1463-1464

Chapter 1463: The Bond of Trust 

“Just tell me what’s going on. Give me the truth—I can handle it, I promise.” 

“Dustin, seriously, I don’t know what’s happening either. I’m just as clueless as you are.” 

“But you saw Anson, right? A living, breathing Anson who talks, cracks jokes, and roasts people? He showed up at Warner Records—our company?” 

“Yeah…” 

In Mike Donovan’s office, Dustin Thorne was grilling him for details. 

To be honest, he’d already gone over these details a million times and knew them inside out. But anxiety and unease had a chokehold on him, his heart pounding like crazy. He couldn’t help himself—he had to keep double-checking, over and over again. 

This time, though, the conversation got cut short by the sound of the door swinging open. 

Instinctively, Dustin whipped around. The second he saw that figure, even with a baseball cap pulled low, he recognized him instantly. 

It was Anson Wood. 

Driven by some gut feeling, some unstoppable urge, Dustin didn’t hesitate. He charged forward, closing the distance in two quick strides— 

Anson spotted the figure barreling toward him and broke into a grin. “Hey, Dustin…” 

But before he could finish, Dustin sped up—faster and faster—until he was a blur of motion, like a fireball hurtling straight at him. Anson didn’t even have a chance to react. 

Smack. 

A hug. 

Dustin wrapped his arms around Anson, squeezing tight with every ounce of strength he had. His body trembled faintly, uncontrollably. No words were needed—the rush of excitement, the tangle of emotions, the joy, the relief—it all poured out naturally, more powerful than anything he could’ve said. 

One second, two seconds— 

A rustling commotion stirred outside the office, growing louder, bubbling up like boiling water. The whole floor seemed to vibrate faintly. 

The door slowly swung shut, muffling the noise, but it didn’t fully die down. If anything, the rumbling energy felt even more intense. 

That’s when Mike finally snapped out of it. “Dustin, are you insane?” 

“Let go of Anson! Don’t act like some sixteen-year-old fangirl meeting her idol. God, please tell me you’re not about to cry. Don’t embarrass us like that, okay?” 

But as soon as the words left his mouth, Mike faltered, clearing his throat to cover his own guilt. 

Downstairs, just moments ago, he hadn’t exactly been much different from Dustin. 

Dustin came to his senses too, loosening his grip and stepping back half a pace. He looked Anson up and down, as if finally confirming it was really him. Only then did he let out a long breath. 

No tears—Dustin wasn’t that far gone—but his eyes were noticeably red around the edges. 

He didn’t bother hiding it, wearing his emotions openly and unapologetically. 

“That’s what you call being real,” Dustin shot a sharp glance at Mike. “Us music folks wear our hearts on our sleeves. You business types wouldn’t get it.” 

Mike: … 

A flicker of amusement danced in Anson’s eyes. “Honestly, I thought the same thing. But downstairs, Mike showed me a different side…” 

“Anson!” Mike yelped, cutting him off. 

His voice boomed, loud enough to draw every eye in the room to him. 

Mike coughed awkwardly, scrambling to change the subject. “Dustin, why’d you even come up here? Anson and I have stuff to discuss. If you’re just here to catch up, you can wait.” 

“Catch up? Who’s catching up with you? I came up here specifically to nab Anson,” Dustin fired back without holding anything back. “No matter the cost, we need to lock him down for a new contract. At least three albums—no, five albums—no, wait, I think ten…” 

He trailed off, losing confidence mid-sentence, and turned to Anson with a questioning look. 

Anson gave a small shake of his head. 

Dustin blinked. “Too many?” 

Anson nodded. “Too many.” 

Dustin studied him. “Okay, eight… five… or three?” 

He dialed it down under Anson’s steady gaze, but when he hit three, he dug in his heels. That was his limit—any less, and it wasn’t happening. 

This time, Dustin shook his head firmly, ignoring Anson’s silent nudge. He turned back to Mike with resolve. “At least five.” 

Anson: ??? What happened to three? 

“We’ve got to hold onto a talent like Anson. Guys like him—geniuses like him—are rare these days, got it? We need to keep him at all costs. I know you suits are all about the numbers, the profits, the bottom line. I don’t get your math games, but I do know Anson’s talent can’t be measured by some stupid digits.” 

“There’s only one Anson…” 

Mike cut in, “Dustin, chill!” 

“No way I’m chilling! Screw chilling! You guys keep scheming and calculating, and what’s it gotten us? Nothing! All I know is we can’t let Anson slip through our fingers.” 

“Mike, last time we went to LA to see Anson, we took a risk—and it paid off with Midsummer Night. You shot up the ladder because of it. And now, what, you’re hemming and hawing about renewing his contract?” 

“That’s not gonna fly…” 

“Dustin…” Mike tried again. 

“Calculate, calculate, calculate! You so-called smart people sit up there looking down on everyone, pulling strings from behind your fancy desks, controlling people’s lives. But what have you even figured out?” 

“It’s been months since the Grammys, and you still haven’t given Anson a straight answer. Forget Anson—I’m starting to feel let down myself.” 

Dustin was off on a tangent now, words spilling out like a runaway train in a Hollywood blockbuster—no brakes, picking up speed, totally out of control. Rambling, incoherent, saying whatever popped into his head. He probably didn’t even know what he was saying anymore. It was a full-on train wreck unfolding right in front of them. 

Mike took a deep breath—you could practically hear his lungs straining. “Dustin!” 

Finally, silence. 

Dustin shut his mouth but kept glaring at Mike, refusing to back down an inch. 

“That’s why Anson’s here today,” Mike said. “We’re talking about a collaboration. He’s working on his solo album.” 

The room went dead quiet. 

Every pair of eyes locked onto Anson. No one spoke. You couldn’t even hear breathing or heartbeats. 

Dustin stared at him, dazed and dumbfounded, his gaze pleading for confirmation. The intensity of his emotions was so raw it bordered on desperation. 

Compared to the cutthroat games of the movie industry, the music world seemed… 

No, no, that had to be an illusion. The music and movie industries were just as bad as each other—just with slightly different flavors of chaos. 

A faint smile tugged at Anson’s lips before he pressed it back down. “Don’t mind me. You guys keep going.” 

“Keep hashing it out. Looks like I can just name my price now, you know? Contract terms—I think I should bump up my asking rate.” 

“Dustin, I don’t know about you, but numbers matter to me too.” 

Mike couldn’t hold it in; a grin crept into his eyes. 

Dustin wasn’t in the mood for jokes. “Anson, for real? Is that guy telling the truth? Are you actually working on a solo album?” 

Looking at Dustin—and Mike—Anson felt certain he’d made the right call sticking with this label instead of shopping around. 

Chapter 1464: A Collaborative Stance 

The room was thick with eager, burning gazes— 

A single look from them was like a tiny sun, radiating heat so intense it almost scorched the skin. Their anticipation was blatant, no attempt to hide it. 

It wasn’t just Mike and Dustin. Even the assistant, who’d been trying to shrink into the background and stay unnoticed, was holding their breath. They didn’t dare swallow, afraid the tiniest sound might give them away. 

The pressure swallowed Anson whole. 

He raised an eyebrow, his eyes flicking between Mike and Dustin with a questioning glance. “So, is this a coordinated act?” 

“One playing the good cop, the other the bad cop?” 

This was the game of fame and fortune, and they were at Warner Records, after all. Never underestimate their knack for scheming and strategy. 

What if they’d staged this whole thing on purpose? Or maybe Dustin was clueless, and Mike had leaked the word just to rile him up, setting the scene to push Anson into renewing his contract? 

Anson wouldn’t be shocked. 

Dustin stared at him, practically vibrating with urgency. “No, no, no…” 

He stumbled over his words, tripping over himself in his haste, barely coherent. 

Anson shifted his gaze to Mike, a faint smirk tugging at his eyes. “Even if it was, I wouldn’t mind. At least it’d mean you guys care.” 

You had to look at things from the surface and beneath it. No need to toss out every bit of calculation and maneuvering just because it’s there. But in the end, it all came down to sincerity. 

Mike blinked, his thoughts spinning for a moment before he let out a quiet laugh— 

Anson really wasn’t like anyone else. 

In just two short exchanges, he’d effortlessly taken control of the situation, staying cool as a cucumber in the middle of this rushed, chaotic mess. 

No wonder he’d clawed his way out of Hollywood’s cutthroat jungle. 

Suddenly, Mike found himself looking forward to it—“Anson vs. Sony Columbia.” That matchup was going to be something. Sony Columbia probably hadn’t realized yet what kind of force they’d tangled with. 

No, scratch that—they’d probably figured it out already. But their arrogance and confidence kept them from taking Anson seriously. They were the titans at the top of Hollywood’s pyramid, and Anson was just an actor, right? They were still dead certain they held all the cards. 

Honestly, Mike figured Sony Columbia had the upper hand too. “Individual vs. Capital”? No contest, usually. 

But now, he had a hunch—maybe Anson had cracked open a sliver of a chance. 

Things were starting to get interesting. 

Anson had no clue about the connections firing off in Mike’s head. Meanwhile, Dustin was staring at Mike, his face a bundle of nerves. “Mike, aren’t you gonna say something? Clear up the misunderstanding? God!” 

Before Dustin could ramble on, Anson cut in, nipping the suspense in the bud with a slight nod. “Yeah.” 

Dustin’s voice died mid-sentence. He froze, staring at Anson like a deer in headlights, completely blank. 

Anson frowned a little, worried Dustin might’ve short-circuited. He added, “The writing—it’s just in progress. Not done yet.” 

“And I didn’t get a chance to tell Mike earlier, but my solo album… the style and vibe might not be what you’re expecting. It’s not just a little different—it’s a pretty big shift. I’m not sure if you’ll like it or if you’ll even be on board. It’s a bit of a risk.” 

“But.” 

“I’d still love for you guys to be the first to hear it. Whether you like it or not, I want you to share in some of my feelings about music.” 

“After all, you’ve put up with a lot from me over the past year and a half. I’m not sure if this counts as payback, but it’s at least a little something from me.” 

The words barely landed before Dustin sprang into action. 

He lunged forward, arms wide, wrapping Anson in a bear hug so tight it felt like he was pouring every ounce of emotion through his grip. 

“Thank you,” Dustin said. 

“Thank you. God, seriously, thank you. I’ve been so worried you might be upset. We’ve gotten so much from August 31st, and you’ve never asked us for anything. It’s not fair—even if that’s just how the record biz works, it’s still not fair.” 

“Thank you for still having that pure heart. Thank you for still believing in music.” 

Anson: ??? 

Was there some kind of misunderstanding here? 

Over this stretch, Anson had pretty much had Warner Records at his beck and call. The European tour? The Grammy performance? Done. Refusing to shoot music videos? Pushing unconventional promo ideas? They’d said yes to it all. Not to mention August 31st’s sudden breakup. 

But in Dustin’s eyes, Warner was the one taking advantage of Anson? Did Mike—and the company behind him—see it that way too? 

Maybe this was the real secret to a solid partnership? 

Before Anson could respond, Dustin let go, stepping back and looking up at him with bright, shining eyes. “So, what kind of music have you been working on?” 

Classic Dustin—always about the music. No matter what else was going on, that was his number one. 

“You got the master with you?” Dustin glanced around, practically vibrating as he fought the urge to dig through Anson’s pockets himself. 

Anson waved him off. “No, no—I really just stopped by. I wasn’t even sure I’d catch Mike today…” 

Dustin didn’t let him finish. “No worries, don’t stress! Let’s head to the studio now.” He was already moving, chattering away. “So, tell me—what’s inspiring you? If it’s a solo album, what new stuff are you trying out?” 

Creak. 

The office door swung open, and instantly, you could hear the whole floor outside rustling—like groundhogs scurrying back into their burrows. 

The second they caught the words “solo album,” every ear perked up. 

A quick scan of the office showed it was packed—every cubicle had at least two people crammed in, buzzing with excitement. But there was no clacking of keyboards, no phone chatter, no hum of the copier. Just a bunch of faces tilted, straining to catch Dustin’s every word. 

It was kind of hilarious. 

Anson pressed his lips together, keeping quiet to avoid spilling anything. 

Dustin, though? Totally unbothered. He was in his own world, happily asking and answering his own questions, a complete chatterbox—nothing like his usual self. 

Mike hurried to catch up, falling into step beside Anson. He shot a glance at the animated Dustin. “Sorry, forgive him.” 

“We’ve… been waiting for you.” 

That simple line carried so much weight. The sincerity slipped out, unguarded, peeling back Mike’s professional mask for a second to reveal his real feelings. 

Sure, in the business world, a company like Warner Records put profit first—always. That was a fact. But for Mike and Dustin, it wasn’t that cut-and-dry. 

Anson caught it and gave Mike a second look. “Oh, the pressure.” 

Mike picked up on Anson’s teasing tone—echoes of the Spider-Man 2 vibe—and a smile crept into his eyes. “What can I say? You’re Anson Wood. The one and only Anson Wood.”