"Alright, gentlemen,"
Lucas said with a broad smile, his voice carrying clearly through the room.
"Whether in process or outcome, this negotiation has been extremely pleasant."
"I'm very glad we were able to reach cooperative agreements. Everyone gets what they want."
"If there are no objections, I suggest your lawyers draft the contracts immediately so we can sign on the spot."
…
Half an hour later, the executives of the various corporate groups departed one after another, each carrying their freshly signed agreements.
Only Obadiah Stane and Tony Stark remained.
"Do you two still need something?" Lucas asked.
"I seem to recall hearing that you've been getting quite close to Lex," Obadiah adjusted his suit and asked casually.
"Yes," Lucas replied after taking a sip of water. "We've known each other for some time."
"Then allow me to offer some advice," Obadiah said seriously.
"You'd do well not to trust that man too much. Always keep your guard up."
"Otherwise, you may end up being used as his weapon without even realizing it."
Lucas said nothing—only smiled faintly.
He knew exactly what kind of person Lex was.
Of course, Obadiah himself was hardly any better.
With that, Obadiah stood up and left with Tony.
Tony didn't even spare Lucas a second glance.
At this stage, Tony's arrogance was still at its peak—he treated everyone with the attitude of a spoiled prodigy.
Lucas didn't mind.
Tony hadn't yet witnessed his true strength.
And ignorance, after all, bred fearlessness.
Besides, Lucas was in an excellent mood.
In less than half a day, he had secured a total of 860 million US dollars, all post-tax.
Not to mention the corporate shares transferred into his name.
By now, his net worth had officially surpassed one billion dollars.
A genuine billionaire.
"Brother, have they all left?"
Carrie walked downstairs, rubbing her sleepy eyes.
"Yes, they're gone," Lucas replied, settling back onto the sofa and pulling out his phone.
Elaine, meanwhile, began tidying up the living room on her own.
"Elaine, leave it," Lucas said.
"Maria will clean it up later."
Elaine shot him a look.
"I'll do it myself. It's nothing. I'm not some rich heiress or royal princess."
Lucas stroked his chin.
"What do you think all that hard work earning money is for, if not to enjoy life?"
Elaine carried the used cups to the sink as she spoke.
"I've seen children in this world who can't get enough to eat, can't afford clothes, can't go to school."
"If you have the ability, you should help more people. You're wealthy enough now."
She stood on a small stool and began washing the dishes.
Carrie followed along obediently, handing her cups.
Lucas lounged back with one leg crossed over the other, unconcerned.
"I don't see it the same way you do."
"Many of the children you're talking about are victims of their parents and elders."
"You donate money, and maybe they get a meal, a piece of clothing, or even a chance at education."
"But that's just an illusion."
Carrie tilted her head curiously.
"Why, brother? You said you donated money."
Lucas continued calmly:
"Say I donate ten million dollars to a charity."
"By the time it reaches the destination, maybe five million remains."
"Then after layers of corruption, what reaches the parents might be a few hundred dollars—or even less."
"And when they finally have money, the first thing they think about is food."
"When people can't even eat enough, who's thinking about clothes or education?"
Elaine frowned.
She knew Lucas wasn't wrong.
She had been there.
She had seen that poverty with her own eyes.
"They've been oppressed and controlled by colonizers for generations," Elaine argued firmly.
"You can't blame them like that."
Lucas sat upright and looked at both of them seriously.
"If we're talking about harsh environments, then let me tell you a fact."
"Hundreds of years ago, a nation that once led the world in culture and military power fell into decline under ignorant and brutal leadership."
"Sixty years ago, that nation was devastated by a country—cities in ruins, countless deaths."
"At that time, their situation was worse than much of Africa today."
"Disasters, famine, disease—none of it spared them."
"They were enslaved. They were tightly controlled."
"And yet—why were they able to rise again, surrounded by hostile powers, through unimaginable hardship?"
"Why, when everyone is human with two hands and two feet, do some possess a spirit of selfless dedication—even sacrificing themselves to illuminate others?"
"While in other places, even after hundreds of years, nothing has changed?"
Lucas's voice grew heavier.
"Elaine, weakness is often not a reason—it's an excuse."
"No people remain like this generation after generation unless that mindset is constantly passed down."
"There is always something hateful about the pitiful."
"Don't blindly believe only what you see."
Elaine fell silent.
She had studied human history.
She knew he was speaking facts.
Lucas spread his hands.
"Even their own people aren't willing to save their fellow countrymen."
"But isn't Africa's most developed country South Africa? And Egypt?" Elaine asked, confused.
Lucas sneered.
"What if I told you there's a country in Africa called Wakanda, whose technology and wealth surpass even America in certain areas?"
Elaine frowned.
"That's impossible. If that were true, why wouldn't they help their own people?"
Lucas sighed.
"Elaine, have you heard of vibranium?"
Elaine nodded.
"Yes. A rare metal—more valuable than gold or platinum. More expensive than diamonds of equal weight."
Lucas clicked his tongue.
"That metal comes from Wakanda."
"And they have as much of it as corn in a farmer's field."
"Yet even they have no intention of saving the African continent."
"So why should we be the fools who step in?"
This line of thought had taken root in Lucas ever since he watched Black Panther.
With Wakanda's strength and technology, even revealing themselves to the world wouldn't truly endanger them.
Yet they chose isolation—watching their own people die from hunger and disease.
All in the name of a self-deceiving 'protection policy'.
That kind of hypocrisy disgusted him.
Ding—
Lucas's phone chimed.
He paused slightly.
This was a unique notification tone—reserved for one specific person.
He unlocked the screen.
"Can we meet?"
---
Author's Note:
This is a personal interpretation of Wakanda as portrayed in the film, discussed strictly in terms of narrative logic and behavior.
No discrimination is intended.
Different opinions are welcome, but please avoid hostile or derogatory language.
___
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