In the evening, at Mayfair’s Grosvenor district, the Biltmore Mayfair hotel ca to life.
Lights were flashing, and music echoed through the air. Guests in elegant attire mingled in the grand lobby, their laughter and chatter blending with the rhythm of the upbeat tunes. But most of them were guests of Harry, his brother, who enjoyed mingling with celebrities because of his job.
"Mr. Richard!"
A young man with neatly styled short hair called out, his voice cutting through the background noise.
Richard turned toward the sound and instantly recognized him. He smiled warmly, raising his glass of orange juice in a casual toast.
"Congratulations on hitting number one on the UK singles chart. Your track is everywhere lately—well deserved."
It was Noel Gallagher, the backbone of the band Oasis, who had recently joined Maddox Entertainnt under Harry’s managent. Their second studio album, (What’s the Story) Morning Glory?, had just been released and exploded in popularity.
It was the first album they released under Maddox Entertainnt—and later, he knew, the songs would go on to beco so of the most successful of all ti. Richard couldn’t help but lick his lips. The more successful they beca, the more money they printed for him.
"We were just ssing around in the studio a few months ago—never thought it’d blow up like this." Noel Gallagher then said humbly.
As a die-hard Manchester City fan, Noel didn’t dwell on the music praise. Instead, his eyes lit up with sothing else entirely.
"Mr. Richard, did you see City tear Brentford apart? The midfield was solid, the pressing was relentless, and that lad on the wing—unreal. If we keep playing like that, promotion’s not a dream, it’s a tiline."
Richard nodded, amused by his passion. "Of course—but let’s hope the montum holds. It’s a long season."
They clinked glasses, two very different worlds briefly united by the one thing they both couldn’t stop thinking about—football, and Manchester City’s unstoppable start to the season.
As ti passed, Richard made his way through the crowd, exchanging greetings with a host of familiar faces.
First, of course, were his players and coaching staff. Then ca the celebrities—from the rest of Oasis mbers to Thom Yorke of Radiohead, and even Rover CEO Alan Mulally, who was soon joined by Fay—two key figures in Richard’s growing automotive ventures.
Later, he also greeted so special guests, including Vince McMahon from WWF, his MLS partner Philip Anschutz of The Anschutz Corporation, Roman Abramovich, and several representatives from Evrazholding, all of whom were in attendance at the event.
Finally, as the evening neared its peak, the lights in the ballroom dimd slightly, and a hush began to fall over the crowd.
A spotlight turned toward the stage as the host’s voice echoed through the speakers: "Ladies and gentlen, please welco to the stage—Mr. Richard Maddox."
A wave of polite applause rolled through the room as Richard stepped up, dressed sharply in a tailored midnight-blue suit. He smiled confidently, pausing to take in the room filled with celebrities, business leaders, creatives, and close allies.
He leaned slightly toward the microphone, "Good evening, everyone. Thank you for being here tonight—to celebrate not just the opening of The Biltmore Mayfair, but sothing even bigger."
He paused for effect, letting the mont settle.
"Tonight, I’m proud to officially introduce The Maddox Group—a new Chapter that brings together everything we’ve built and everything we’re aiming for. Under one na, one vision."
On the large screen behind him, the new Maddox Group logo appeared—sleek, modern, bold.
"Maddox Auto will continue to innovate in mobility and performance. Maddox Property will redefine luxury living and hospitality. Maddox Entertainnt will back bold talent and unforgettable stories. And with Maddox Capital, we will invest in the future—strategically, ethically, and fearlessly."
After delivering a brief but impactful speech about the Maddox Group, Richard stepped back from the microphone. He raised his glass, a playful twinkle in his eye.
"Tonight is about celebrating—enjoying the hard work, the vision, and the people that got us here. So, let’s take this mont to relax, have fun, and make so mories. The rest of the world can wait; tonight is for us."
As the crowd erupted into applause and laughter, the music picked up again, and the energy in the room shifted from formal to festive.
After stepping onto the stage, Richard took a mont to survey the room. His eyes soon found a familiar face—Marina Granovskaia—standing in the crowd. Without missing a beat, he made his way toward her.
"What are you doing here alone?" Richard asked.
Marina didn’t answer right away, instead giving a subtle glance toward a direction. Richard followed her gaze and saw Roman Abramovich dancing in the ballroom with her sister, Cassandra.
Richard was amused by this. Did they really have fun together, leaving her alone to wait for them? But he couldn’t help but look at the pair with a puzzled expression. ’Are they actually a couple?’
Unable to hold back his curiosity, he leaned in slightly and asked, "Hey, is Mr. Abramovich and your sister—"
"No, their relationship is purely professional," Marina cut him off suddenly.
Richard paused for a mont before smiling. "Alright, no need to elaborate," he said with a playful grin. "But you know, it’s a bit of a surprise seeing you here, leaving your sister and Mr. Abramovich alone."
Marina’s lips curved slightly at the jab. "I prefer to keep a low profile, especially at these events."
"Is that so?" Richard chuckled, his gaze never leaving her.
The music swirled around them, the sound of laughter and conversation fading into the background. There was sothing magnetic about her, and he couldn’t help but feel the pull.
"Well, since you’re here," Richard said out of nowhere, "how about we change that? Co on, let’s dance."
Marina raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. "Dance?" she echoed, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "With you?"
"Why not?" Richard replied smoothly, extending his hand toward her. "It’ll be fun. Just one dance, and we can both pretend we don’t have a care in the world."
There was a pause as Marina glanced around the room, taking in the couples twirling across the floor, the warmth, and the rhythm in the air. She hesitated, but then she relented.
"Alright," she finally said, placing her hand in his. "But don’t expect to go easy on you."
As they moved onto the dance floor, Richard led her effortlessly into the swirling crowd. Their dance was fluid, the connection between them undeniable.
As the song played on, Richard leaned in slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You know, you’re quite the dancer. I’m impressed."
Marina’s lips twitched into a smile. "I’ve had so practice," she said, but there was sothing more in her tone. It wasn’t just about the dance anymore.
The song began to slow, and with it, the space between them seed to shrink even further. Richard’s gaze locked with hers, and for a mont, everything else in the room faded into the background. The playful banter, the teasing exchanges—it all seed to lt away, leaving just the two of them in the midst of the dance, the chemistry undeniable.
But just as quickly as it had co, the mont broke. The music stopped, followed by light applause, and with a soft laugh, Marina pulled back. "That was fun, but don’t get too used to it," she said, her voice teasing but warm.
Richard’s smile lingered. "I won’t," he replied, already looking forward to the next mont they would share.
Just as Richard and Marina were about to turn away, a voice called out, "It seems you two have beco quite close already."
They both turned around to find Abramovich standing behind them, alone.
"Your sister is over there," he said suddenly, nodding toward Marina. As a forr secretary to him, Marina instantly recognized the cue—ti to talk business.
She gave Richard a quick nod before heading toward her sister.
Richard, in turn, gestured for Abramovich to follow him.
Without missing a beat, Richard led Abramovich toward a nearby eting room.
"I heard you just got back from your business trip to China?"
After both had taken a seat, it didn’t take long for Richard to bring up his question about the current state of Evrazholding—after all, he owned a 10.65% stake in the company.
"Yes, I just landed this morning," Abramovich replied. "I’ll tell you about it later, but here’s the short version—both the central and local governnts are extrely proactive in attracting foreign investnt."
Though Evrazholding was still focused on consolidating its dostic operations, Abramovich had been giving serious thought to expanding into China.
As both n understood well—timing is everything, and China was entering a powerful wave of industrialization, fueled by sweeping economic reforms.
That’s why EVRAZ saw a clear strategic opportunity: to position itself closer to the demand center.
The need for steel in infrastructure, railways, and construction—as well as raw materials for manufacturing—was booming. And the timing couldn’t have been more ideal.
"Among the regions I visited, the governnts in the northeastern provinces offered the most favorable conditions," Abramovich continued.
"The northeastern provinces? Are you referring to the ones bordering North Korea?" Richard couldn’t help but ask.
"That’s right."
The northeastern region, commonly known as Dongbei San Sheng, includes the provinces of Liaoning, Jilin, and Heilongjiang.
Richard frowned slightly. "Isn’t that the complete opposite of where we originally planned to open the plant—in Shenzhen?"
Shenzhen’s proximity to Southeast Asia, Hong Kong, and the broader Asia-Pacific market made it ideal for export-oriented manufacturing and serving regional infrastructure and construction needs.
"That’s correct. The distance between Shenyang, a major city in the northeast, and Shenzhen is about 2,300 kiloters—quite far," Abramovich replied.
"You’re not seriously considering relocating the plant there, are you?"
"At first, I was skeptical too. But after Frolov and Abramov brought up the idea, I think it’s worth serious consideration," Abramovich said calmly.
"Is that so?"
Richard then crossed his arms, signaling he was open to discussion. "What changed your mind? Lower production costs?"
"Not just that," Abramovich said, continuing. "Labor costs in Shenzhen are already significantly lower than in Europe. However, the northeastern provinces are even more underdeveloped and offer even cheaper labor. On top of that, the proximity to Korea is a major logistical advantage. Products can be transported efficiently through Dalian Port, which reduces shipping complexity."
"Hmm," Richard muttered, absorbing the information.
Abramovich pressed on. "While I was in Shenzhen, a high-ranking official from the Liaoning provincial governnt visited after hearing about our plans. He was very enthusiastic about attracting our factory and offered so compelling incentives."
At the ntion of incentives, Richard’s interest sharpened. He leaned forward. "What kind of incentives?"
"They’re offering a 25-acre site near Shenyang, rent-free for 55 years, and they’ll handle all infrastructure—roads, utilities, everything," Abramovich revealed.
Richard’s eyes widened slightly. "Twenty-five acres?"
Though it wasn’t as vast as the 300-acre Solihull plant owned by Rover Group, the fact that the Chinese governnt was offering all of this showed they were serious.
"Exactly. And on top of that, they’re willing to cut our corporate taxes in half for the first 10 years," Abramovich added.
"No wonder you’re considering relocation. If they’re offering terms like that, they must be very committed."
"Indeed. Liaoning’s provincial governnt is so eager we could likely negotiate even more favorable conditions."
Richard nodded slowly as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Then, after a pause, he turned to Abramovich and asked the most important question.
"But Roman..." he hesitated slightly, locking eyes with him, "why are you telling all this? Even without my approval, it doesn’t really matter, right... right?"
Now, suddenly, Richard brought up the issue. Abramovich let out a suspicious-sounding cough before clearing his throat. "Actually... there’s another reason I ca here," he said, shifting slightly in his seat.
"..."
’I knew it,’ Richard muttered to himself before nodding. "What is it?"
Abramovich nodded thoughtfully before dropping the bombshell, leaving Richard montarily stunned. "What are your thoughts on Russian football?"
Richard was speechless.
’No way... right?’
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