1036-1040

*Chapter 1036: Piles of Bones*

"But friends are friends, and work is work, right?"

Anson said.

Always calm, always composed, always collected.

Kristen shook her head repeatedly, her knees weak and her whole body powerless. "No, I still can't do it. It makes me feel like we're lifeless robots."

"But we're not, right?"

"Anson, why aren't you angry? Are you some kind of Saint Mary?"

Anson chuckled softly. "Haha, for the record, I'm not. But..." He let out a long sigh. "Maybe it's because I don't hold onto hope."

"Expectations lead to disappointment, disappointment leads to despair, but without expectations, there's no pain."

A hint of bitterness, a trace of sighing.

Anson thought that after experiencing his past life and going through so much, he would be tough as steel, immune to hurt. But clearly, he still couldn't control it.

Kristen felt a similar bitterness on the tip of her tongue. "If it were you, what would you do?"

Anson had already composed himself and looked back at Kristen. "An opportunity to take a role from a friend—oh, an opportunity to become the villain. How could I pass it up?"

Kristen looked helpless. "Anson, I'm being serious."

Anson nodded. "I am serious too. I would fight for it, do my best."

Kristen could hardly believe her ears.

Anson continued, "But I would tell my friend. I've got this opportunity, and I don't want to miss it. I know how important it is for them, but it's equally important to me. I'm also yearning to build an acting career, so if the producer gives me the chance, I won't give it up for a friend. I'm not that noble, nor that kind."

"Next, we'll compete fairly. May the better performer get the role and take off, launching an acting career."

Kristen was stunned. Clearly, she hadn't expected such an answer.

Anson shrugged lightly. "And then you'll be condemned as a 'white lotus,' self-righteous, openly saying such shameless things."

"Some things don’t become grand just because you say them out loud. Placing personal interest above friendship is the truth, and dressing it up with pretty words still means you've taken everything for yourself."

"It's downright despicable."

Kristen couldn't hold it in and burst out laughing.

Back then, when Anson and James were competing for the role of "Spider-Man," they also talked openly and competed fairly, even ending up joining the same crew as partners. But that was an exception, an ideal situation.

Hollywood is ultimately a place of bones piled high—behind every glamorous success lies countless bodies and blood. In the face of interests, whether it's a fair competition or a stab in the back, personal emotions inevitably get hurt.

The contradiction remains unresolved.

But Kristen now had a slight epiphany. She could righteously refuse such opportunities, but she couldn't condemn Jack for trying to seize one.

Still, there was an uncomfortable feeling in her heart. Kristen looked at Anson. "Aha, you're definitely not Saint Mary."

Anson shrugged lightly. "I told you. Not only would I join the competition, but I'd also give it my all, fighting my way through this cutthroat fame game."

Kristen looked a little sorrowful. "Is it necessary to do it like this?"

Anson replied, "No."

The answer was so straightforward that Kristen was very surprised.

Anson continued, "You could also be like Keanu Reeves. Despite having opportunities to become a superstar, he insists on being himself, even staying away from Hollywood's spotlight, living life on his own terms, indifferent to money, fame, and glory. He's lost so much and endured many farewells, so he's learned to stay true to himself."

"The key is, we all need to take responsibility for our choices and bear the consequences."

"We can climb to the top of the pyramid by any means necessary, but we should muster the courage to face the outcome of being shunned by everyone. Or, we can choose to stay true to ourselves, learn to accept what we have, and enjoy it."

"Hey, dear Kristen, everything in this world comes at a price. When we gain something, we must lose something. Reality's confusion often lies in our greed—we want everything. We want our career and our friendship, success and a good reputation, and then we get stuck in our desires, unable to free ourselves."

Bit by bit, Kristen's lips curled into a smile—

Her mood brightened.

Even Kristen herself couldn't believe it; she was genuinely happy.

It was only now that Kristen realized those "what-ifs" earlier were just Anson's joke. "So, you wouldn't go after that opportunity, right?"

Anson responded, "I already said I would. The role of Peter Parker—I got it after competing with James."

Kristen shook her head. "That's different. That was an open competition, everyone had a fair shot. But this would mean taking a friend's role, especially when the friend is still recovering."

Kristen was indeed a smart girl. Though often seen as just a pretty face, she constantly thought about her career.

Anson didn't deny it anymore. "There are countless roles out there, but friends—real friends—are hard to come by in Hollywood."

Kristen added, "Real friends."

Hollywood is full of so-called friends. A fleeting encounter can turn into a friendship, and you can even claim to "know so-and-so" without sharing a drink.

There's a distinction between friends and real friends.

Anson laughed out loud. "Alright, real friends."

Kristen finally sorted out her thoughts, her mood lifting. "I know lots of people praise your looks, calling you handsome and charming. But has anyone ever said you're smarter than you seem?"

Anson thought about it seriously. "So, are you trying to confess? Sorry, Kristen, although I'm honored, you're not my type."

Kristen didn't respond but simply made a gesture: raising her right middle finger.

Kristen thought for a moment, then "Oh!" and raised her left middle finger too.

And flashed a brilliant smile.

"Haha, hahaha." Anson could no longer hold back, bursting into laughter.

Lucas, waiting outside, wasn't eavesdropping, but he could vaguely guess it had something to do with Jake Gyllenhaal.

Perhaps tomorrow or the day after at the latest, the news that Sony-Columbia was looking for Anson's replacement would be out—

There was no need for a leak because Sony-Columbia was racing against time. Every move they made was under the watch of the media and paparazzi. Plus, with their negotiations with different agencies and actors, it was hard to keep things under wraps, and the news was already out.

The only reason it hadn't been publicized yet was that the media was still gathering information, trying to see who was on Sony-Columbia's list of candidates.

Eve heard Jake Gyllenhaal's name and was a little surprised; she thought Kristen had recommended him to the crew, so she informed Lucas to remind Anson to be wary of being betrayed by friends.

Lucas had also been thinking about how to tell Anson, but he never knew how to bring it up.

But now, it seemed Lucas didn't need to worry anymore.

*Chapter 1037: Purgatory Ordeal*

"Who is besieging Anson Wood?"

"The distortion and degradation of Hollywood's entertainment industry."

"Who is using every possible means to 'create' news?"

In front of the computer screen, bathed in the faint blue glow, Harry Percy’s face could be vaguely seen:

Sometimes anxious, sometimes twisted, sometimes elated, sometimes dejected, sometimes laughing, sometimes enraged.

It was like he was going through a mental breakdown, experiencing drastic mood swings, unable to control himself.

There was a dark crowd, and every major media outlet and online forum was fixated on the "Anson Wood hospital break-in incident." While the investigation was in full swing, the discussions were rising to a new peak of attention.

One by one, people were acting as moral guardians, standing atop the high ground of righteousness and morality, passing judgment condescendingly. But Harry only found it laughable.

Because Harry knew, if the real inside story were exposed, it would be the same media that would immediately switch their stance, diving into follow-up reports. Morality and conscience simply didn't exist in the face of profit, and their righteous faces were just a reflection of the current trend.

Absurd.

Maybe the "New Yorker," with its consistent pride and aloofness, was one of the few exceptions.

"Amusing ourselves to death! Who exactly is crossing the line, disregarding life, all for the sake of a headline—

It's you. It's me. It's him. It's everyone. It's the whole society."

As a gathering place for intellectuals, the "New Yorker" did show some conscience. It didn't simply blame an individual but included itself, reflecting on the distortions of the entire era. Everyone got excited by gossip, thrilled by voyeurism, aroused by revelations—this culture of amusing ourselves to death was seeping into the bones and blood of society—

In the end, perhaps everyone would become both a perpetrator and a victim of this culture. When the avalanche happens, not a single snowflake is innocent.

The "New Yorker" ran a feature that spanned four pages, using the Anson Wood incident as a starting point to deeply analyze the illness of society, expressing profound concern for the future.

This sparked widespread discussions across various forums.

Netizens passionately offered suggestions, hoping to catch the real culprit, pushing the news to unprecedented levels of attention.

If he were to release the "Spider-Man" set suit photos now, the traffic would be unimaginable.

Only a fool would miss such a great opportunity.

However, if he released it, it wouldn't just mean giving Anson a weapon to strike back but also exposing himself to public scrutiny, and the potential backlash would be the real problem.

Harry wasn't foolish—he could foresee all these consequences.

As a result, he just sat there, holding a gold mine, staring blankly at the computer screen.

Damn. Damn it, damn it, damn it!

Annoyance, anger, and unease churned in his stomach, rolling around, unable to settle, as if he were being roasted over a blazing fire.

He hadn't slept for over forty hours. He was utterly exhausted, yet he still couldn't sleep. His mind seemed on the verge of exploding at any moment.

Then Harry saw a post—

"Doesn't Mount Sinai Hospital have surveillance cameras? I know there shouldn't be any inside the hospital, but what about outside? Or at the traffic lights nearby? There must be surveillance cameras around the hospital, right? Based on the time and location, could we possibly find a suspect from the footage?"

First reply: Genius!

Second reply: Yeah, yeah, the OP's idea is spot on. We should check the surveillance footage.

Third reply: Doesn't NYPD already know this? They might be sifting through footage as we speak.

Various discussions continued to unfold, with many eventually deviating from the original topic, but that one post sent chills down Harry’s spine, goosebumps screaming across his entire body.

Crap!

NYPD was one thing, but Anson's Polaroid photo was another.

How could he forget about that Polaroid photo?

That was solid evidence, undeniable proof! Once made public, it would be execution day!

In other words, his identity being exposed was only a matter of time.

What to do?

Harry grabbed his head with both hands, lightly banging his forehead against the desk, trying to calm himself down, though that was clearly no easy feat.

Damn it, damn it, damn it!

Wait, a lightbulb suddenly went off in Harry's mind, and he stopped banging his head.

Harry had a bold idea:

Why not just release the Spider-Man suit photos?

Of course, anonymously, posted on the TMZ website.

First, it would divert attention. People’s focus would shift easily. As long as there was fresh gossip, public attention would quickly move on, just like goldfish with seven-second memories, forgetting the hospital break-in incident entirely.

Second, it would create confusion. When people kept speculating about the suspect behind the break-in, the appearance of Spider-Man’s suit could muddy the waters, leading them to think:

Maybe these were two different people. Maybe different paparazzi were all chasing after Anson.

More precisely, "paparazzi" was a collective term; it was a group activity. There were likely not just one or two suspects but hundreds, maybe thousands. Instead of blaming one paparazzo, why not blame the entire group? Instead of holding one accountable, why not critique the whole culture?

Just like the "New Yorker" feature.

Third, and most importantly, this was his labor of love—

The latest suit from "Spider-Man 2."

Wasn’t that hook intriguing enough? Wasn’t it a big enough headline? He had worked so hard to capture that perfect moment, yet the masterpiece just sat in the shadows?

It was unacceptable.

The more he thought about it, the more he felt unwilling to let it go. Regret, anger, anxiety, hesitation—all these emotions rushed in, gnawing at his soul.

It might be the proudest work of his career, and it made Anson stumble hard, but he was the only one who could appreciate it?

What a waste.

He craved for people to see his work, for his photos to go viral. At a time when everyone was curious about the new Spider-Man suit, he not only provided an answer but gave a perfect one—complete with extra credit. How could it just stay buried?

Torment. Pain. Agony.

If hell really existed, Harry was sure he was in it right now.

Without realizing it, Harry closed his browser, and there on his computer desktop were his works—

Photos from the set of "Spider-Man 2," showing Anson soaring in the air, executing a high-difficulty leap, perfectly embodying the stance of Spider-Man. Even though the wires were visible, it didn’t break the illusion; instead, it was astounding. The fact that those shots weren’t CGI but real stunts was mind-blowing.

Not just the suit, but the entire vibe and atmosphere were also flawless.

It was his creation—his piece of art. And no one could see it?

"Post it. Post it. Post it!"

The angel and the demon wrestled in his mind, the demon’s whispers resonating in his ears, the adrenaline gradually lighting a fire, and before he knew it, his right hand was reaching for the mouse.

Like a moth to a flame.

Now Harry finally understood what that felt like. Even knowing the outcome, even with reason holding the reins, the impulse was impossible to resist.

Click.

The mouse clicked softly, and the TMZ website updated.

*Chapter 1038: Anonymous Release*

Morning, overcast.

Even though it's summer now, New York is still its typical self—a sunless morning that dampens the mood, with people rushing through the city like zombies, their bodies moving mechanically.

Nicholas Flynn was one of them, yawning widely and realizing a moment too late that he was in a public place. He worried about ruining his image, but after glancing around, he saw no one cared, which made him feel better.

He ordered an espresso at the coffee shop, with a little extra rum—

Don't ask why he was consuming alcohol first thing in the morning. The answer was three sleepless nights writing an analysis of the 2003 summer box office for The New York Times. At this point, Red Bull was coursing through his veins.

Standing by the counter, waiting for his espresso, Nicholas began to drift off, his consciousness floating into space in those brief seconds.

Out of the corner of his eye, Nicholas unintentionally caught sight of something.

Was that… wait, was that… Spider-Man? But, why?

Though he was busy, the news about Anson was everywhere, and Nicholas couldn’t miss it. He wasn’t surprised to see Spider-Man making headlines, but what caught his attention was the image—

The current focus was on Anson, so news coverage usually featured his photos, not a masked Spider-Man with no visible face.

And there, in front of him, the news used a photo of Spider-Man flying through the air, which was unusual.

Could it be news from the Spider-Man 2 set?

Instinctively, Nicholas looked again, not thinking much at first, but as he saw the photo, he slowly felt a sense of shock.

As he watched the person in front of him switch pages on their laptop, Nicholas could no longer hold back. He stepped forward.

"Sorry to bother you. I accidentally caught a glimpse of your screen, really sorry, but that…"

It was a young man who looked like a college student, who waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, the new suit from Spider-Man 2. Are you a fan too?"

Nicholas: “…Spider-Man's new suit? How did that leak? Wasn't it supposed to be kept under wraps?"

The young man wasn't surprised. "All the paparazzi are watching them—it’s basically a war between the crew and the media. As expected, the paparazzi won."

Just as Harry Percy had predicted, people naturally assumed this was the collective work of paparazzi. The term "paparazzi" had become synonymous with a group effort, no longer focused on one individual.

However, Nicholas was different—his journalistic instincts picked up something unusual.

Timing. The timing felt off.

At this crucial moment, a paparazzi leak of the Spider-Man suit? Something wasn't right.

"Who leaked it?" Nicholas looked at the laptop screen.

The young man looked puzzled, as if to say, "Does it matter?" When reading gossip, who pays attention to the names of the reporters or photographers? Who cares about which paparazzo leaked the news?

Still, the young man answered, "TMZ."

Nicholas said, "TMZ is just a platform. The key is who took the photo and how they got it."

As he browsed through it, Nicholas grew more and more astonished—

Not only was it detailed, but the angle was perfect. It could almost be mistaken for an official behind-the-scenes photo.

Yet, Nicholas didn't think it was official, for a very simple reason: there were too few photos, and they were all from a single angle—clearly the work of a hidden camera. Still, he had to admit they were impressive.

Marvin Daniel.

Nicholas glanced at the name credit and searched his memory—

No match.

It was a completely unfamiliar name, at least to Nicholas. But then again, the paparazzi world had countless talents hiding in the shadows. He couldn't know them all, and an occasional unknown name wasn't unusual.

However, Nicholas was sure of one thing: these photos would explode, stirring up more interest than anyone imagined.

Working at The New York Times, this type of gossip wasn't usually in his purview, and when he came across it, it was just in passing. But this time, Nicholas had a sense that something was amiss, a storm was brewing.

But why?

Nicholas frowned. The timing was too coincidental, one event after another. Could it be…

Suddenly, inspiration struck.

Nicholas grasped at a fleeting thought—could the photos be related to Anson’s injury? But how?

“Nicholas. Nick! Your espresso is ready.”

A voice from behind brought him back. His brain was spinning at full speed; the cafe noise swirled around, becoming a torrent that rushed through his mind.

He turned abruptly, made his way to the counter, grabbed the small cup of espresso, and downed it in one gulp. The scorching liquid nearly burned his throat, but he couldn’t be bothered. In a flash, he rushed out of the cafe, disappearing into the crowd.

The cafe staff and customers were briefly surprised, but then shrugged it off, as if this kind of scene wasn’t unusual. Life quickly resumed its calm.

Everything unfolded as Nicholas expected:

It swept the internet.

A massive, overwhelming tide.

In the pre-social media era, it was harder to feel the impact of viral news. But if the same story appeared across major news outlets, websites, TV, and radio, saturating every possible corner, the effect was much the same.

“It’s here! Finally, the new suit from Spider-Man 2 is revealed.”

“Big news of the year! Peter Parker’s new suit unveiled.”

“New Spider-Man suit—tighter, sleeker, and even cooler.”

“From Dior to Spider-Man—Anson Wood rocks the new look.”

“Things can’t get better—Anson Wood’s new costume is coming in Spider-Man 2.”

So, what does “everywhere” mean?

Leaving home, newsstands by the street, department store TV walls, radio in a taxi, the chatter in breakfast joints—everything was about the new Spider-Man 2 suit. Even the newspapers in passengers’ hands on the subway featured the story. There was no escaping it.

In the literal sense, it was everywhere, with no room to breathe.

The new Spider-Man 2 suit was a hot topic to begin with, and after Anson's injury, the production's halt, and incidents involving a stranger sneaking into the hospital, the buzz had reached new heights.

Even the likes of The New Yorker, usually impervious to gossip, joined in on the discussion.

And now, things escalated further—Peter Parker's new suit had been leaked, setting off an explosion across the media. It spiraled out of control.

Everywhere, it infiltrated people’s lives.

It even made people suspect that Sony Columbia had orchestrated all of it in advance; otherwise, how could it have reached this level of publicity?

This just fueled the conspiracy theories.

Success brings scrutiny. With Spider-Man’s immense success, Sony Columbia found itself in the spotlight, and even the smallest issue became an excuse for speculation and criticism. Paranoia flourished, growing ever more intense.

Hollywood, meanwhile, watched from the sidelines with amused detachment.

Chapter 1039: The Scapegoat

The bigger the drama, the more the crowd enjoys it—

Hollywood insiders are fanning the flames, watching with cold detachment, constantly speculating that Sony-Columbia is orchestrating a grand scheme with ambitious goals.

Right now, Sony-Columbia must be secretly rejoicing. Whether this is an open or covert plan, their objective has already been achieved.

"Spider-Man 2" is the hottest topic, and it’s just from revealing the new suit! The buzz has easily overshadowed the entire summer box office.

Is this even possible?

Everyone thought the big winner this summer would be "Pirates of the Caribbean." Johnny Depp skyrocketed to fame with this movie, after over a decade of accumulating potential, finally reaching the top. Even pirate films were making a full comeback. But unexpectedly, "Spider-Man 2" jumped into the spotlight.

Now, everyone’s talking about "Spider-Man 2." Sony-Columbia has stolen the summer’s attention just by sitting in their office. If all of this is a calculated plan by them, it makes sense.

However, the reality might be a bit different.

Internally, Sony-Columbia looks quite different.

"Shut up."

Michael Lynton tried to stop the arguing in the office. People were blaming and cursing each other, trying to pass the buck. It was an ugly sight.

But the calm and gentlemanly Lynton’s voice was drowned in the high-pitched noise. No one realized that their boss was struggling to contain his anger, as everyone continued arguing fiercely, each trying to prove their point was right.

Bang.

A loud noise startled everyone into silence. Eyes turned toward Michael, who had slammed a thick stack of documents onto the floor, scattering papers everywhere.

On the desk, a clear spot had been made.

However, Michael’s face remained calm, unbothered, as if he had no idea why those papers had fallen to the ground.

"Shut up."

Michael repeated.

"Calm down. This is Sony-Columbia. Even if it’s the end of the world, you shouldn’t run around like headless chickens, screaming and wailing. Show some composure and demonstrate your wisdom."

"There’s no need for this dog-eat-dog scene in front of me."

His tone was steady, as usual, but there was a chilling coldness in his words that made everyone shiver.

Without pausing, Michael continued, bringing everyone’s attention back to the issue at hand.

"Stop reaching out to backup actors for now. Don’t act hastily."

"For the actors we’ve already contacted, make sure they keep their mouths shut. Even if the media gets wind of something, they better not say a word."

"Or they’ll face the consequences."

This was a small meeting, with only Michael’s core team present.

In other words, people he trusted.

Despite the pressure, someone spoke up, "It’s probably too late by now. The media has already heard something. The news is bound to leak soon, and suddenly stopping our actions won’t change that."

"Besides, didn’t we already have a contingency plan?"

"We never intended to replace Anson. We were just preparing for the worst-case scenario."

Before Michael could respond, someone else immediately retorted under their breath.

"That was yesterday. We could’ve gotten away with that excuse a day ago. But now, with Anson as the victim, if we keep using that story, we’ll be torn apart."

"What do you mean? Anson’s the victim? We’re the victims here, okay?"

Michael could hardly bear watching this unfold.

Their conversation was completely off-track, with each person speaking their own piece, none of them really listening to each other. Communication had broken down.

Michael couldn’t hold back any longer, "Stop!"

He raised his hand, cutting the conversation short and summing up the situation.

"When were the Spider-Man suit photos taken? Does this have anything to do with Anson’s injury? And how did they leak?"

"Then, who snuck into Anson’s hospital room to try to take photos of him? Was it the same person who took the Spider-Man suit photos?"

On the other side, someone still didn’t get it. "Paparazzi. It’s all the work of paparazzi. What does this have to do with us? Wait, are you saying we set this all up?"

Everyone in the office gasped.

Michael sighed, "If we had set this up, it would’ve been easier to manage. But no, we didn’t. This has nothing to do with us."

"Then why are we so worried?"

"Because if we act like we don’t care, we’ll seem cold-blooded."

"Ah... I see."

"Paparazzi is a broad term. If we can’t find the real culprit, the public won’t have anyone specific to blame. But if people find out that we’re not supporting Anson and are more concerned about the movie, they’ll turn their anger on us. Anson’s not even dead, and we’re already looking for a replacement? What do you think will happen?"

"We’ll become the scapegoats."

"Exactly. People can’t blame vague paparazzi, but they can target us. Our calm, professional demeanor will be seen as cold-hearted and ruthless. We’ll become the focus of their rage."

The room fell silent. Even Michael.

The normally calm and logical Michael was now lost in thought.

In short, if the paparazzi hadn’t been involved, this would’ve been simple: the accident was an unfortunate event, and both Anson and the crew were victims.

In that case, making backup plans to protect the production would’ve made sense, even if it wasn’t a good look. Sony-Columbia might take some heat, but they’d still have public support.

But now, things were different. The paparazzi’s involvement implied two things:

First, this was man-made, not just an accident.

Second, while Anson and the crew are still victims, the production is also at fault for letting the paparazzi infiltrate the set. They’d need to apologize for their poor security, meaning they’re no longer just victims—they’re partly responsible.

In this context, Sony-Columbia searching for a replacement actor looks heartless. Cold, cruel, inhumane—those are the kinder descriptions. The worst-case scenario would be conspiracy theories—

People might accuse Sony-Columbia of deliberately planning to replace Anson, staging the accident to hurt him and cast someone else.

If it reaches that point, things won’t be simple anymore.

Michael knew that if Sony-Columbia became the target, their Hollywood competitors wouldn’t hesitate to seize the opportunity. He, for one, would never pass up such a chance if it came his way.

*Chapter 1040: Emergency Brake*

Things are spiraling out of control. Behind all the conspiracy theories, it's clear that Sony Columbia is in the crosshairs.

If they're not careful, the next step could be a bottomless pit. There's even the possibility that audiences could unite to boycott Spider-Man 2, or even boycott Sony Columbia altogether.

Even if the conspiracy theories don’t escalate to that level, Sony Columbia's poor handling of the set, allowing paparazzi to invade and disrupt filming, leading to an accident, followed by their lack of remorse and empathy, all while considering replacing Anson while he's still recovering—that’s not a good look.

The flood of criticism is easy to imagine, even with eyes closed.

At that point, Michael might become the board’s scapegoat.

Yes, it's true that the board is dissatisfied with Amy. Yes, they want to replace the CEO. But never forget, the board ultimately looks out for the company’s interests, which means their own interests too. If Michael tarnishes Sony Columbia's reputation, the board would drop him in a heartbeat. After all, whether it's Michael or Amy, it makes no fundamental difference to them.

One small shift can overturn everything.

Up until now, it was always the little guys who became the scapegoats for these big companies. When did it become the big company’s turn to be the scapegoat?

Yet, that's exactly the situation now.

Michael must slam on the brakes before he sinks any deeper.

He even found himself wondering: Could Anson's accident have been arranged internally?

But Michael knows the answer is no.

If it wasn’t them, then who? Could it be Amy?

But does Amy have that kind of boldness? Sacrificing Anson to maintain her position at Sony Columbia?

If Amy had that kind of decisiveness, Michael wouldn’t have had the chance to rise in the first place. Amy would never have let herself fall into such a position.

So who is it?

Michael was frustrated and anxious because he couldn’t see the full picture. He lacked enough information, and it felt like being trapped on a chessboard.

Michael had worked hard to escape a fate of being controlled, striving to become the one in control of others. But this time, just when he thought he had seized an opportunity, he found himself on the defensive again.

Deep down, Michael sensed a powerful hand controlling the entire situation.

Each move connected, each step calculated.

Planning strategies, understanding human nature, predicting accidents, and gauging public sentiment. It was all laid out, every detail planned. Michael’s instincts were screaming—there was a looming crisis.

The situation was already chaotic, spiraling out of control like a storm. But Michael had a bad feeling that worse was yet to come.

The problem was, Michael couldn’t figure it out.

This feeling of uncertainty, Michael despised it—he loathed it. So who was pulling the strings behind the scenes?

Amy?

Ian?

Sam?

Or one of the old foxes on the board?

Everything had been planned. One swift move to kick Anson out, and Michael would gain the upper hand with the Spider-Man 2 crew, showing everyone, both in the production and the company, the future direction. The smart ones would naturally know which side to choose.

But now, their carefully crafted scenario was falling apart due to a string of unexpected events.

He couldn’t figure it out, and there were no clues. This forced Michael to proceed cautiously.

No matter what, for now, the best course of action was to sit tight and wait for the situation to develop.

First, Michael’s intuition was right.

Second, if this was a master plan, it meant the masterminds had already anticipated Michael’s moves, possibly even planning ahead of him.

Even though Michael had reacted quickly, he was still a step behind.

At almost the same time, in another meeting room, the atmosphere was equally tense.

But unlike Michael’s camp, this room wasn’t chaotic. The anxiety and tension were carefully controlled, simmering just beneath the surface, but maintaining composure.

After all, staying calm under pressure is the first rule of public relations.

“Eve, we’re ready. When should we proceed?”

The assistant, struggling to stay composed, spoke with a slight tremor in her voice, betraying her nervousness. Her gaze at Eve was filled with urgency.

Even Eve appeared slightly tense. After all, the opponent was Sony Columbia. A single misstep could lead to an abyss.

Eve didn’t speak. She glanced at her slightly trembling fingers and smiled. It had been a while since she felt this way—an exhilarating mix of tension and excitement. It was like butterflies fluttering in her stomach, making her fingers and toes feel a little cold.

She kind of liked it.

Then, Eve casually perched on her desk, pulling out a lipstick from her small Chanel bag. She looked into the compact mirror and carefully applied the bright, bold red to her pale face.

Once she finished, she took out a small bottle of perfume and sprayed a bit on her wrists and behind her ears, as if she were preparing for a dinner party.

“Eve!” The assistant, summoning her courage, called out again.

Eve's vibrant red lips curved into a smile. “Just wait a little longer.”

“Do you know what the key to PR is?”

“Everyone thinks it’s the message. But no, it’s not. The key is timing. Saying the same thing too early or too late makes all the difference. What you should say today will be different from what you should say tomorrow.”

“If you can master timing, you can control the narrative.”

“Strength and weakness are relative terms. Especially in the era of digital media, where things change by the second. It’s nothing like the old days of print media, where timing has become even more critical.”

“So, if you want to be an excellent PR professional, you have to understand this. Learn to manage timing and make time your ally.”

“As for now, we need to wait. Be patient.”

Nervousness and anxiety stem from insecurity because they arise from doubt and hesitation. But Eve believed in herself.

And, of course, she believed in Anson.

Finally, “Eve, it’s updated!” One of the assistants, who had been refreshing the webpage, looked up with disbelief.

Everything was going as planned.

Eve’s fiery red lips curved into a smile. “We’ve been teasing the rumor long enough. It’s time. Which media outlet?”

“…The New York Times.”

Her lips paused momentarily before her smile brightened. “Oh, now that's a pleasant surprise.”

“Exclusive: The truth behind the Spider-Man 2 set accident—was it an accident, or human error?”

Eve sat in front of the computer, refreshing The New York Times homepage. The freshly updated article jumped out at her.

From the headline alone, you could tell that Anson’s name wasn’t even mentioned. The focus was entirely on the accident itself. It didn’t use sensational keywords to grab attention but cut straight to the point with concise, sharp language. No wonder it’s considered the top media outlet in North America.

Byline: Nicholas Flynn.