1612-1614

Chapter 1612: Breaking the Ice 

Rust realized he’d lost his composure, but he could hardly contain his shock— 

Asa Dailey, senior partner and veteran agent at Creative Artists Agency. 

Back in the day, after Michael Ovitz and his crew broke away from William Morris to start their own venture, they recruited a handful of agents, including Brian Swordstorm, Steven Spielberg’s agent; Nancy Nye, Tom Hanks’ agent; and the man standing before him, Asa Dailey, the one who discovered Keanu Reeves, Sandra Bullock, and Jennifer Lopez. 

Though they weren’t among the five founding partners, they were undeniably cornerstone figures, holding unique and pivotal roles within the company. 

Around the turn of the millennium, the agency had offered Asa the CEO position, but he turned it down. 

Brian Swordstorm and Nancy Nye also declined, mainly because they were busy launching their own production companies, taking on entrepreneurial roles outside their agent duties to carve out new paths. But Asa was different. He passed on management roles and stayed active on the front lines. 

Asa was charming and refined, thriving on building relationships and negotiating deals. He had no grand ambitions—he simply loved the work. 

Because of this, while agents like Brian and Nancy were heavyweights at Creative Artists, everyone knew their focus wasn’t solely on the agency. They kept their names tied to the company largely for its network and resources. 

Asa, however, was a different story. 

He held a critical position within the agency. Though he didn’t currently represent any A-list stars, Hollywood’s ever-flowing resources—whether projects, connections, or insider info—were all within his grasp. Even the current top executives went out of their way to show him respect. 

After all, Creative Artists operated differently from other agencies. 

At other firms, an agent’s status and value hinged entirely on the star power of their clients. But at Creative Artists, it was a team effort. Resources were shared freely, like a basketball team pooling their energy to drive the company forward. 

So, whether an agent had a megastar on their roster didn’t matter—Creative Artists’ top talent was everyone’s client. An agent’s real strength lay in their ability to open doors, build networks, and integrate resources. That was the true measure of their skill and confidence. 

Rumor had it that Creative Artists was gearing up to launch a new department— 

A financing division. 

The agency was already famous in Hollywood for its “package deals,” bundling directors, writers, and actors for a single project, like the cast of Friends being packaged to push a show, or the Apatow crew being bundled cost-effectively to boost a film. 

Building on this model, Creative Artists was taking it a step further. The financing division would provide consulting and project integration services for investors and producers, offering guidance on business strategies, project selection and packaging, company mergers and acquisitions, international distribution, and resource connections. 

Asa was the rumored frontrunner to lead this new venture. 

In terms of qualifications and ability, Asa was unmatched, with no real competitors. The only question was whether he’d agree to take the role—the decision was his. 

In short, Asa was an agent, but far from an ordinary one. 

So when Rust spotted Asa here, his surprise was genuine, bordering on disbelief. 

Though he hadn’t spoken yet, Rust’s subconscious was already piecing things together— 

Maybe it was because he realized Asa’s presence here wasn’t a coincidence that he was so stunned. 

Sure enough! 

Following Asa’s gaze, Rust’s neck and shoulder muscles tensed, and a chill ran down his spine, making the hairs on his back stand on end. 

“Sorry, I’m late,” Asa said. 

A polite chuckle came from behind. “Sorry, I’m early. I swear, I wasn’t trying to pressure you into showing up on time.” 

The lighthearted jab drew an elegant, hearty laugh from Asa. “The birds sent word, so I ran two red lights. I’ll send you the tickets later.” 

“Deal, I’ve got you covered.” The back-and-forth was breezy and comfortable. 

Only then did Asa turn to Rust. “Hey, James, morning! You two didn’t plan to show up here for a duel, did you?” 

Rust forced a smile, though it felt a bit strained. “Too bad you’re a step late and missed the show. I’ll give you the spoiler: I got crushed. Here’s hoping Century City doesn’t start spreading stories.” 

Finally turning, Rust caught a glimpse of Edgar, who’d been seated the whole time, now standing tall and lean. “Looks like I missed some drama too,” Edgar said. “But sadly, I’ve got to run, or I’d be the one grabbing popcorn to watch the next act.” 

Just as Rust had suspected, Asa’s visit was for Edgar! 

His eyes darted meaningfully between Edgar and Asa, but Rust played it cool. After a brief exchange, he turned and left. 

The fact that Edgar and Asa were meeting openly, without hiding, meant they were prepared. Even if Rust stayed, he likely wouldn’t glean anything useful and might only reveal his own unease. Better to make a quick exit. 

But what was going on? 

Edgar? Asa? 

His first instinct was that Edgar might be negotiating a groundbreaking, industry-shaking contract for Anson. William Morris alone might not have the clout, so they’d need to team up with the top five agencies, like when they banded together to secure Jim Carrey’s $20 million club deal, pressuring the studios. 

At this moment, the agencies’ interests aligned—they’d want to collaborate. 

But the thought lingered only briefly before Rust dismissed it. If that were the case, Edgar and Asa wouldn’t meet so openly. They’d coordinate quietly behind the scenes to keep Sony Columbia from sensing the looming threat. 

Could it be that Forest Films’ new project needed financing, so they tapped Creative Artists? 

But what about William Morris? 

Sure, William Morris had fierce internal rivalries, but for Anson’s project, they’d set aside differences and join forces, right? 

Or maybe Edgar was using Creative Artists to stir buzz, pressuring William Morris to sweeten his contract renewal terms? 

But Edgar didn’t actually want to leave William Morris, so he staged this public meeting as a sort of power play? 

Then why would a seasoned player like Asa go along with being used? He’d surely see through Edgar’s intentions. The only explanation was that Asa had his own agenda, playing along for his own gain. 

So, what was Asa after? 

Chapter 1613: Sudden Storm 

Countless thoughts and possibilities stormed through Edgar's mind like a tidal wave. 

He couldn’t help but stop at the side of the road, glancing back at Edgar and Asha, who were chatting and laughing under the California sun. Their relaxed demeanor, the way they openly welcomed curious stares with no sign of hiding anything—it made him pause. 

Maybe… maybe they were just overthinking things? 

Maybe Edgar and Asha really were just catching up as friends. Maybe they had nothing to hide, and their openness simply reflected that. And maybe it was people like him, agents so used to scheming and playing the fame game, who were letting their paranoia run wild? 

No. 

No way. 

In Hollywood, there’s no such thing as coincidence. Sure, maybe there's a 0.1% chance something is just random—nothing is ever absolute. But when it involves Edgar and Asha, right at the critical moment when Spider-Man 2 is dominating the box office and making history? 

That 0.1% chance is as good as zero. 

Taking a deep breath, Rast shook off the thoughts, got back into his car, and drove off without looking back. 

From where Asha sat, he noticed and lifted his chin slightly, eyes twinkling as he looked at Edgar. 

“You sure there’s really nothing going on, kid?” 

Edgar’s lips curled into a faint smile. “This is Century City. There are eyes everywhere. Even if we tried to keep it quiet, people would still find out. Unless we took a trip to Alaska or something, maybe then we’d get some peace and quiet.” 

Asha let out a hearty laugh. “So that’s your play? Instead of hiding, you decided to make a public appearance in the middle of Century City? Just to mess with William Morris?” 

Edgar stayed calm. “Look, no matter what I do, they’re going to be suspicious. So why not just play into it and be completely transparent? It’s not like we have anything to hide.” 

Asha shook his head. “I don’t buy it.” 

“Your real plan is this: since they’re going to overanalyze everything anyway, why not muddy the waters even more? You even pulled James into this.” 

“Right now, I bet Century City’s buzzing with a hundred and one theories.” 

James Rast? 

That part was a surprise. Edgar swore he had no idea Rast would be there. 

Still, he didn’t deny it. “So what now? Are we really gonna sit here and talk about Century City politics? Or has CAA suddenly gotten self-conscious about its reputation?” 

Casual, but sharp. 

Asha chuckled. “Relax, kid. No need to get aggressive. If I cared about optics, I wouldn’t even be here today. Don’t forget—I’m the one who reached out to you.” 

Edgar smirked. “You’re not the only one who did.” 

Asha faked a disappointed sigh. “Oh? But the rest of them have kept it tight. Not a single leak. Doesn’t that seem a little unfair to us folks at CAA?” 

Edgar tilted his head. “I wouldn’t say it’s that tight.” In other words, Asha had already heard the rumors long before this. 

Asha didn’t argue. “Which is why we don’t have time to waste. Let’s start with the first question—how confident are you in Anson?” 

On the surface, it looked like a casual conversation. No raised voices, no whispered tones. Just two people chatting over breakfast, like they were discussing the weather. 

In reality, they were calmly trading power plays, talking life-or-death moves out in the open. Anyone trying to eavesdrop caught nothing but small talk. Watching their faces for clues? Useless. 

Edgar just smiled as he watched Asha. 

Now he was certain—this was the right move. 

Their breakfast was light, pleasant, full of laughter and friendly chatter. 

Neither of them tried to hide what they were doing. They spoke openly under the curious gazes of other customers, the waitstaff, even the people who kept walking past their table pretending to go to the restroom. 

Still, the conversation remained light and open. No cryptic phrases, no sudden topic changes, no awkward silences. To any bystander, they were just chatting about movies, box office numbers, and the usual Spider-Man buzz. 

Just like anyone else in that café. 

Once breakfast wrapped up, Edgar was the first to leave. Asha stayed behind to enjoy a bit more sunshine. As confused and curious onlookers watched, Edgar calmly and confidently drove off. 

Ten minutes later, Edgar had arrived at the William Morris office building. 

As one of Hollywood’s Big Five agencies, the William Morris building sat on prime real estate in Century City. At just twelve stories, it wouldn't turn heads in New York or Chicago, but in L.A., surrounded by studio giants like Paramount, Warner Bros., Sony-Columbia, and Universal, it stood as a testament to the agency’s long history. 

“Mr. Cook! Mr. Cook!” 

As Edgar entered the parking lot, the garage attendant popped out of a corner, looking a little too eager. 

Edgar rolled down his window, smiling warmly. But before he could say anything, the attendant leaned in and lowered his voice. 

“Mr. Cook, something’s going on upstairs. They just called six security guards to the sixth floor.” 

Sixth floor? 

That was Edgar’s floor—his office was up there. 

His heart dropped. 

Without hesitating, he jumped out of the car and tossed the keys to the attendant. “Leave the engine running. I’ll be back in five. No—make it three minutes.” 

“Thanks.” 

Edgar patted him on the shoulder and sprinted toward the elevators, completely ignoring the fact that he was wearing a full suit and leather shoes. It felt awkward as hell, but he didn’t care. 

Huff. Huff. 

His lungs were on fire by the time he slammed the elevator button. As soon as the doors opened, he darted out. 

The sixth floor looked normal—busy as always. But something felt... tight. Everyone looked laser-focused on their work, heads down, afraid to move. You could practically see the tension in their shoulders. 

From a distance, Edgar spotted it. 

A wall of security guards blocking the entrance to his office. 

His heart sank. 

It had barely been a year since he moved into that office—from a shared space with eight other people to his very own room with floor-to-ceiling windows. His career was finally gaining momentum. He even had a dedicated assistant with a desk and direct line right outside. 

And now? Six guards. His assistant looked like she was about to cry, standing at the door in a panic, not knowing what to do. 

Then she turned and spotted Edgar. 

Her expression said it all. 

Chapter 1614: Thunderous Force 

At a certain moment, Edgar felt like nothing more than an object—cheap, bare, carelessly and indifferently tossed into the center of an office, left there for everyone to see. 

Just standing there, for the briefest instant, Edgar felt especially exposed and vulnerable, like he had gone back to three years ago when he had nothing. 

Insignificant. Like an ant. 

Edgar had thought through the consequences of meeting with a representative from Creative Artists thoroughly. He knew someone like William Morris’s Brian Swarthmore wouldn’t compromise easily. But like he said himself, secrets don’t stay buried forever. In Hollywood, there are no 100% secrets—there’s just no way to keep something completely under wraps. 

Especially when it's not just Creative Artists involved. The more agencies in the mix, the greater the risk of a leak. 

So rather than act shady and paranoid, it made more sense to be open and straightforward. After all, this was Hollywood. Talent agencies might compete, but they weren't enemies. Century City was tiny—you were bound to run into someone like Edgar bumping into Rust all the time. 

In some ways, Edgar believed that his meeting with Asher would stir up speculation but stay just ambiguous enough to cause confusion. 

Knowing Brian Swarthmore’s nature, suspicion and probing would surely follow—but he was the patient, calculating type who preferred to move in the shadows. So, at least for the short term, there shouldn’t be a direct confrontation. Besides, the real target was still Anson. To avoid alerting him too soon, William Morris would likely hold back for a while. 

Brian had always been known in the industry for his charm and smooth maneuvering. He had contacts in every major agency—friend or foe, he knew how to tap into those networks, gather intel, and do everything he could to block Edgar from making connections. It would be interesting to see how he fought back next. 

Chaos, Edgar thought, might actually work in his favor. 

He’d considered all the scenarios. He was ready for anything. 

But now? 

Now he felt like a worthless item put on display. All his tactics, all his games, all his careful calculations— 

—meant nothing in the face of absolute power. 

What he never expected was for Brian—always calm, composed, soft-spoken, a master of subtlety—to strike so suddenly, so decisively, and with such thunderous force. 

Edgar’s meeting with Asher had taken place barely thirty minutes ago, and yet Brian had already gotten wind of it—proof of just how strong his network was. What’s more, he didn’t even give Edgar a chance to respond. A storm of action came crashing down and completely shattered Edgar’s rhythm. 

Aggressive. Overwhelming. 

In Hollywood, you really can’t underestimate anyone. There’s always someone better, always someone stronger. 

“Edgar…” 

“Edgar!” 

The assistant’s voice snapped him back to reality. Her expression was wild with panic as she tried to warn him. 

Turning around, Edgar saw Brian striding in with a full entourage of agents—loud, intimidating, and dramatic. These were the big shots from the eleventh and twelfth floors, people who almost never came down to the sixth. Every assistant and agent froze, holding their breath. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a traitor in our midst.” 

Brian clapped mockingly for Edgar, smiling as usual, but there was no warmth in his eyes. 

“Let this traitor be a lesson to you all. Don’t betray William Morris. You don’t want to be our enemy.” 

The entire floor fell silent. You could practically hear the chill in the air. 

At that moment, Edgar became strangely calm. “Brian, you’re making a huge mistake.” 

Brian chuckled. “Funny, that’s exactly what Arthur Jensen said back in 1973. He was the first traitor William Morris ever dealt with. You should look him up, see where he is now.” 

“Let me help you—he’s selling car insurance now. Not even cars. Just insurance.” 

Edgar lifted his chin slightly. “Let me guess, is that a bedtime story your dad told you?” 

History is long. 1973 was a lifetime ago. Times have changed. 

“So, is this how you handled Michael Ovitz back then, too?” Edgar said casually—but the words hit like a dagger to Brian’s heart. 

When Ovitz and his crew left William Morris, nobody believed those kids could make anything of themselves. Even as Creative Artists began to rise, William Morris slept soundly, convinced they were still the top dog, untouchable. 

But now? 

Brian smiled. “So what, you think you’re the next Michael Ovitz?” 

“Is it because of Anson Wood?” 

It was meant to be a joke. Brian looked around, waiting for laughter—but no one joined in. The room went cold. 

Edgar smiled. “Would you say that to Anson’s face? Does William Morris not want him? Or do you want him and just can’t get him?” 

“Whether or not I become the next Michael Ovitz, who knows. But we both know—” 

“—you’re definitely not.” 

With that, Edgar calmly pulled out his wallet and keys, placing his ID badge, office keys, and business cards neatly on the desk. He looked Brian straight in the eyes. 

Slow and composed—not like someone being kicked out in disgrace. He made sure this final act was on his terms. 

Once everything was set down, Edgar looked at Brian with a spark in his eye. “Oh, right. I still have two years left on my contract. Please transfer my severance pay into my account.” 

“You know, it’s probably pocket change for William Morris—but for a nobody like me? That’s a lot of money.” 

“I could use it now that I’m unemployed.” 

Pfft. 

Someone in the office couldn’t hold back and burst out laughing. No one knew exactly how the box office bonuses for Spider-Man 2 were split between Edgar and William Morris, but it was clear Edgar wasn’t exactly strapped for cash. 

Still, Edgar looked completely serious. 

He turned and walked slowly toward the elevator. When he passed Brian, he stopped for a second and glanced at his old office. 

“You didn’t seriously think I left all my files in there, did you?” 

For an agent, what’s the real treasure? 

Contacts and resources. 

Especially back then, before smartphones and light laptops, most things were still stored on paper. An agent’s phonebook was one of their most valuable assets. 

Brian had locked down Edgar’s office hoping to keep those files and redistribute them to other agents—and to make an example out of him. 

Now, hearing Edgar’s words, the smile on Brian’s face froze. His chest tightened. 

He stared at Edgar. 

Edgar smiled sincerely. Then turned and walked away. 

A pause. 

“Edgar! Edgar… wait up!” 

His assistant came running after him, rushing into the elevator and panting, “C-Can I… can I go with you?” 

Back in the office, it was chaos. 

(End of Chapter)