In a sausage diner, the chef, holding a knife and a cigarette in his mouth, poked his head out and asked.
The boss was eating, sitting outside, and as soon as he turned his head, he saw the chef coming out. He coughed violently, and the food sprayed out of his nostrils.
"Are you crazy? Coming out with a knife? Get back, get back! That's Victor. If his bodyguards think you're up to something, they'll shoot you dead." The boss shoved him back.
The chef nodded hastily and dashed back to the kitchen.
But he still tiptoed inside, peeking at the scene outside.
Victor waved and smiled at the crowd, occasionally stopping to chat with someone.
If he came across someone adorable, he would even pick them up for a hug.
"Sir, is this your companion? Is she our future First Lady of Mexico?"
Suddenly, a daring little boy pointed at Belsaria, who was standing next to Victor, and loudly asked.
The onlookers all burst into good-natured laughter.
The American woman smiled as well, looking at Victor.
"Of course, she's my girlfriend. I love her," Victor replied.
"Then when will you propose?" the boy shouted, letting out a whistle and staring at him with eyes full of admiration.
"Right now, how about that?"
As he spoke, he pulled out a diamond ring from his pocket. Amidst the crowd's astonished gazes, he looked deeply into Belsaria's eyes and said, "My whole life I've been a staunch materialist. But for you, I dream of the next life. Will you marry me?"
The crowd erupted into an uproar~
"Oh my God, this is so moving. I'm going to cry." A burly Mexican man wiped his eyes, raised his hand, and shouted loudly.
Belsaria covered her mouth, tears streaming down her face, and nodded vigorously.
In an instant, the entire Chinatown resounded with deafening cheers!
The extent of Victor's popularity was on full display.
This news immediately made the front page of Mexican news outlets.
And in no time, it spread across the border to the United States, and then… to the entire world.
California. In a secluded Bohemian grove in Monte Rio.
This was private property, 1,100 hectares of land all owned by one organization.
Its notable members included former U.S. presidents like Nixon and Reagan. The famed "Manhattan Project" was conceptualized here.
The annual meeting, originally scheduled for July, had been moved up this year.
All for one purpose: to take down the Victor regime.
In the meeting venue, there was a spread of fine food and soft music playing. A group of men sat together, chatting.
"A public proposal turned wedding, causing a huge commotion. Rumsfeld, your granddaughter made the papers." A man with slicked-back hair walked over, holding a newspaper, and spoke to the old defense minister in a tone full of schadenfreude.
The Deputy Defense Minister, who was also originally handpicked by Old Bush to be Defense Minister, but the shifts in the political landscape had allowed Rumsfeld to rise instead, leaving Gates disgruntled.
The old Defense Minister, wearing glasses, raised an eyebrow and took the newspaper. On it, a photo clearly showed his granddaughter looking deeply moved.
The corner of his mouth twitched…
"Damned Victor!!" he cursed, crumpling the newspaper into a ball and throwing it to the ground.
"A man's mouth has only two purposes: to beguile women and to beguile the people. Apparently, he's succeeded at both," Robert Gates shrugged, pressing further as he stared at him. "Now that your granddaughter is marrying Victor… does she still belong to the Rumsfeld Family?"
"Robert!" someone from the side called out, signaling for him to shut up.
"Heh, I just think some people are unfit to attend the Bohemian Club. Who knows whether he's Mexican or American… Oh."
Before Robert Gates could finish, he was punched in the face.
The blow knocked him to the ground, breaking several teeth.
After all, the old defense minister had a military background, and his fists were solid.
"Shut your mouth, Robert. Matters concerning the Rumsfeld Family are none of your business." The old man glared, taking a deep breath, and said coldly, "I will disown her. From today onward, Belsaria is no longer part of our family."
Robert Gates clutched his bleeding mouth, his hands drenched in blood, mumbling indecipherable complaints. But when he met the old man's gaze, he fell silent out of fear.
"Enough!" came a stern voice.
Three figures stepped out of the room: Nixon, Reagan, and John Ellis Bush (Old Bush's brother).
"Are you here for a boxing match?"