American Medicine God: Starting by Inheriting a Pharmaceutical Company and Selling Medicine

Corleone Estate, Maryland.

The black-and-white world in Agent Miller's office seems like a phantom from another parallel universe.

Here, there is no cold rain, no broken whiskey bottles, only the golden flames leaping in the fireplace.

This was Victor's first Christmas dinner since returning to Vought Pharmaceuticals. It was also a meticulously planned "coronation ceremony"!

This place is home to some of the most powerful people in Washington: the chairman of the Senate Health Committee, senior advisors to the FDA, Pentagon procurement officials, and countless lobbyists and celebrities.

They may be tearing each other apart during the day for their own interests, but on this night, they all wear the mask of "civilization" and raise their glasses to exchange holiday greetings.

"I heard Johnson & Johnson is lobbying for that new antibiotic bill?" a silver-haired congressman asked casually as he cut his Wellington steak.

"Who knows?" An FDA consultant sitting across from him shrugged, forking a piece of beef smeared with black truffle sauce. "But I've heard that Water Pharmaceuticals has been investing heavily in new drug development lately. Especially that Alzheimer's treatment project, it's very promising."

"Oh?" The congressman's eyes lit up. "Then I'll have to get my wife's trust fund to keep an eye on Waters' stock."

Such conversations unfolded in every corner of the banquet hall. Power transactions were disguised as casual chatter, while inside information was silently passed around amidst the clinking of glasses.

Victor stood on the second-floor terrace, holding a glass of Bordeaux red wine, and did not rush down.

He wore a dark blue, custom-tailored suit that perfectly accentuated his tall, slender figure. But he didn't become the center of attention as usual.

He's not the main character tonight.

It's Sofia.

......

In the center of the banquet hall.

Sofia wore a scarlet silk evening gown, like a Sicilian rose blooming in the snow. It was an aggressive beauty, carrying the heat of the Mediterranean sun and a unique air of danger.

Several Washington socialites were surrounding her, their faces plastered with fake smiles.

"Oh, dear Sophia," said Margaret, the wife of a senator and a well-known socialite in Washington. "I heard you're from Sicily? That... place known for the Mafia and pizza?"

A soft, malicious chuckle came from the surroundings.

They had initially assumed this suddenly appearing "fiancée" was just an unsophisticated country girl, or a decorative figurehead for Victor. They were prepared to see her make a fool of herself, to watch her struggle with the complexities of Washington social etiquette.

Sofia was not angry.

She gently swirled the wine in her glass, her gaze sweeping over these self-important women as if they were a flock of noisy hens.

"Sicily isn't just about the Mafia and pizza, Madame Margaret," Sofia's voice was clear and elegant, with a pure Italian aristocratic accent, "but also about Archimedes' tombstone, the Norman palace, and one of the oldest universities in all of Europe."

She suddenly switched languages, speaking fluent French to the wife of an ambassador beside her: "I've heard you're very interested in Baroque architecture? If you have the chance to go to Palermo, you must see the churches there. The skill in perfectly blending Byzantine and Norman styles is unparalleled by any modern architecture."

The ambassador's wife paused for a moment, then her face lit up with delight: "Oh my God! Your French is even more fluent than that of a Parisian!"

Sofia smiled and replied, switching back to English, "In this world, there are some things that cannot be measured by money, such as history and lineage. Don't you agree, Mrs. Margaret?"

Margaret's smile froze on her face. Her proud so-called "Washington lineage" seemed pale and powerless in the face of a Sicilian with two thousand years of history.

This is not only a crushing victory in language talent, but also a crushing victory in aura.

Sofia didn't stop there. She turned around and walked towards a group of men who were talking not far away.

"Gentlemen," she raised her glass, "on this beautiful evening, besides enjoying the food and wine, we should not forget those who are shivering in the cold wind."

Victor watched this scene from upstairs, a slight smile playing on his lips.

This is his Sofia. She is no longer the girl praying in the convent.

She is the godmother, and the godfather's unquestionable other half of authority!

"Next is the charity auction."

Sofia walked onto a small stage, and the lights instantly focused on her. "All the proceeds tonight will be donated to the Strauss Employee Care Fund and Washington Children's Hospital."

The first item up for auction was an inexpensive antique fountain pen, which was said to have once belonged to one of the signatories of the Declaration of Independence.

Five thousand US dollars.

"Eight thousand."

Prices are rising steadily. For these privileged individuals, it's just a social game.

Ultimately, the pen was sold to a Department of Defense contractor for $20,000.

The second lot is a 19th-century landscape painting by an unknown artist, but with exquisite craftsmanship. The starting bid is $10,000.

"Twenty thousand."

Thirty thousand.

This time, there were slightly more bidders.

"One hundred thousand."

The entire audience erupted in uproar.

Sofia held up a sign and smiled as she looked at the shocked crowd below.

"This is just a small token of my appreciation," she said, "for the children who need help."

"That's 'artistic whitewashing,'" Saul said in a low voice, standing behind Victor, his tone full of admiration. "Using money to buy moral immunity. When her name is engraved on the wall of the children's hospital, no one will care whether the money came from the remainder of that 'compromise offer.'"

Victor nodded: "She learns very quickly."

"It's not just about learning, boss." Saul pushed up his glasses. "She's a natural. That ability to manipulate people, that composure on stage... she's practically a match made for you."

"Look at the way those people are looking at you," Thor continued, gesturing to the guests below the stage who were awestruck by Sophia's presence. "They're not just looking at a beautiful woman now, they're looking at a queen. They're beginning to realize that Water Pharmaceuticals is not just a money-making machine, but a family with a deep-rooted heritage and a moral aura."

"This is the effect we wanted." Victor took a sip of red wine. "In this circle, money is the least valuable thing. The real hard currency is 'influence' and 'reputation.' Sophia is helping us exchange money for these two things."

The auction continued. Led by Sophia, the atmosphere became increasingly frenzied. Senators, eager to impress the beauty, readily opened their wallets.

In just half an hour, more than two million US dollars were raised.

This will be a huge political asset. Tomorrow, the headlines in Washington will no longer be about the scandal of Vought Pharmaceuticals, but about the good deeds of this "angel from Sicily".

Those politicians who once avoided Vought Pharmaceuticals like the plague are now lining up to shake hands with Sofia. They witness the rise of a new power center, and at its core stands that dazzling woman on the stage.

The dinner was drawing to a close.

The guests gradually dispersed. The once bustling manor quieted down, leaving only the giant Christmas tree still twinkling with its lights.

Victor came down the stairs.

Sofia was standing in front of the fireplace, looking at a list of donors in her hand. Hearing footsteps, she turned around.

Their eyes met in mid-air.

Without a word, Victor went over and gently embraced her.

"Are you tired?" he asked.

"A little." Sofia rested her head on his chest, her voice languid. "Those women's perfumes were so overpowering. And their French accents sounded like chewing wax."

Victor smiled.

"You did a great job. Even better than I expected."

At that moment, several people appeared from the shadows in the hall.

Enzo, still wearing those sunglasses, stood at the door like a statue.

Saul, holding a glass of champagne, wore a sly smile.

The old man was sitting on the sofa in the corner, wiping a handgun that wasn't dusty.

Also present were security supervisor Barnway and public relations officer Katie. Katie was holding a notebook and quickly jotting something down, while Barnway was checking the security system on the window.

They gathered around, standing around Victor and Sophia.

This is the inner circle.

Victor released Sofia, took two glasses of wine from the waiter's tray, and handed one to Sofia.

"A toast to the family." Victor raised his glass.

"Respect the family," everyone said in unison.

At this moment, Wotech Pharmaceuticals was no longer just a publicly traded company. It had become a fortress, an independent kingdom armed to the teeth, with its own army, legal team, and public relations mouthpiece.

Here, Victor is the king, and Sophia is the queen. And these people are his Knights of the Round Table.

The old man remained seated there, holding a gun-cleaning cloth in his hand, his eyes deep and thoughtful.

"If our old friend Tomacino were alive, he would be very pleased to see this," the uncle said in Italian. "But he would also remind you, Victor, that the taller the tree, the more the wind will blow. The stronger we become, the more eyes will be watching us."

"Let them watch," Victor said coldly, "as long as they don't dare to make a move."

Enzo emerged from the shadows.

"If they make a move, I'll make them regret ever being born!"