Tracy did not answer. She merely gazed at Mike with moist, affectionate eyes.

Mike got a little hard in respectful response.

"Didn't you say you were going home to shower and change?"

"I have to wash and change anyway. Might as well get some exercise first."

Half an hour later, Mike put on a T-shirt. Several buttons had been torn off his shirt by the impatient Tracy.

"I'll walk you down."

"Thanks."

"Scumbag."

Watching Mike put Tracy into a taxi, Skye slammed down the Enter key.

In just half a month, at least five different women had entered and left Mike's bedroom.

Skye glared at Mike. He rubbed his nose and put on an innocent act.

Mike rubbed Chloe's head and asked, "Why are you spacing out? Have you finished your homework?"

Chloe was still somewhat unused to such intimate gestures. She shrank back slightly and replied in a voice as soft as a mosquito's, "I finished it."

Skye said unhappily, "Don't bully Chloe!"

Mike cried injustice. "How am I bullying her? I just asked about her homework. That's concern, understand? Concern."

Skye complained, "Chloe has way too much homework."

"Too much?" Mike's mouth twitched.

You must have some misunderstanding about what "too much" meant. Elementary school kids in China not only had more than ten times that amount of homework, they also had tutoring classes, learned instruments...

"Isn't it too much?" Skye shot Mike a sidelong glance.

"Fine, you're pretty, so you're right. Happy now?" Mike raised both hands in surrender.

Skye narrowed her eyes, a dangerous gleam flashing within them. "Prettier than that woman just now..."

"Tracy Walker."

"Prettier than Tracy?"

"How could that be? How could she possibly be as... ugly as you!"

Smack!

Mike had expected it and sidestepped Skye's instant-noodle attack.

Chloe pleaded pitifully, "Boss, Sister Skye... could you two please not fight?"

"So cute!" Mike could not resist pinching Chloe's left cheek. "Eh? You've filled out a little. It feels better to pinch now."

"Really?" Skye's eyes lit up as she gently pinched Chloe's right cheek. "It really does feel better."

Chloe: (ω).

After bickering with Skye for a while, Mike half-reclined in his exclusive beach chair.

The moment he lay down, Mike abruptly sat up. He used too much force, causing the beach chair to tip over. The sound startled Chloe.

"Sorry, sorry." Mike hurriedly reassured Chloe, then stared intently at the television screen without blinking.

"According to an unnamed military source, a military convoy in Kunar Province, Afghanistan, was attacked by unidentified armed individuals, resulting in the deaths of multiple soldiers. Reliable sources indicate that Tony Stark, chairman of the famous Stark Group, was among the convoy and is suspected of having been kidnapped."

The reporters thrust their microphones forward as though they wanted to shove them down Colonel James Rhodey's throat. He looked exhausted and dejected, pushing the microphones away while fobbing off the reporters with, "Military secret. No comment."

Mike remembered that around thirty-six hours after attending the annual Pinnacle Award ceremony, Tony Stark was attacked while returning to Bagram Air Base in Parwan Province.

The Ten Rings had attacked the American military convoy without knowing Tony Stark was in it. After discovering the injured Tony Stark, they kidnapped him and treated his wounds.

Their leader, Raza, felt he had been deceived and was furious. His anger could not be soothed without more money. During negotiations with their employer Obadiah, Raza suddenly had a brainwave: "No. My rice can't feed this man for free."

So he forced Tony Stark to build a Jericho Missile.

The result—

In a crude cave, Tony Stark used a pile of scrap to build the Mark I and beat a group of terrorists until they pissed themselves.

That was badass as hell!

This had originally been Iron Man's origin story. The only question was whether it would undergo drastic changes because of Mike's Butterfly Effect.

For example, Stark might not be attacked at all, or he might die outright during the attack.

Who knew? Anything was possible.

After the Pinnacle Award ceremony, Mike decided to take a gamble. He put up 120,000 US dollars and used tenfold leverage to short Stark Group.

Take a gamble, turn a bicycle into a motorcycle.

He had bet right!

The instant Tony Stark went missing, the group's stock plummeted 5.23 percent.

He made a small profit of several tens of thousands of US dollars. The key was that the system did not take a cut!

"Caw, caw, caw..." Mike laughed loudly.

As for warning Tony Stark in advance... Mike had never considered it. Leaving aside whether he could even meet Stark, what would he say if he did?

Skye blinked. "Do you have a grudge against Tony Stark?"

"No." Mike denied it.

"If not, why are you so happy that he got kidnapped?" Skye did not believe him.

"Am I happy?"

"You're laughing like a goose. If you don't believe me, ask Old Earl and Chloe."

"Mm!" ×2.

One old and one young nodded in unison.

Mike said righteously, "Oh, Tony Stark—an evil capitalist, an arms dealer who peddles war. He would deserve it even if he died, let alone got kidnapped."

Skye rolled her eyes and sneered. "Heh. Friendly reminder: you're a capitalist too."

"No, I'm not."

Mike denied it, inwardly desolate. Ninety percent of those properties belong to the system. I'm just a poor worker.