"Boom," the entire hall instantly turned into a marketplace, with curses, exclamations, and gasps sounding off in rapid succession. Even Ambrosio, seated in the guest section, covered her mouth, eyes wide as she stared at William.
Although she had already heard that William's wealth exceeded $20 billion, the shock of him earning more than $110 million in just two days was far more overwhelming. The way she looked at him seemed as if she wanted to devour him whole.
The chairman of L Brand, seated next to William, was also staring at him in horror. Although William had said he wasn't interested in L Brand, he had also mentioned that it wasn't his decision to make. If William suddenly declared that he could guarantee L Brand could earn $1 billion annually, this chairman would be immediately ousted by the other shareholders.
This wasn't an exaggeration; even the chairman himself suddenly had this thought. Earning $1 billion a year would cause L Brand's market value to soar past $10 billion, and his own wealth would increase fivefold. If profits remained stable for two or three years, the market value could shoot up to $15 billion, even $20 billion.
"I've brought the devil into my company," the old man muttered softly.
With excellent hearing, William smiled and turned his head to smile at the old man. He tapped the microphone and, once the journalists quieted down, he shamelessly lied with a smile, "Although the company is too small to interest me, I do think it has a very bright future. If you trust my judgment, those interested might consider buying in."
"No problem." "I'll buy right after this ends," some of the reporters said, clearly tempted by William's success in the stock market.
"Thank you, thank you for your trust. I promise you won't regret this decision in a few years."
William smiled as he looked at the excited reporters. He knew exactly why he said that: to get, you have to give first. Saying a few flattering words cost nothing, but it could win the favor of L Brand's other shareholders and pave the way for future investments.
"Alright, calm down, folks," William said, tapping the microphone again. "If anyone's in a rush, feel free to leave."
Naturally, these seasoned journalists wouldn't act based on a single remark from William. With amused smiles, they waited another half minute before William joked, "There have been a lot of rumors about my lavish lifestyle these past two days."
"Ha ha ha," everyone burst into laughter, knowing exactly what he meant. The recent complaints about Ambrosio and the accusations of William's extravagant spending had all been stirred up by these very reporters. They chuckled to themselves, thinking, "We're having a hard time, so even a tycoon like William Devonshire shouldn't get off easy."
Covering his forehead in exasperation, William looked at the reporters. "I was originally planning to give some of my shares as a gift to a girl I care about, but seeing your reactions, I think I'll reconsider."
"That's right. If you did that, not only would you be scolded, but Miss Ambrosio would be criticized by everyone," someone suddenly called out loudly.
"Ha ha, exactly," the crowd echoed in agreement.
Ambrosio, however, gave William a big eye roll. She knew very well that William giving her shares was a pipe dream. His remarks were simply meant to squash any unrealistic ideas she might have and to appease the general public, who harbored grievances against him.
William was pleased to see that Ambrosio had some self-awareness. The real reason he wouldn't gift her any shares was that he didn't think their relationship was strong enough for him to willingly give away such a large fortune.
After all, Ambrosio wasn't the mother of his children yet. No matter how much he liked her, their relationship was still just that of boyfriend and girlfriend.
Even if she were his wife, it wouldn't be customary to give shares directly. Giving jewelry or property would be reasonable, but giving shares would be over the top.
If he did give her shares, as the value of those shares increased, people wouldn't praise him. Instead, they'd ridicule him for being an idiot, giving away billions of dollars' worth of shares to a woman who wasn't even his wife or the mother of his children. This would be a joke that people would laugh at for decades.
"The second reason is that your country's gift tax is just too high, only slightly lower than inheritance tax. To be honest, I'm not willing to give millions of dollars to your country's tax authorities. With that kind of money, I'd rather buy my girlfriend some clothes and jewelry or donate directly to those in need."
"Oh, right on, William! Better to do charity than give it to those vampires," someone shouted, and the crowd roared with laughter, with voices expressing dissatisfaction with U.S. taxes echoing through the hall.
"Bang bang bang," after the laughter died down, William tapped the microphone again and said with a smile, "Exactly. With that money, I'd rather do some charity."
"My God," someone exclaimed. Everyone knew the important announcement was coming, so the hall quickly fell silent without needing a prompt.
"The second thing I want to announce is the establishment of the Devonshire Family Foundation." After pausing for a moment, waiting for the murmurs to die down, William continued, "You all know I grew up in a single-parent family, so the only focus of this foundation's charity will be those from single-parent families caused by various circumstances."
"Can I interrupt for a moment, Mr. Devonshire?" A middle-aged reporter with stubble stood up excitedly, raising his hand. "I apologize for the interruption, but as a single father raising three children myself, I really hope to know whether your foundation will include single fathers like me."
"Hmm," this question caught William off guard. Scratching his head, he replied apologetically, "To be honest, I didn't initially consider supporting single fathers. In my mind, doing so might not be helping, but rather insulting them. Do you understand what I mean?"
"No! Equality between men and women—raising children doesn't depend on gender. Why can't your foundation support single fathers like me?"
"Alright." After a brief moment of internal grumbling, William asked, "Can I ask how old your children are?"
"Of course. My wife passed away three years ago. When she died, our youngest was only two, our oldest was seven, and we have another who is five."
As the man spoke, William pulled out his phone and tapped a few buttons, instructing Sunday to investigate the man and his children's background. "Okay, that's enough," William interrupted, waving his phone. "Do you mind if I display your children's situation on the screen behind me?"
The middle-aged man hesitated, then shook his head in confusion.
"Alright, then let's see if what you said is true. Sunday, go ahead."
"Yes, sir," a deep, resonant voice echoed throughout the hall.
Under the astonished gaze of everyone present, the projector automatically turned on, and a photo appeared on the screen.
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