The American TV series "Four-Round Boxing Champion Starts with Shameless"

Page 110

"Victor! My iron-blooded boxer!"

Trump's voice entered the room before anyone else.

He was wearing his signature double-breasted suit, his blond hair neatly combed back, standing beside the elegant Ivana and their youngest daughter, Ivanka.

Four-year-old Ivanka peeked curiously from behind her mother at the uncle who had 'made someone bleed'. Ivana, on the other hand, placed a bouquet of white roses on the bedside table with a mysterious smile.

Donald,

Viktor forced himself to sit up straight. "I didn't expect you to come in person."

"Of course!"

Trump pulled up a chair and sat down. "Listen, we can be flexible about postponing the game. Two weeks? Three weeks? We could even combine the Mercedes game and Harper's game into one super game!"

Victor frowned: "It's not a matter of time, it's about my physical condition."

Trump leaned forward and lowered his voice: "I can arrange to return your bets and give you special betting limits. My God, you've just made history! The audience can't wait to see your next game!"

Donald,

Victor looked the other man straight in the eye. "I won't risk my career."

The air in the room seemed to freeze for a few seconds.

Ivana suddenly coughed lightly: "Perhaps we can try a different approach."

She crossed her legs gracefully, her long, shapely, fair legs, typical of a model, were quite impressive—the Czech Republic is known for this.

"Instead of focusing on a single match, why not consider a long-term partnership? For example... a share of the betting pool?"

Trump looked at his wife in surprise, but Ivana continued, "Viktor brings far more attention than the average boxer. We can set up a special betting pool centered around him, taking a percentage as his fixed income."

This suggestion made Viktor raise an eyebrow.

Ivana's eyes gleamed with shrewdness, showing no signs of being a spur-of-the-moment decision.

As she spoke, her fingers, painted with red nail polish, tapped lightly on her purse, the rhythm like a countdown.

"I need to discuss this with the team."

Viktor finally answered.

Before leaving, Ivana excused herself to go to the restroom and secretly slipped a note under Viktor's medicine box.

A number and a brief message, written in elegant handwriting, read: "If you are interested in your old business, please call this number—IM."

That evening, Victor stood by the window, gazing at the lights of Atlantic City.

A check for $191 million lay on the bedside table, while Ivana flipped through her fingers the note.

In the distance, the neon lights of Trump Casino stood out prominently against the night sky.

He knew that the real battle was just beginning and was about to begin!

Chapter 89 Negotiation and Tenfold Recovery

Victor Lee lay on the massage bed in the training room, taking careful, deep breaths.

His brutal fight with Razor Rudock on August 15th took a heavy toll on him – a fractured jaw and three broken ribs. Doctors predicted he would need at least six weeks to recover.

But at this moment, he felt the air flowing smoothly into his lungs without any pain.

"Steel and iron body?"

He muttered to himself, his fingers gently touching his ribs.

The area was once covered in bluish-purple hues, but now only pale yellow traces remain.

The training room door opened, and Frankie strode in, holding two bottles of sports drinks: "Hey kid, how's it going today? Still hurting?"

The veteran coach's tone was clearly skeptical.

Viktor sat up and stretched his upper body: "To be honest, it doesn't hurt at all anymore."

Frankie scoffed and tossed him a bottle of drink: "Come on, a fracture heals in ten days? Do you think you're Wolverine?"

He walked over and patted Victor on the shoulder. "Listen, I know you want to play in the game against Mercedes on September 5, but lying won't do you any good."

"I didn't lie."

Viktor frowned, pulled open his sports vest to reveal his ribs, and said, "See for yourself."

Frankie squinted, his rough fingers pressing on Victor's ribs.

While Victor remained expressionless, his expression shifted from doubt to shock: "This...this is impossible! Wolverine is fake!"

"I already told you."

Victor jumped off the massage bed and made several rapid punches without any hesitation.

"Wait, I'll go call Old Jack and Ethan."

Frankie left in a hurry and returned a short while later with two other coaches.

Old Jack dragged Michael along, who brought medical experts from the hospital, along with portable ultrasound equipment.

Half an hour later, the doctor took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes: "Unbelievable! Not only has the bone healed, but..."

He pointed to the screen, "Here, the bone density and thickness are much higher than normal."

Ethan whistled: "This kid is a medical miracle."

"I've been like this since I was a child!"

Viktor thought to himself, it's the ability of 'steel bones'.

Since he started training, he has noticed strange changes in his body—his bone density is far greater than that of ordinary people, and his recovery speed from injuries is now ridiculously fast.

Combined with the ability to rapidly absorb nutrients, it produces a recovery effect ten times greater than that of ordinary people.

"We need to tell the insurance company to arrange a formal inspection."

Old Jack said seriously.

The following day, accompanied by Michael, Victor underwent a full check-up at Atlantic City Church Hospital.

The head of the radiology department looked at the X-ray film with a furrowed brow.

“Mr. Li, I must say, this defies common medical sense. According to your previous medical records, your injury should have taken at least six weeks to begin healing. But now…”

He pointed to the X-ray, "Not only is it completely healed, but the bone structure is also stronger than before the injury."

Michael's sharp gaze shifted to Victor: "Do you have anything to say?"

Victor shrugged: "I just recovered quickly."

As he was leaving the hospital, Michael stopped him and said, "Listen, whatever your secrets are, this is a good thing. The doctor has given you a certificate that you can play in the game on September 5th."

He paused, then continued, "By the way, what's your decision regarding Ivana Trump's invitation?"

Victor looked at Michael: "I'm not sure if it's a good idea."

Michael sighed and pulled a gold-embossed business card from his briefcase: "The executives at Trump Casino Hotel want to see you to talk about 'business.' Jimmy said it could be a big opportunity."

Viktor then remembered the business card he had casually stuffed into his pocket.

He was in a state of euphoria during the Max arrival movement and didn't pay any attention at the time.

“Jimmy said the woman was very shrewd and a powerful figure in the Trump Organization.”

Michael lowered his voice, "It's said that she's the real operator, and Trump owes his current success primarily to this former model."

Victor took the business card, the gold lettering of 'Ivana Trump' gleaming in the sunlight: "But Jimmy didn't give me any advice!"

"Return of gambling capital and share of the gambling pool."

Jimmy's voice came from behind them; he had somehow appeared behind them: "Trump Casino wants to make an exclusive deal with you—if you win the game, they'll return your initial investment, and you'll also get a cut of the betting pool."

Jimmy approached, his small eyes gleaming with shrewdness: "It's a win-win situation. For them, it attracts more gamblers; for you, it provides an additional source of income. I've heard that they give top boxers a 15% cut of the betting pool."

Victor frowned: "It sounds like you're gambling with my reputation."

"That's business, Victor."

Jimmy patted him on the shoulder. "Boxing isn't just about the ring; it's business off the ring. You're a rising star in the heavyweight division, and your punches and fighting prowess are driving your commercial value up. Trump Casino has its eye on your potential."

Michael nodded in agreement: "Jimmy is right. And building a relationship with the Trump Organization will benefit your future. They have a lot of influence in Atlantic City."

Viktor pondered for a moment, then shook his head: "I don't want to sign this agreement. I think it will hurt me someday. Perhaps taking a portion of the money is the most direct approach."

"That's fine too. It's best to have as few options as possible when dealing with them."

Jimmy agreed with Victor's suggestion and pointed out that one shouldn't have too many ideas when communicating with them: "We might say a figure of three hundred thousand dollars."

Victor agreed: "Okay, arrange a meeting."

Half a day later, Victor and Jimmy stood in the Golden Hall of the Trump Casino Hotel in Atlantic City.

The crystal chandelier illuminated the entire space as if it were daytime, and well-dressed gamblers moved among them, the clinking of chips echoing throughout.

Jimmy whispered a word of caution, “Ivana is no ordinary businesswoman. She was born in Czechoslovakia, lived through the Iron Curtain era, immigrated to Canada, and then came to the United States. This woman is self-made and extremely shrewd. Don’t let her lead you by the nose during negotiations.”

Victor nodded and straightened his suit collar.

He felt even more nervous than when he stepped into the ring—at least in the ring he knew the rules, but his opponent was talking about his old business.

An assistant dressed in a black suit guided them to the top floor via a private elevator.

The elevator doors opened, revealing a spacious office with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a stunning view of Atlantic City at night.

“Mister Lee, you look much better than before.”

A female voice with an Eastern European accent rang out.

Ivana Trump stood up from behind her desk.

She was taller than Victor had imagined, her blonde hair styled in an elegant updo, and her blue suit accentuated her sharp blue eyes.

Despite her flawless makeup, Victor could see fine lines around her eyes—a sign of long hours of intense work.

"Ms. Trump."

Victor stepped forward to shake her hand and noticed that her grip was firmer than that of a pampered lady.

Ivana gestured for them to sit on the leather sofa in the reception area.