Domination in America, Starting from being a Boxing Champion-Chapter 381 - 331: The Plan to Bring Down Link

"Take down Link, split the Link Music, does Jay-Z want in?"

Just as Eminem and his crew reached the second-floor private room, they overheard this comment from inside. Eminem immediately stopped, looked back at 50 Cent and the others, and asked in a hushed tone if they should continue listening.

50 Cent held his index finger to his lips, motioned a ’shush,’ and then pressed his ear against the door, gleefully eavesdropping.

Eminem shrugged his shoulders, leaned on the hallway railing, whipped out his phone, and started playing Candy Crush, all while listening to the conversation inside—mainly because the voices in the room were so loud that there was no need to press his ear to the door.

"Just with those rumors, you think you can take down Link?" Jay-Z asked.

"Rumors alone won’t do it, how about adding a criminal case?" Puff Daddy said.

"A criminal case? What kind of case has Link done, do you have something on him?" Jay-Z asked with surprise in his voice.

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"Not yet. Josie checked his records through the judicial system. This guy has been cautious since he came of age—no whoring, gambling, drug abuse, or illegal business. There are almost no loopholes. But he has recently revealed a big one—lust!"

Puff Daddy paused, then continued, "It’s easy to deal with a lascivious person. We just need to send him some underage girls, and let the girls come forward afterwards to report him. Hmph, guess if his reputation will go bankrupt? If he doesn’t want to go to jail, he can exchange evidence for shares in Link Music. I think he’d be very willing."

"Sounds pretty good," Jay-Z said.

Upon hearing this, Eminem couldn’t help but frown, a look of disgust appearing on his face as he silently mouthed the word ’trash.’

50 Cent and the others listening also twisted their mouths. Even though they weren’t exactly saints, they never thought about using such a disgusting tactic against Link.

"Josie, will you handle it, or should I? Your uncle has more—and more obedient—girls. Why don’t you arrange it?" Puff Daddy said.

"My uncle just got out of prison, and there are a lot of cops watching him. It’s not easy to get people from him, so you handle it," a languid voice responded.

"How will you arrange it?" Jay-Z asked.

"Em’s new album is a huge hit, and there’s a celebration party next week. He’s on good terms with Link. We can invite Link over, and then..."

"Motherfucker!"

When Eminem heard the conversation inside, he managed to hold back at first, but when they planned to use him to ambush Link, his anger shot from his feet to his head. He kicked open the private room door and spat out a litany of curses at a rate of twelve words per second:

"Trash! A bunch of trash! Calling you trash is an insult to trash itself. You’re not even worthy of the garbage in my bathroom bin. You’re rats, sewer rats, your whole bodies from fur to blood to bone reek of decrepit, foul odors. You hide in the sewers every day, scheming against others, thinking of how to steal what others have. You are the absolute lowest of humans... no, you don’t even deserve to be called humans. You’re dog shit. Seeing you, saying your names, I feel like I’ve dirtied my eyes and mouth. I’m going to use mouthwash when I get back and wash my eyes..."

"....."

While the six people inside were discussing how to ruin Link and carve up Link Music, the door was suddenly kicked open. Eminem stood at the doorway, his mouth firing like a machine gun at the people inside, leaving them dumbfounded and unable to react.

When they finally snapped back to reality, their faces turned pitch black. Eminem’s cursing was filthy. Explore more at novelbuddy

They were either billionaires or born rich, people with status in New York, but now they were being cursed by Eminem as trash, dog shit, stinking rats...

Puff Daddy and Jay-Z looked especially grim. As people of color, they hated being discriminated against the most.

Now they were being cursed by Eminem as despicable, stinking rats, the lowest of humans. It was as if they were being prodded in the throat with a toilet brush. Who could stand such a thing?

Puff Daddy’s face darkened as he glared with his bulging eyes and pulled a Desert Eagle from his back waistband.

"Em, stop cursing."

Seeing the situation turn sour, 50 Cent wrapped his arm around the still ranting Eminem, covered his mouth, and retreated a few steps while laughing, "Jess, you guys continue your chat, we’re just passing by."

"How come you’re here?"

Jay-Z asked with a stern face.

50 Cent chuckled, "Jess, Em’s just looking out for you. We all know Little Epstein and Puff Daddy aren’t exactly good people. Em’s worried you’ll pick up bad habits hanging out with them, so he dragged us up here to talk to you."

"Fuck! 50 Cent, who are you calling not good people?"

Puff Daddy cursed with a blackened face.

Although he was known as Puff Daddy, he was actually around the same age as Jay-Z, just over forty. He started his career in gangs and selling drugs, later founded Bad Boy Records, and pushed stars like B.I.G., Jay-Z, Mariah Carey, and Jennifer Lopez, making hundreds of millions of US dollars.

In recent years, he had ventured into business and investment, doing some unsavory acts.

Despite his still significant status in the rap game, his influence wasn’t what it used to be, and the younger generation of rappers, including 50 Cent, didn’t really respect him much.

"Heh heh, Sean, you mentioned in your lyrics that rappers are no good," 50 Cent said with a laugh.

"Fuck off! Don’t think you can strut around here just because you’ve sold a few tens of millions of albums. If it weren’t for me paving the way, you’d all be nothing but vermin living in the slums, a bunch of broke asses. You should be grateful to me, got it?"

Puff Daddy pointed his gun at a few people, his face wearing a displeased expression.

"Sean, put the gun away, we’re all homies here."

Jay-Z said, frowning.

Puff Daddy snorted and said, "Your turn," before sitting back down on the sofa, crossing his legs, and tapping his shin with the gun barrel.

"Em, don’t get pissed. Come and sit down; let’s have a talk," Jay-Z said soothingly to Eminem.

Eminem shook his head, took a step back, glanced around the room at everyone, and said with disdain, "Jess, we’re friends, so let me give you a piece of advice—don’t hang with these guys. There’s no good in it. See ya!"

Eminem pulled the hoodie over his head and left without looking back.

The faces of Jay-Z, Puff Daddy, and the others turned dark.

"Jess, Em’s right. You’re worth hundreds of millions of US dollars and have a good wife like Beyonce; we all envy you like crazy. You really have no business messing with these cockroaches. What can they bring you? Bullshit!"

50 Cent quipped.

"Fuck! 50 Cent, what the fuck are you talking about? Believe it or not, I’ll bust your fucking mouth?"

Puff Daddy cursed, gun in hand.

The four remaining in the room—Josie Epstein, Peter Peltz, David Zakman, and Luther Detsky—all had stern faces and glared at him angrily.

50 Cent chuckled, whipped out a revolver from behind his back, waved it around and said, "I’ve got this toy too. Let’s not scare each other."

Seeing that he too had a gun, Puff Daddy and the others held their breath, their anger fading from their faces.

Peter Peltz, David Zakman, and Luther Detsky exchanged glances, deeply regretting coming to a black bar where it was clearly no place for white men to thrive.

"50 Cent, put the gun away. We’re all friends here; there’s no need for this."

Jay-Z said.

"Alright, as you wish."

50 Cent shrugged, put away his gun, flashed a grin at the people in the room and shouted, "Em, wait for me!" before running downstairs.

Drake and Chris Brown scratched their heads. They came looking for fun but had unintentionally walked into an awkward situation.

"Don’t talk about what you just heard, got it?"

Jay-Z said.

"Alright, we didn’t hear a thing."

Drake and Chris Brown shrugged and then left the corridor.

Jay-Z stood at the door for a few seconds with a stern face, then turned and said, "Em and Link are pretty tight. He’s heard our plan and might tell Link. With Link on alert, he might not fall for it again. Should we try something else?"

"Don’t worry. Just like sex, drugs, and booze, once you’re hooked, you can’t quit. Even if Link is cautious, it doesn’t matter. As long as we’re crafty about it and find some hot girls, there’s no way he won’t bite," Josie Epstein said with experience.

"Good, next let’s discuss how to divide Link’s music assets. It’s a big pie worth four or five hundred million. I haven’t had a slice of cake that big in a while," Peter Peltz said excitedly.

Puff Daddy laughed and nodded, instructing two of his men to stand guard at the door before closing it again.