I am a necromancer, and I absolutely love America.

Chapter 130 The Saintess and the Yellow Peril (11K long chapter, please vote and subscribe)

As soon as Richard left, Chloe, who also worked part-time, began packing her things to leave.

Tiffany was having lunch with a group of full-time employees around a plastic table, but her eyes were fixed on Chloe.

Although her expression was disdainful, she was secretly envious.

Chloe is a white woman with a nursing degree from a reputable university and is saving up to take the registered nurse exam.

The plasma bank was just a transition for her; sooner or later she would put on a real nurse's uniform and stand in a real hospital.

And what about me? I might have to struggle for the rest of my life in this quagmire of a blood donation center filled with the smells of disinfectant and bleach!

FXXK!

Damn white bitch!

Chloe closed the locker door, slung her canvas bag over her shoulder, and casually waved to the others: "Bye-bye."

A few girls looked up and casually said "See you tomorrow," but most people ignored them.

Chloe didn't care.

She pushed open the door to the lounge, walked out, and happened to see Richard walk into the parking lot next door.

Buying a car when you're so poor is just too vain.

Chloe didn't think much of it; she still had a heavy academic workload.

"Big brother, help me!"

A scream came through the receiver. Richard moved the phone away slightly, slowing the car as he asked, "What happened? Aren't you already the vice dean?"

Daniel took a deep breath and said in a voice as if he had just crawled out of a pile of corpses, "The new dean is called Eugene. Eugene Jaeger."

"Your last name is Jaeger?"

"Yes! He's the son of State Attorney General Corbyn-Yager! His own son! F***ing!"

The state attorney general's son became the chief justice of Queens? Richard suddenly understood everything.

No wonder Corbyn-Yager stirred up a storm at Queens Hospital; this was no ordinary anti-corruption operation.

This is a demolition!

Doesn't the state inspector general know about the shady dealings at the hospitals?

The warehouse clerk who whistleblower was just a pitiful scapegoat. Eugene needed a position befitting his status, and the whistleblower conveniently handed the knife to Corbin.

Corbyn then cleared out the entire hospital's senior management, solely to make room for his son in a clean director's office!

Daniel was filled with fear: "These bigwigs are terrifying! Just to get Eugene a director position, they sent the entire hospital's top management to prison!"

"FXXK! Based on the current investigation, at least fifteen people will be in federal prison, and more than thirty will face various disciplinary actions. Their professional records will be stained for life, and they'll never be able to get promoted again! Nearly fifty people are finished!"

"Fifty people! Just to make room for Eugene!"

Daniel was terrified; his voice was trembling.

Such a ruthless guy, and now he's got his eyes on me!

Richard understood what Daniel meant.

All those who were interviewed and investigated are finished.

Doctors' salaries are very stable, so their previous standard of living was based on this stable income—the size of their houses, the price of their cars, the quality of their children's private schools...

What now?

Even if they escape jail time, the illicit income will be forced to be returned, and the IRS will investigate tax issues, since this illicit money was never taxed!

With back taxes and fines, each person will lose at least 7% of their assets.

They either have to quickly sell their properties and cars and move to smaller, cheaper places, or they hope to get back to their original jobs as soon as possible and use their savings to get by.

But it's impossible to withstand it.

Other resident physicians, or less experienced doctors transferred from other hospitals, will be eyeing the positions these highly experienced doctors hold, and will keep tearing at this wound for the next few years, using various methods to pry them off so they can sit on it themselves.

Therefore, if they hesitate even slightly and are unwilling to give up their current standard of living, they will be completely doomed.

Within the next five to six years, at least thirty of these fifty people will go from being decent middle-class to homeless.

Those guys in prison have stable food and stable housing; they've only lost their freedom, so they're not necessarily worse off.

For a moment, Richard couldn't figure out whether the people inside were more comfortable or the group outside.

"What should I do now? I can't run away. Eugene can just hand my case over to Corbyn. If I resign today, I'll have to go to the federal prosecutor's office to explain myself tomorrow, and I'll be in jail a week later. If I don't run away, then I'll have to do it Eugene's way, and that's even worse!"

Eugene said it casually, "Just a little money."

That MF is my money!

Daniel was filled with conflicting emotions.

It was only Christina who stepped in; otherwise, he estimated that he would have had to give away all his assets, sell his house and car, and move to a small apartment to recover.

Moreover, the prerequisite for recovering is that he retains his medical license so that he can assist Richard in performing surgeries, earn more money, and make up for the losses.

Others don't have this opportunity.

Daniel was filled with gratitude for Christina and Richard.

Richard paused for a few seconds, then said, "You should agree to him first. Anyway, the clinic won't be open for the next month or two. Once the OMIG scandal has died down, those who should be convicted have been convicted, and those who should return have returned, then we can get back to work. Christina estimates it will take at least a month, and three months is normal."

"During this time, you stay with Eugene and pretend to work with him. Use Eugene's resources to expand the plastic surgery clinic. He won't suspect you. To that kind of privileged kid, the position of a public hospital director, plus the friendship of the son of a state attorney general, is far more attractive than a private clinic. As long as you align yourself with him, he will trust you."

Daniel asked, "And then?"

Richard calmly replied, "Then get rid of him, and the plastic surgery department will be yours."

"What should I do? If he finds out I'm up to something, all he has to do is put that document on Corbyn's desk, and I'm finished! These privileged kids are shameless. Compared to Corbyn, the Dean and the others are practically saints!"

"Don't be nervous, Daniel," Richard analyzed calmly. "Everyone has their own matched opponents, understand? Everyone has their own matched opponents. Doesn't Eugene have any trouble? Doesn't he have any matched enemies?"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Corbin is the state attorney general, but Eugene was put in charge of the hospital. What does that say?"

Daniel was silent for a moment, then slowly began to speak.

"This shows he's out of favor. Otherwise, he should be in the prosecutor's office, or at least the NYPD, or a court or something like that."

""

"That's it." Richard stopped the car at a red light. "Eugene can only come to the hospital, even the Queens Hospital, not the main hospital, because others are taking his resources. Remember, every family's resources are limited. Even a governor, if they want to make their son governor, the political capital required is something the governor can't afford. So each family can only choose one child to fully support, usually the first boy. As for the second son, those with a conscience, like Eugene, will free up some resources to pave the way for him. Those without a conscience, like Leon, will eat, drink, and have fun. The family won't interfere with your fun, but don't even think about touching the family's businesses."

Daniel quickly realized what was happening, and his eyes began to light up.

He is a very shrewd person, but he doesn't start from a high level. As long as someone gives him some pointers, he immediately understands.

"But...who is Lyon?"

"A rich kid who only knows how to fish," Richard said.

Debbie looked at Richard with a strange expression; it seemed she was seeing this side of Richard for the first time.

Leon's evaluation by Richard was surprisingly low...

Daniel asked, "Even if Eugene has a brother, his brother wouldn't be interested in his little bit of business, would he? A lousy hospital director has far less power than a state attorney general!"

The green light is on.

Richard started the car: "Then you can try to make his brother think that Eugene is starting to take an interest in his things. As long as Eugene's brother feels that Eugene wants to do something that is not in the family's interest, he will teach his brother a lesson or eliminate him completely."

Foolish little brother.

Let your brother take good care of you.

Is it really that cruel? Daniel remained silent for a longer time on the other end of the phone, his breathing gradually calming down.

"So—Eugene also has his match. I understand."

"Yes, it might not be his brother, or someone else, watching him, or being watched by him," Richard said coldly. In Dongda University, this is called using someone else to do the dirty work; it's been written in books thousands of years ago. "During this time, you'll be working with Eugene and collecting all sorts of evidence of his illegal activities. At the right moment, all you need to do is initiate the attack and stay alive. Others will naturally follow up and deal damage. Don't worry, everyone is being watched! If you think no one is watching you, it just means you're trash, and nobody cares about your position."

Richard recalled that when he was at home, his stepmother was his rival, and then she won, and he was sent to America.

Here, no one in the family is watching him, because to the rest of the family, he's just an insignificant piece of trash.

In some ways, my status is no different from Lyon's...

"I think I understand." Daniel's voice regained some confidence. "If I need help..."

"I will persuade Dr. Shepard to do everything she can to help you," Richard chuckled. "You have to trust her influence."

Daniel believed it too much.

The ability to get him out of the FBI's clutches and secure the position of vice president was far beyond his comprehension.

"OK!" Daniel hung up the phone.

"Why do I get the feeling that you're some kind of mastermind behind everything?" Debbie looked at Richard curiously.

Richard glanced at her and said sincerely, "That's who I am."

"Hmph." Debbie sneered, "A high school student, and you think you're some kind of godfather?"

Richard glared at her: "I think you're asking for a beating."

Debbie shrank back: "It's a deal, no hitting the head, only the butt."

Richard scoffed, "Spanking you? You actually want a reward?"

"Damn it!" Debbie said angrily, a blush flashing across her face as her little scheme was exposed.

She immediately changed the subject: "Give me the car."

Richard firmly refused: "Do you remember the last time we went to Princeton? You were driving, speeding, got pulled over by the police, and then thirty-nine people died."

Debbie's lips twitched: "What do dead people have to do with me! You're making it sound like I fought a battle against a bunch of cops!"

"Who knows? Maybe it's a bad omen." He wouldn't let this crazy girl drive his car.

No matter how good his physique is, he can't withstand a head-on collision with a car weighing several tons.

"Hmph. I'll drive that car myself next time."

"Will Catherine let you drive?"

"Don't mention her to me!"

Debbie started nagging, saying that not letting her drive was discrimination against her, even though she was the real daughter.

The New Jersey Giants' cheerleading selection venue.

The parking lot outside the training hall was packed with various economy cars, and a few SUVs that were clearly driven by parents.

One hundred and thirty candidates, all tall and beautiful young women, walked toward the entrance carrying large and small bags.

Most of the girls came alone, while a few were brought by their parents. The mothers nervously helped their daughters fix their hair, while the fathers carried their luggage with expressionless faces.

It's not common for someone like Debbie to come with her boyfriend.

Most cheerleaders are actually part-time; they have their own jobs, such as nurses, cashiers, and most commonly, dance teachers.

Don't be fooled by the glamorous image of rugby cheerleaders; they don't actually earn much money, and not every girl gets to date.

They need to have a regular job to supplement their family income.

Richard couldn't understand this.

To fight for a one in ten thousand chance of fame, they gave up a 99.99% chance of making money steadily.

With their figures and cheerleading captain status (most of the girls who can get into this place were cheerleaders in middle school or college), they have always been the top dating circle in school.

Anyone with a modicum of common sense knows the best approach is to choose the man from among those who like them, based on his family background...

If you marry the man with the best personality, you've got your life settled; at least you've set a minimum standard.

They might not be able to handle the top elites, but they could easily handle a whole group of powerless rich kids like Lyon.

Even if she still wants to join the cheerleading team after marriage, she can continue dancing with the help of her husband's wealth.

She could retire to a wealthy family or become nationally famous. Why not balance a stable life with dancing?

Even if she's a bit of a bitch, she can still get a divorce if she becomes famous; after all, American men don't really care about taking over someone else's wife.

However, most of these women chose the most difficult path, working part-time to support themselves. During the most financially secure time of their lives, they squandered their youthful beauty at the supermarket checkout and kitchen sink, struggling to make ends meet.

Beauty is a luxury; a hard life will cause a flower to wither quickly.

After persisting for 10 years, their youth fades and they are completely finished.

From then on, no decent men would pursue them anymore; all the men left were just looking for sex.

They can only carry the glory of their youth with them and spend their lives in self-pity.

In short, as the saying goes, beauty combined with anything else is a winning combination, but going it alone is a losing proposition.

The 130 candidates were divided into four groups based on their appearance.

Richard felt the scene was like a United Nations Arts Youth Congress, with groups organized by skin color and hair color. Debbie was the most common type of blonde white artist, but there were also black-haired artists, Latin artists, and Asian artists.

The coverage is comprehensive and the proportions are precise; it's so damn "politically correct."

When the selection invitation was sent out, it was definitely reviewed by a designated person.

Richard Pi was thoroughly enjoying himself.

The cheerleading coach was a man named Edmund Black.

He walked out from backstage, wearing high heels.

Richard glanced at him, and goosebumps rose all over his body.

Edmund, despite having a full beard, a rugged face, and a strong bite, wore heavy makeup, tight training clothes that were a size too small for the performer, and exaggerated high heels.

Edmund clapped his hands with a very artistic flourish and said loudly, "Alright, girls, look at me! I'm Coach Edmund! I'm going to demonstrate a routine for you, it'll only take a minute, very short. You have thirty minutes to learn, and then you can start your group performance."

The 130 children quieted down and nervously stared at him.

Edmund gestured, and his assistant began playing upbeat music.

Edmund's powerful swaying combined with the expressiveness of artistic swaying makes his dance performance far surpass that of ordinary people.

He demonstrated the choreography with a level of precision that surpassed all the other children's, each movement as accurate as a programmed machine.

The angle of the waist twist and the range of arm extension are just right.

At the same time, Edmund's facial expressions are amazing. Like a child dancer on a rugby field, if you ignore his face, he is a top cheerleader.

Richard couldn't imagine how he could jump and lift his legs so smoothly while wearing such high heels.

Edmund demonstrated it once and then a second time, which helped the children remember it better.

Richard Li admitted that this cabinet had some tricks up its sleeve.

With his exceptional observational skills, he could almost discern the discrepancies between Edmund's two versions of the work.

The two dance performances stunned all the girls, and several young performers whispered among themselves, "Amazing! He's truly worthy of being called Edmund!!"

"He's a top-notch dancer; his swaying dance is better than most kids in the arts."

"Most people? Forget it, I've never seen anyone jump better than him."

Edmund had his assistant turn off the music and said loudly, "Alright, everyone, start doing it with me. We'll break down each step in five minutes, and then it'll be your study time. The first step..."

'

The children should quickly follow along and learn from them.

Richard leaned back on a bench prepared specifically for family members, leisurely holding a glass of Coke, sipping it while watching a group of beautiful dancers dance, in a very good mood.

If it were Lippi Edmund.

Eyeliner, false eyelashes, a full beard, and high heels—it's so damn irritating to the eyes!

With Richard's hearing, he could hear the children scheming against each other.

With 130 applicants vying for one spot, 129 were destined to be runners-up, creating a tense atmosphere among the aspiring artists.

Debbie is only considered above average in the middle.

The performer next to Debbie had a nameplate that read Delia. She didn't mention Debbie, but while dancing, she said to the performer beside her, her voice just loud enough for Debbie to hear: "You country bumpkin from the church, you can't even do a proper turn. What are you doing here with your sacred arts?"

Debbie gave her a cold glare: "Bitch! You can talk to me like that. Do you have a man's penis in your throat? Speak clearly!"

Delia's expression turned cold.

Like Debbie, she was a blonde white woman with a similar build and appearance, except that her features were not as youthful and rounded as Debbie's, and instead leaned towards a more mature look.

The competition between the two is the most direct. It's a 130-to-1 selection. If only one blonde white girl is chosen, then the two of them are the biggest competitors.

The two children, who were both performing arts, were bickering while simultaneously learning to dance.

Richard's hearing was so sharp that he couldn't quite make out their conversation, and he almost laughed.

The cheerleaders' arguments in Beijing were direct and straightforward, with every move targeting looks and vulgarity.

The other girls were also quite good, and they too were willing to fall behind. After matching their opponents, they chattered amongst themselves.

They're all strong!

Richard was worried about Debbie; any entertainer who could survive a high school cheerleading squad would definitely have a fighting spirit of over 95.

What a thoroughly enjoyable and intense online battle!

"Bitch skin bitch, captain tearing captain apart, this is so exciting!"

Besides the children dancing and tearing at each other nervously, some mothers in the audience even took the initiative to start matching.

If someone had intervened to stop them, the several glamorous mothers would probably have started a hair-tearing contest.

The mothers were pulled apart, and the commotion ended.

Richard refocused his attention on the field.

Compared to the other children in the factory, he noticed that Debbie was somewhat at a disadvantage; she was a little too nervous.

Debbie's hands were trembling with nervousness, and she made several mistakes in her movements, then got into a scuffle with Delia beside her...

The 30-minute learning session is almost over, and the group session begins.

The selection process has entered its most crucial stage.

Debbie was placed in the third group and was about to go on stage.

Debbie breathed heavily. This selection would determine the outcome of her two months of hard work, and it could even be said that this was the biggest opportunity she had ever had since she started cheerleading as a child.

If you miss it, you'll never know when you'll have another chance.

When the first group of children took the stage, their competition became even more intense and blatant.

Some people push forward to grab a better spot.

Someone pretended to carefully step on another person's shoes, making a stain on the shoe.

Some people even tried to step on other people's toes as they passed by, preventing them from jumping.

The staff took it all in stride and found it strange.

These kinds of petty things are commonplace among any cheerleading girls, and are even considered minor. In the past, there have even been cases of ruthless individuals who have slipped laxatives into the water of other contestants.

In a place like a factory, the strong will survive, and the weak will have to leave.

The first group of children has already started dancing.

Richard frowned slightly. Most of the children's desires burned with an abnormal excitement, which didn't seem like adrenaline, but more like the effect of drugs. It was a bit strange.

The other children were nervously waiting, cursing everyone for making mistakes, or reviewing the few things they hadn't remembered clearly.

Elsa, a black-haired performing artist, had the most solid technique and clearly had experience in dances such as ballet or waltz. She danced the best, far surpassing the other performing artists.

Unfortunately, her face lacks a certain star quality, and her appearance is too predominantly Asian, which puts her at a disadvantage in this situation.

Delia, standing nearby, secretly thought that she should have some advantage over Debbie.

Debbie is a Cleric, but even she, with her impeccable dancing skills, made three mistakes while learning!

He's obviously an idiot.

Debbie returned to Richard's side to wait for her turn, her hands trembling nervously as she gripped Richard's arm tightly.

Richard comforted her, "Calm down, Debbie."

Debbie's voice trembled slightly: "I know I need to stay calm, but I'm just so nervous, my heart is pounding."

Upon witnessing this scene, Delia had a sudden inspiration. She secretly took out her phone, snapped a photo, and posted it on her social media with only four words: "Saint Yi and her man."

The first group finished, and the second group took the stage, making the atmosphere even more tense.

After Elsa finished dancing, she sat down in front of Debbie in a friendly manner: "Debbie? I know you, you're that Sheng Yi from the internet, right? Need to take some medicine? I think you're being a bit too nervous."

She took out a paper package that looked like a candy from her pocket.

Richard frowned slightly.

Debbie asked, "What's this? Butterfly candy?"

"Yeah, every bitch ate. You should eat some too. How come they performed so well? We need something to keep our energy and concentration up. You're too tense."

"7

Debbie glanced at Richard and refused: "I'll take my medicine right away."

"OK. Good luck." Elsa smiled and left.

Back in the corner, her face darkened.

You've been tricked!

Damn bitch!

She reached into her pocket and turned off the recorder, hoping to find something on Saint Art.

Elsa Pilai, out of a total of 130 girls, only four or five were her match.

She has the best dance skills, but her appearance is a disadvantage.

Delia's looks are the most striking, and her dance skills are also outstanding.

However, to be honest, the two didn't have any direct competition. When it came to choosing a cheerleader, if it was about looks, it was Delia; if it was about skills, it was herself.

Elsa had no choice but to accept her fate.

Then there's Debbie. This entertainer doesn't have anything particularly outstanding. She's basically above 85 in every aspect. Her looks are a bit too much like a typical entertainer. She might fit Asian beauty standards, but in America, this kind of appearance is considered an advantage.

However, Debbie has a huge media influence.

She is Saint Art!

Elsa has already followed Debbie's account; 100,000 followers is a number she envies immensely.

If you have that many followers, you can make a fortune even if you just direct traffic to 0F.

That damn bitch, how can she be so lucky!

Debbie was trembling, her expression serious, and she even stopped joking.

Richard, in a lewd manner, acted on his desires.

Since everyone's using cheats, I'll do the same.

He patted Debbie's head and comforted her, "Debbie, calm down, you can do it."

At the same time, he used his desire to control Debbie's anger and keep it within a reasonable range.

The pressure shouldn't be too low; a certain level of tension helps with dance performance.

If we increase the level of excitement a little more, Debbie's competitive state will be perfect.

From the moment Richard touched her head, Debbie seemed to instantly calm down. Her heart started pounding, her attention focused, and everything on the field became incredibly clear.

Richard is indeed my Mr. Right!

Debbie took a deep breath and hugged Richard: "I'll definitely be chosen!"

Delia quickly snapped a large number of photos.

Richard did not notice Delia's little scheme.

The scene was filled with malice and hostility; the children were hostile to almost everyone, and Richard had no way of discerning them.

"Second group finished! Third group!" the staff on the field shouted.

Debbie hugged Richard again, walked onto the stage, and joined the seven scheming little bitches at the station.

Of course, she herself is one of those little bitches.

The music is ringing.

Debbie followed the music and moved in sync with the choreography.

She stood for a full hour, and with the final spin, she landed steadily, completing the one-hour dance with a group of candidates.

After the dance, Debbie excitedly jumped off the stage: "I did a fantastic job! I think I scored at least 90!"

"Go for it, Jingbang!" Richard encouraged, as if a father were encouraging his son.

Edmund, as the dance instructor and chief judge, detachedly kept track of everyone's Buddhist count.

His face showed absolutely no desire, only disgust and criticism of the work.

"This batch of girls is terrible! Only Elsa is passable."

“Li-Pong, she’s a black-haired performer with an Asian face.” Publicity director Atticus Fleming shook his head. “The boss, Li, will agree. We need to find a white performer. There aren’t many Chinese-American football games. We already have two Asian players; Li can’t have more.”

"OK," Edmund retorted.

He understood that this was a business alliance where eyeballs were more important than technology.

A pretty and attractive child is far more important than whether their fingers are properly extended.

Quickly, all the children finished the competition.

After Atticus-Fleming finished speaking, he stated clearly, "Since there aren't any particularly outstanding ones in this batch, aside from Elsa, who has an exceptionally good dance, we'll prioritize appearance for the other performers. We already have seven Black people in the team, that's enough. Too many would make us look like we're from Beijing, and the middle class would be too crowded. We also have two Asians and four Latinos, that's enough. This time, we still need a blonde white girl; Black and Asians are all out!"

In New York, cakes must be served in any public setting, and every ethnic group must have its own representative, who may be beautiful or ugly. This is necessary for propaganda, but every race must have one, so that everyone can at least maintain a semblance of fairness.

"OK!" Edmund quickly crossed out a large number of names.

With just a few words, the two decided that most of the children's artistic journey had been in vain.

The children watched Edmund's hand nervously; each time a name was crossed out, it meant someone was eliminated.

For the older children in the Kyoto region, this is their last chance. If they are eliminated, they will have little hope of making it to the Super Bowl in the future.

"For those over 25, we need to sign long-term contracts."

OK.

"This Debbie, her dancing is above average, and she's quite a sensation in Kyoto. I'm worried that keeping her might cause trouble for the Catholic Church. Let the Boss decide."

OK.

""

Edmund's list was reduced to nine people.

"Black hair?" he said, pointing to Elsa. "She dances very well. Black hair can be dyed blonde if she wants to."

Atticus Fleming yelled, "Elsa Craig! You can dye your hair blonde?"

"No problem!" Elsa exclaimed in surprise.

All the children stared at Elsa with hostile eyes.

Damn bitch!

You clearly have black hair!

Some people are already preparing to expose this scene online.

Edmund scoffed, "Saying it out in public might get her into trouble."

Atticus-Fleming was unimpressed: "That's Elsa's problem. Besides, negative publicity is still publicity."

"If she can pull through, that's great; if she can't, we'll find another one."

To him, the cheerleaders were just consumables.

They're everywhere; their very existence needs to be taken seriously.

"Besides, this is just a selection of a substitute, and he might not even get to play. Don't be nervous."

Edmund tilted his head but didn't say anything.

Atticus Fleming's words are harsh, but that's reality, that's the rule of survival for cheerleaders.

Everyone has to work incredibly hard to persevere, just like how they work so hard to lose weight.

He knew that many of these young artists had taken various diet pills, which were good for their health, but so what?

Which tennis player can easily reach the top?

Super Bowl cheerleading is the pinnacle of these kids' careers.

In the end, the two quickly made a decision and crossed out the last name.

The sweat and effort of 130 beautiful children over the past few months, as well as all their hopes for the future, were settled as Fleming read out the list.

"Now I will announce the list of those who have passed. These people can prepare for the next round of interviews. Elsa Craig."

Elsa shrieked and excitedly tried to hug someone, but everyone else was nervously watching Fleming and no one paid her any attention.

She was very happy and started sending celebratory text messages on her phone.

"Delia-Rohau".

Delia raised her chin proudly and glanced at Debbie.

"Debbie Dixon".

Debbie also raised her chin and looked at Delia.

The fight between the two continued.

Vanessa Victor.

Fleming read out the names of eight people one after another.

Those whose names were called jumped up in surprise, while the children who weren't called were filled with disappointment. Some of the more mentally weaker children had already knelt on the ground and started working.

The eight chosen children were immediately brought before Atticus Fleming.

Atticus-Fleming instructed, "You have one day to prepare. Come here tomorrow afternoon at the same time for the final interview. Note that the cheerleading manager, the team marketing manager, the team coaches, and senior veteran players will all be present at the interview."

"You guys are supposed to dress like bitches, but I'm forced to wear a business suit! Understand? I'm not interested in seeing anyone showing off their legs."

Squeezing out cleavage to seduce other men. And the makeup has to be overly exaggerated. I will clearly define what kind of makeup and clothing is appropriate, and every artist should understand those boundaries. OK?

"Remember! I'll be watching you. If I find that anyone follows my instructions, her spot will be gone. I have a veto right, remember! I have a veto right!"

The eight children looked at him nervously and nodded obediently.

"OK! Go back and get ready. It's the same time tomorrow afternoon, don't miss it, nobody will wait for you. Make an appointment with your lawyer in advance, if it goes through, Jing will sign a contract soon, at least 5 years. The Super Bowl is about to start, we have plenty of time!"

that's all!"

Atticus Fleming clapped his hands, signaling the child's release.

Staff members gradually left the venue.

Debbie excitedly rushed to Richard, jumped onto him, wrapped her legs around his waist, and put her arms around his neck.

Her heart was pounding so hard she could feel it through her clothes, and her face was filled with barely suppressed joy: "I did it! I did it!"

Richard patted her on the back and laughed, "You have an interview tomorrow, don't be too stressed."

Bitch! Delia took another photo before leaving and posted it on her social media.

But it was just a small, unnoticed account with only a thousand followers. Even when it posted, no one paid attention to it, and it didn't have much influence.

Debbie jumped off Richard and immediately nudged Catherine: "Mom! I made it! Just one last step! Eight people are interviewing tomorrow, it's one in eight, I'm sure I'll get in! I'm sure I can keep my promise to Clara!"

"Catherine!" A laugh rang out on the other end of the phone: "So beautiful! You're my pride! Do your best in the interview tomorrow! I'll be waiting for you at home!"

Debbie hung up the phone, leaned on Richard's shoulder, let out a long sigh, and said arrogantly, "Let's go home. I knew I was a cheerleading genius!"

The NYPD's makeshift meeting room was dimly lit.

Several NYPD officers (Gao Xingzheng) gave a routine work report.

Making a profit—Carter sat at the head of the long table, with a document in front of him.

After finishing all the routine work, Henry said directly, "Now I'm announcing a decision. Isabella overstepped her authority in the investigation, used illegal means, and severely damaged the internal stability of the NYPD. She is hereby suspended for seven days."

Isabella was stunned.

Temporary suspension?!

"You dare do this! To make a profit!" Isabella gritted her teeth in anger, she was truly caught off guard this time.

What should people do now?

The video definitely cannot be made public; if it is, she's finished.

That audio recording can be released immediately, but not until Samuel is fully convicted.

She can only endure it now.

O'Connor nervously watched Isabella, wondering what had happened.

Zhuan Li coldly glared at Isabella: "Li, I'm the director, I have that authority!"

He was convinced that she wouldn't dare release the video publicly; it was a lose-lose situation.

Isabella will destroy herself as soon as she wants to climb any higher.

Isabella monitors four companies.

Samuel Stone wore a mocking expression.

Moreover, the other Gao Xings also harbored good intentions towards her.

Isabella realized that the bastard, Zhuanli, had revealed his investigation into NYPD's Takayuki.

She will face enormous difficulties in the future, and everyone will try to stop her.

Damn!

"Furthermore," Earl continued, "I have decided to nominate Samuel Stone as Chief of Police. The formal nomination documents have already been submitted to Mayor Manterson, and Samuel will officially assume office after the mayor's approval. Congratulations!"

The others immediately applauded.

Congratulations, Samuel!

"You'll be the Chief Superintendent soon!"

"Chief Constable Stone!"

Samuel accepted the compliments from his colleagues with a smile.

O'Connor clenched his fists and exchanged a glance with Isabella.

"Damn profiteer! He should get out of here! He's not fit to be the chief of staff at all! He knows everything!" Seeing that the chief of staff's seat was about to fall, even O'Connor, who had been calm all along, stood up calmly.

"We must act. Hart Island, we must kill Samuel!" O'Connor had originally wanted to leave some room for maneuver, but now that he was making money, there was no chance for him to back down.

If that's the case, then go die!

"Let's do something big! I'm willing to endure another twenty years before becoming a chief constable."

Samuel was only in his forties, younger than O'Connor, and he simply couldn't wait until Samuel stepped down.

Isabella sneered, "I've been suspended. This time, I can only provide support. You need to be fully prepared. This is our biggest chance. I'm already the NYPD's Chief of General Affairs. If we fail, I'll still be the Chief of General Affairs, and you'll just be a lowly police officer! I prefer weak men!"

"Fk! Don't talk about this stuff. Work is work!" O'Connor still preferred to discuss topics like this with Isabella.

No matter what this person says, they always end up talking about this, it's crazy.

"Hehehe!" Isabella could still manage a laugh.

Evan Sanders finished his writing for the day and went out to exercise in the yard.

He peered through the gaps in the hedge and reached Aaron's empty house, feeling very pleased.

Want to buy Aaron's house?

There isn't any!

No one can move in; this quiet place is his independent kingdom.

Evan took a stroll in the yard, took out his phone, poured himself a glass of white wine, and leisurely enjoyed his evening.

The waves surged in from afar, one after another, making rhythmic, crisp sounds as they lapped against the wooden piles of the private dock.

His yacht gently rocked on the shore.

Evan Sanders doesn't like fishing, but he has to have a boat.

In this community, you can play wherever you want, and if there's a private dock, you must have boats.

Aaron's small dock was deserted, and he always felt uncomfortable whenever he went there.

snort!

An actor doesn't deserve to live with us!

Evan was half-lying down, scrolling through videos.

He really enjoys the Giants' games; today seems to be the cheerleader selection.

The Giants filmed some promotional videos and posted them online.

Evan Pi watched a group of bright and beautiful young artists jumping and spinning in front of the camera, making him feel as if he had returned to his youth.

Then, he saw a picture and text: Saint Art and her man.

In the picture, Debbie Dixon, the rising star of the Saint Art, is jumping on the waist of an Asian man!

Is that man Richard, the one who wanted to buy Aaron's house?

The two embraced, and the camera angle made Richard's hand appear to be on Debbie's buttocks.

Evan Sanders' eyes lit up; a flash of inspiration struck him.

He put down his wine glass, gripped his phone with both hands, and began typing on the screen.

As a bestselling author, he is very good at creating memes with just one sentence.

He listed several versions, and finally chose the one he was most satisfied with: "His Highness the Holy Art is proving with his own body that Catholicism is indeed a universal church, even setting racial restrictions on dating partners."

"Your Highness, did Archbishop Sawyer tell you that the crusaders included men from the Eastern University? Your campaign seems to have gone astray?"

PS: I plan to insert a plot about Sacred Art and the Yellow Peril into my new work, "New York Love". What do you all think?

His new book, "New York Love," is almost finished and will be published soon; he's starting to build hype.

As a bestselling author, Evan is very good at riding the wave of trending topics.

Evan is an established author with millions of followers on social media accounts.

The moment this post was published, the comment section exploded, with comments and reposts growing rapidly like a snowball.

Evan knew he had just started a fire, and all he had to do now was let it burn.

He leaned back in his chair, holding a wine glass, and raised it somewhat ungracefully towards the empty, unlit house on the other side of the wall.

"Thank you for the treat! Tokyo University boy!"