196-200

Chapter 196: Tom Cruise's Troubles

In Malibu, a seaside mansion began bustling with activity in the afternoon as a large number of male and female models were brought in.

By evening, the lights were bright, and guests started arriving.

Dozens of models now adorned the poolside and private beach.

“Buddy, take your pick. Heck, you can take them all if you want!”

On the rooftop terrace of the mansion, Brian spoke boldly to Hawk. “Every model and rising star here has provided a recent health report. I guarantee none of them have any infectious diseases.”

Hawk, standing behind the glass railing, looked out at the bikini-clad women on the beach. He replied, “I thought you were planning to pursue a Hollywood actress and prove yourself clean.”

Brian spread his hands. “Didn’t end up needing it, did I?”

Hawk gave him a look, unconvinced. “Don’t tell me you got rejected?”

Brian admitted honestly, “Among the candidates we shortlisted, only Jennifer Aniston and Cameron Diaz were single. Aniston wasn’t in North America, so I approached Cameron Diaz. She wasn’t opposed to a brief fling.”

Proudly, he added, “Unlike your plain face with zero appeal, the dashing Brian Ferguson has irresistible charm.”

Hawk asked, “So where’s Cameron Diaz? I haven’t seen the two of you making a public appearance together.”

Brian coughed awkwardly. “This is all your fault! You’ve ruined my perception of Hollywood actresses!”

He lowered his voice. “I asked her for a health report. She called me a creep, and that was the end of it.”

Hawk, however, encouraged him, “You did the right thing. It’s responsible for both parties.”

The two raised their glasses and drank.

Hawk then asked, “How’s the recall election progressing?”

Brian replied, “The election process is approved. Soon, we’ll move to the actual voting phase. Sacramento is too preoccupied to focus on anything else. The decisive moment is near.”

Hawk said, “Let’s hope Schwarzenegger wins.”

If Gray Davis came out victorious, they might face considerable trouble.

Footsteps echoed from the stairs as someone climbed up.

“So this is where you’re hiding.” A voice called out as the person approached. “You invite me over, but you’re nowhere to be found. I thought you were off partying with a bunch of models.”

Hawk turned to see Tom Cruise.

He had met Cruise last year at the LAPD’s social appreciation banquet. Brian had introduced him to the famous actor.

Recognizing Hawk, Cruise said immediately, “Hawk Osmond, the founder of Twitter.”

Hawk shook his hand. “I didn’t expect to meet you here.”

Cruise smiled. “I came on a whim. Industry parties are dull, but Brian’s invitation came at the right time—I needed a break.”

He turned to Brian. “Congratulations, Mr. Mayor.”

Brian replied, “This is just the beginning.”

“Wishing you a swift path to the Oval Office,” Cruise said, clearly impressed by Brian’s recent success. “It’s been a remarkable election campaign. You’ve left your opponents without a leg to stand on.”

Brian nodded toward Hawk. “It’s all thanks to him. Without Hawk, I’d be the one losing.”

Cruise seemed a bit surprised. “I’ve heard about West Coast Studio. I thought you’d shifted gears.”

Hawk replied, “Business strategy consulting is still part of what we do.”

Brian poured three glasses of wine and handed one each to Hawk and Cruise. Then, he turned to Cruise. “You’ve had some troubles recently, haven’t you? You could consider getting Hawk’s help.”

Cruise pondered for a moment before responding, “Things are still manageable.”

He raised his glass to Hawk. “But if I need assistance, can I contact you?”

Hawk clinked glasses with him. “Anytime.”

The three of them set aside serious matters and moved on to Hollywood gossip and amusing stories.

During the conversation, Tom Cruise shared some of his current issues.

Hawk was already somewhat familiar with the situation through the media.

At the last Academy Awards, Cruise once again failed to secure an Oscar, while his ex-wife Nicole Kidman, backed by Harvey Weinstein’s aggressive campaigning, won Best Actress.

The media was abuzz, celebrating Kidman’s success as a symbol of her independence and career renaissance post-divorce.

This left Cruise deeply humiliated.

After their divorce, both Cruise and Kidman had retained CAA’s Pat Kingsley as their agent. However, Cruise believed Kingsley and CAA had favored Kidman during Oscar season and neglected his own career.

Furious, Cruise fired both Kingsley and CAA.

The fallout was severe. Perhaps worried about other clients following suit, CAA and Kingsley retaliated by feeding the media stories aimed at tarnishing Cruise’s reputation. Rumors about his “unusual beliefs” and alleged restrictions on Kidman’s freedom began to circulate.

Hawk vaguely remembered that this was only the beginning.

At this point, Cruise shifted the topic, asking Hawk, “I recently attended a screening. Is director Eric Eason a friend of yours?”

Hawk nodded slightly. “His new film Journey Through Darkness?”

Cruise replied, “It’s a fantastic film. Paramount Pictures is trying to buy the distribution rights from Castle Rock Entertainment. I really admire his style.”

Hawk said, “Eric is a talented director.”

---

Eric had recently helped Hawk quite a bit, so in return, Hawk said to Cruise, "Do you like Eric’s style? Eric has another new script. He showed it to me, and I think it’s very interesting."

Cruise, who also owns a film production company, replied, "Really? Let’s arrange a time to meet with Eric and discuss it together."

Hawk, being a man of action, asked, "Should I call him right now?"

"Sure," Cruise responded.

Hawk pulled out his phone and called Eric directly, briefly explaining the situation. Eric said he would come right over.

In less than half an hour, Eric arrived in Malibu, hurriedly entering the villa, where someone led him upstairs.

Previously, Tom Cruise had coincidentally attended the test screening of Eric's new film, so the two were somewhat acquainted.

Hawk formally introduced them again before pulling Brian aside to leave the terrace, giving Cruise and Eric space to talk.

With Brian staying behind, even if Cruise were truly interested in men, he wouldn't make a move on Eric.

This script, organized and uploaded by Six Nine Book Bar~~

This perfectly crafted "soup" had been simmering for over 40 years without burning. Even with the backing of Scientology, it was enough to prove that Cruise wasn’t foolish.

Whether a partnership would come to fruition, however, was beyond Hawk’s control.

The party didn’t last long, and most of the guests had already left.

Brian’s team members each left with at least one model—after all, their boss was footing the bill.

On the way back, Eric rode in Hawk’s car, while the driver Catherine assigned to him followed behind in another vehicle.

Hawk asked Edward, who was driving, "Why didn’t you choose someone?"

Edward replied seriously, "They yelled at me."

Curious, Eric asked, "Why?"

Edward, looking helpless, explained, "I went around asking, but none of them had kids..."

"Don’t set your standards so high," Hawk chimed in. "Loosen up a bit—you’re surrounded by a whole forest."

Edward forced a smile and said, "I’m a man of principles."

The truth was, Edward wasn’t in the best mood. Earlier that morning, he had met with Deborah, who was furious about his frequent disappearances for work. She strongly demanded that he resign from the West Coast studio.

Although Deborah claimed she would support him, Edward wasn’t naive. When it comes to money, what woman’s income could compare to having your own? He firmly rejected Deborah’s request, leading to a heated argument between them.

Hawk turned to Eric and asked, "How did your talk with Tom Cruise go?"

"He read my script," Eric explained in detail. "The one inspired by you and Edward. Tom thought the script was interesting and perfect for a movie, but we haven’t discussed the specifics of working together yet."

Hawk commented, "If you and Cruise manage to collaborate, your career will go much smoother."

Eric laughed and said, "Not just a bit smoother—much smoother! Although directors usually have the upper hand when working with actors, Tom Cruise, as a superstar, is an exception."

After thinking for a moment, Eric added, "He hasn’t brought up concrete collaboration plans. I think he’s waiting."

Edward, recalling the previous discussion with Hawk about Cruise possibly being gay, quipped, "Waiting for you to make the first move?"

"Absolutely not!" Eric responded sharply. "If that’s the case, I’d rather not work with him! Cruise is waiting for Night Journey to release. He wants to see how the audience reacts to the film. If it does well, then he’ll discuss working with me."

"When’s the film coming out?" Hawk asked.

Eric replied, "During the recent test screening, Paramount Pictures showed interest in it, but Castle Rock Entertainment didn’t want to sell. If everything goes as planned, it should release in August."

Hawk made a mental note. "We’ll go to the theater to support you then."

"Buy lots of tickets," Eric said, not holding back with his old friends. "This is my first real theatrical film. If it flops, I’ll be stuck making straight-to-video films."

Hawk had an idea. "No problem. I’ll have Twitter book a theater for a private screening."

Eric smiled. "You’re the best, boss."

Edward added, "I’ll get my brothers to go watch it too."

When they arrived in North Hollywood, Eric got out and left.

Hawk then received a call from Megan Taylor, instructing Edward to drive him to the Fox Television Center.

For this election campaign’s PR efforts, besides leveraging Twitter, Fox Channel 11 played a significant role.

Having used Megan’s connections, Hawk would need to spend billions to return the favor.

After arriving at the Fox studio’s underground parking lot, Hawk retrieved a spare key, unlocked Megan’s BMW 7 Series, and got into the driver’s seat. He called Megan again.

Within ten minutes, Megan came downstairs, got into the passenger seat, and asked, "Heading to your place?"

The villa Hawk rented in Santa Monica wasn’t appropriate for bringing other women over.

He replied, "Let’s go to your place instead."

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 197: A New Income Stream

The morning sunlight had already filled the bedroom, and the curtains had turned golden.

Hawk woke up from his slumber, feeling a heavy weight on his chest. It took him a moment to realize what it was.

Megan tilted her head back, flashing a satisfied smile. "Good morning, darling."

Hawk kissed her forehead. "It's been a while since I had such a restful sleep."

"Is it because you've been missing your human pillow?" Megan teased. "Or is it that Erica is too athletic, and cuddling her just doesn’t feel the same?"

She wrapped her arms around Hawk's neck. "You can always come to me, you know."

Hawk smirked. "I'm more worried about being ambushed."

Megan adjusted herself slightly, and the soft "mountains" flattened a bit. "What have you done this time?"

"Nothing much, just helped Brian get elected as mayor of Covina," Hawk said nonchalantly, avoiding the specifics. "Elections can get messy; the other side might resort to drastic measures."

Switching topics, he asked, "I haven’t heard about Gretchen for a while. Any clashes with her lately?"

Megan shook her head. "No, she’s joined Fox News, so there’s no conflict of interest between us anymore. We rarely cross paths. But Cynthia, the director at Channel 11, mentioned something last time. She heard from Roger Ailes that Gretchen’s working on a big story."

Hawk immediately thought of Harley, the journalist, but decided not to bring it up. The matter was too risky, and he didn’t want Megan involved.

Megan, however, asked, "Are you still planning to go after Gretchen?"

Hawk shook his head. "I’m not interested in her."

He glanced at the clock. "It’s almost noon. Let’s get up. After lunch, it’s back to work. Young people need to hustle."

Noon

After enjoying a home-cooked lunch prepared by Megan, Hawk remembered Frank’s sharp nose from last time and took the extra step of showering before heading out.

Megan drove him to Twitter’s office.

Upon entering the building, the receptionist promptly informed the operations director’s office.

On the fourth floor, Caroline stood in front of a full-length mirror, checking her outfit meticulously before heading toward the elevator.

Hawk stepped out of the elevator and immediately spotted her.

Miss Lamb had styled her honey-blonde bangs, donned a pink Chanel outfit, accessorized with a Cartier watch, and wore red high heels.

Her steps clicked like a lamb trotting on a cobblestone path, making rhythmic tap tap sounds.

Caroline’s small, delicate face lit up with a smile. "Boss, you’re back!"

Hawk nodded slightly, giving her a once-over and then frowned. "Your last business attire looked great. Why change back to this?"

Caroline froze for a moment, remembering vividly that Hawk had previously expressed a preference for a "lamb" over a "black goat."

Could I have miscalculated again?

Momentarily stunned, she followed him to his office after receiving her customary "coaching."

Once inside, Hawk asked, "Miss Lamb, is there something important?"

Caroline reported, "The two managers we poached from Korn Ferry have joined. They’ve improved the video-sharing architecture. Also, we’ve finalized an agreement with Yahoo for mutual website traffic redirection."

Hawk nodded. "What about the Spanish-speaking market?"

"I’ve sent a marketing team to Mexico to negotiate with their telecommunications department," Caroline detailed. "So far, progress has been smooth…"

After listening to a lengthy update, Hawk asked, "What’s the financial situation?"

Caroline’s expression turned serious. "Apart from the $5 million we earned from Will Smith, we currently have no other significant revenue streams. The aggressive promotional campaigns are burning through cash quickly, and the funds won’t last much longer."

"I’ll handle the funding," Hawk said, fully aware that seeking investment was inevitable.

Social media platforms can’t scale without funding and going public.

For now, his focus was on boosting Twitter’s valuation to maximize future gains, even if it meant burning cash.

Later

After dismissing Caroline, Hawk called Campos and arranged a meeting.

Edward arrived shortly after. Hawk decided to bring him along to the safe house.

Half an hour later, they met at the safe house in Santa Monica.

Hawk asked, "Have you cleaned up everything related to Brian’s campaign?"

"Everything’s been taken care of," Campos replied. "We even received full payment for the news footage we shot and followed up on."

"Good," Hawk said. "Withdraw our people from Covina. Brian can handle the aftermath himself."

There were still loose ends, like the Pratt bullying case and Owen’s coercion and interference with justice. These wouldn’t be resolved anytime soon.

Pratt would likely face prison time, and Owen’s future didn’t look much brighter.

Hawk turned to Campos. "Are your people still tailing Harley?"

Campos explained, "Carlos and Garcia have been keeping tabs on her. She’s attending a performance training class that’s already started. She goes to Superstar Academy for lessons every weekday, morning and afternoon."

---

He had done quite a bit of work on this matter: "To get a handle on Harley's situation, I sent a female subordinate over to join her training class. She had some interaction with Harley, but since Harley is an investigative journalist, I was worried she'd see through us. I didn't let her get too close. So far, nothing unusual has been discovered."

"Keep it up, but don’t let anyone notice," Hawk instructed. "If Harley finds herself in a dangerous situation, help her out if you can, but only if our people’s safety can be guaranteed."

Campos agreed.

Hawk thought for a moment and then added, "Next, we need to look for new high-income opportunities."

Lately, besides planning for Bryan's operations, he had been spending his free time reading the news, focusing on the entertainment and sports industries.

Why? Because celebrities from these fields posed little actual threat, had plenty of fame, assets to their names, and often led colorful lives.

Perfect targets.

Campos, too, had thought about the entertainment industry and said, "Leonardo and Gisele Bündchen don't seem to have any signs of breaking off their engagement for now."

This work was organized and uploaded by the 69 Bookshelf. ~~

Hawk picked up an issue of Sports Illustrated he’d read a few days ago. Pointing to a photo of two men, one Black and one white, he said, "Last month, Tiger Woods successfully proposed to Swedish model Elin Nordegren. They've gone from dating to being engaged. Word is they’ll have the wedding either at the end of the year or next year. Keep an eye on this tiger."

Campos instantly understood—Hawk wanted news on Tiger Woods.

Still flipping through the same Sports Illustrated, Hawk turned a few pages and came across a news article about Los Angeles Lakers superstar Kobe Bryant.

It reported that Kobe was recovering from an injury at a spa hotel in Eagle County, Colorado, and was preparing for knee surgery.

Hawk said, "Send someone over to keep tabs on Kobe, focusing on his relationships with women."

Campos made a note of it as well.

Hawk continued flipping through Sports Illustrated until he came across soccer news. Manchester United star David Beckham had reportedly fallen out with team manager Ferguson after the infamous "flying boot" incident in the locker room. Rumors of Beckham joining Real Madrid were rampant, even though the European soccer transfer window hadn’t opened yet.

Thinking back to Tom Cruise, whom he had met the night before, Hawk said, "If David Beckham does join Real Madrid, send a few people to Madrid to monitor him, again focusing on his relationships."

He made up a reason offhandedly: "Yesterday, I met Beckham’s friend Tom Cruise. According to him, Beckham’s relationship with his female assistant isn’t simple."

Campos jotted this down and asked, "Anything else, boss?"

"That’s all for now," Hawk replied, handing the Sports Illustrated to Campos. "As always, once you’ve got the news and video, send it to Twitter."

Campos packed up the magazine and his notebook and was the first to leave the safehouse.

Edward then spoke up, "Boss, once the videos are in the hands of the 'Butterfly,' do we expose them?"

"Not necessarily. It depends on the situation," Hawk said. Compared to the uncertainty they faced when selling videos before, he now had more leverage. "If the people involved are willing to pay, we can accept their PR efforts."

Otherwise, the "public’s right to know" would remain untouchable.

Hawk and Edward soon left the safehouse as well.

Bryan called Hawk again.

Hawk had Edward drive to St. Mary’s Mental Health and Rehabilitation Center.

The three of them met at the entrance. Hawk got into Bryan's car.

Bryan said, "She'll be out shortly."

Hawk replied, "Once she’s out of North America, this matter is over."

This was about Bella Sein, who had once tried to frame him in the office and had provided information on Grant’s team.

Hawk had agreed to sign a settlement agreement, but on the condition that she leave North America.

Not long after, a side door of the rehabilitation center opened, and Bella Sein, dressed in ordinary clothes, walked out.

Two of Bryan’s subordinates approached her and spoke briefly.

Bella got into the car, which headed straight for Los Angeles International Airport.

Bryan deliberately asked Hawk, "Not going to say goodbye?"

Hawk shook his head. "If you hadn’t called me, I wouldn’t have come here in the first place."

He then called Edward. "Let’s go."

The two cars left the rehabilitation center and returned to Los Angeles.

The car carrying Bella arrived at the airport, where a female subordinate retrieved her boarding pass and escorted her to the gate.

Bella didn’t resist and remained quiet.

She had already seen news reports about Harley's team being involved in a car accident.

Because Bella knew that staying in North America would lead only to a dead end.

She obediently boarded the plane, planning to start a new life in Brisbane.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 198: Breakthrough

In the business van returning to Los Angeles, Brian reminded, “The firearms I arranged to be purchased will be delivered soon. Have you figured out where to store them?”

Hawk thought for a moment and said, “We'll split them into two parts: one at Erica’s villa in Silver Lake and the other at the villa I’m renting in Santa Monica.”

“That works,” Brian said, taking out his phone to send a text message. Then he added, “The weapons being delivered this time are enough for you to fight a street battle.”

Hearing the Cult of the Cursed God's leader's ominous words, Hawk quickly interrupted him. “Stop! Don’t say another word. I have no intention of starting a street war in Los Angeles!”

He stared at Brian. “Take back your cursed words!”

Brian raised his hands in surrender. “No street battles! Absolutely no street battles!”

Hawk changed the topic. “Is it true that Owen’s wife, Helen, is divorcing him?”

Brian replied, “She’s already filed for it.”

“I feel like Helen is overreacting,” Hawk said thoughtfully. “I told Sandra to look into it. Has she done that?”

Brian nodded. “I remember she reported back to me, saying she bribed one of Helen’s friends.”

Hawk felt uneasy. Since this involved Owen, it was best to get to the bottom of it.

---

### Covina, Main Street

A car came to a slow stop. In the passenger seat, Sandra looked at the woman driving and said, “If you can get the details, you’ll receive the rest of your payment.”

Emily counted the cash in her hand and replied, “I know what to do. Wait for my good news.”

Sandra got out and entered her own car parked nearby.

As night fell, Emily stepped out of the car and walked toward a nearby lounge bar.

The two women had been classmates from elementary to high school. Despite a significant gap in family wealth, they had always stayed in touch.

For someone like Helen, a wealthy girl from a small-town elite family, it was useful to have a few friends around who could make her privilege stand out by comparison.

Emily and Helen weren’t particularly close, but their relationship wasn’t bad. If this task had involved harming Helen, Emily would have outright refused.

But just finding out why she was divorcing? That was a different story.

Emily was curious herself. Was Helen really divorcing Owen because of infidelity? That didn’t seem like the Helen she knew.

Inside the bar, Emily found a booth and ordered Helen’s favorite citrus cocktail.

After a while, Helen entered the bar and sat across from her.

Emily opened the bottle, poured Helen a glass, and pointed at her dark eye circles. “Haven’t been sleeping well?”

Helen took the glass and drank most of it in one go. “With everything that’s been happening, how could I?”

“Do you really have to go through with the divorce?” Emily probed. “Infidelity is something every man in America seems to do. Owen will be back soon, and next term, he could still—”

Helen gestured for her to pour more wine. “You wouldn’t understand, even if I told you. It’s too complicated.”

Emily poured more wine. “What about Pratt? Aren’t you worried about him?”

Helen shook her head. “He’s become a national star now—a star of crime and bullying. What can I do? If I step forward now, I can’t even protect myself.”

She clinked glasses with Emily. “There were so many times when I had to apply pressure to cover things up.”

Emily took a sip of her drink.

Helen continued, “I even had Fowler threaten people with a gun—people who wanted to report him and even their parents.”

Emily didn’t know what to say. It was clear that Owen and Helen’s repeated indulgence had emboldened Pratt’s increasingly reckless behavior.

Helen downed another glass of citrus wine and poured herself another. “I’ve had enough of this family! I want to pursue my freedom.”

The conversation turned to romantic ideals, with both women fantasizing about freedom, poetry, and distant lands.

Helen drank most of the bottle herself, her head gradually clouded by alcohol.

Emily, not the sharpest, struggled to find a breakthrough.

Fortunately, Helen steered the conversation back to her marriage. “Once I finish the divorce and get all the assets, we’ll travel to Europe together.”

Emily seized the moment. “You think you can get all the assets?”

Helen hiccupped and replied, “Owen wouldn’t dare not give them to me!”

Emily played the part of an admiring listener, leaning in as Helen continued to boast.

Helen moved closer, speaking in a low voice. “Remember that time when Owen came home from a party, and you were at my house? After he went upstairs, you mentioned smelling a hint of blood?”

Emily nodded. “You know me. I’ve been squeamish about blood since I was a kid—especially sensitive to its smell.”

“After you left, he changed his clothes, and I found blood on them,” Helen said, pouring herself another glass. “Later, I also found the scent of another woman’s perfume and faint traces of blood. Some things are hard to hide from a partner. I even checked his computer—he had videos of bloody, violent acts against women…”

Emily’s eyes widened in shock. “No way.”

Helen sneered. “At your level, there are things you can’t even imagine. This country and society are darker than your worst nightmares. Owen must be involved in some bloody, brutal organization. As his wife—or rather, his ex-wife—I’m certain of it.”

Emily ordered more drinks, pouring Helen another glass.

Helen added, “Owen thinks he’s hiding it well, but he forgot about his not-so-bright brother. I tricked Fowler once, and he let something slip without even realizing it.”

Emily nodded. “Fowler’s definitely not the sharpest.”

Helen finished her last glass, waving dismissively. “I don’t want to go down with them.”

After finishing more than a bottle of wine together, Emily escorted a tipsy Helen out and drove her home.

Helen now lived alone in a small villa, far from the town’s recent chaos.

Emily waited until Helen was asleep before leaving and driving back to Main Street.

At the same spot, she found Sandra and handed over a recording device from her pocket.

Sandra handed her the promised payment.

Emily handed over the recorder.

After listening carefully, Sandra said, “You can leave now.”

She gave a stern warning. “If you don’t want to die suddenly, forget about this. You never heard of it.”

Realizing how serious the matter was, especially since Helen was divorcing Owen over it, Emily, despite her lack of sharpness, understood the gravity of the situation and quickly assured, “I don’t know anything. I’ve never seen you.”

---

---

Sandra waved her hand.

Emily quickly got out of the car and walked away.

...

The sun hadn’t risen high yet that morning when Hawk received a call from Brian. He immediately instructed Edward to drive him to Covina.

At the campaign office, Brian had been waiting.

When Hawk arrived, Brian closed the office door, stationed Sandra outside, and sat in front of a laptop to play the audio recording extracted from the previous night.

The voices of two women engaged in conversation began to play.

Brian said, “Helen Nestor and her friend Emily.”

Hawk remained silent, listening intently.

Most of the conversation was useless, filled with the two women’s fantasies.

When blood was mentioned, Hawk instantly became alert.

The subsequent dialogue was somewhat unexpected but not entirely surprising.

After all, Owen Nestor was a member of the Blue Party.

In terms of party membership duration alone, he was a senior member of the Blue Party.

Of course, in political parties around the world, tenure is often a less significant factor compared to status and influence.

The audio finished playing.

Hawk asked, “Is there anything else?”

“No,” Brian replied, unfazed by the implications. He had personally instigated incidents targeting underage members of the Blue Party in the past. “Helen was mostly speculating, though her assumptions are likely in the right direction.”

Hawk said, “If they’re willing to target child stars, adult women are even less off-limits.”

Brian looked at Hawk. “Do you have any good suggestions?”

Hawk thought for a moment before saying, “How many people know about this? Let’s keep it under wraps for now.”

Brian replied, “Sandra warned the person who recorded it. I’ve already ordered Sandra to keep silent.”

“Good.” Hawk stood up, paced the room twice, and then, thinking of his nemesis, the Ackerman family, tentatively asked, “Do you know if the police department has ever investigated cases of missing young women?”

Brian said, “I’ve heard about it. The most recent case seemed to be the disappearance of Kristin Johnson. But after the person who reported it disappeared, the police shelved the case.”

At this point, he understood Hawk’s implication. “Missing young women, and Owen from the Blue Party attending certain gatherings—could there be a connection to some abusive activities?”

Hawk shrugged. “We don’t have evidence, but if those perverts dare target children, adults are certainly fair game. I heard from Erica that the missing individuals share a few common traits: they’re from out of town, come from broken families with no one to care for them, live alone in Los Angeles, and lack friends.”

Brian deduced, “In that case, even if someone goes missing, there’s no one to report it. And even if it’s reported, without someone actively pursuing it, the LAPD wouldn’t waste significant resources investigating a missing persons case—it’s not a homicide.”

He continued, “I know about this case because both the Red and Blue parties have tried to capitalize on it. Perhaps this could secure the Republican Party’s victory in California.”

Hawk reminded him, “Don’t put yourself in the spotlight for this. Watch out for retaliation.”

Thinking of the four people who had already met their demise, Brian realized his slim chances against such risks. More importantly, if he took the lead, he’d bear the brunt of the danger while Arnold Schwarzenegger reaped the biggest benefits.

Not worth it.

Only a fool would take such a risky venture without any personal gain.

Having figured out the key point, Brian said, “This matter isn’t entirely clear yet. The breakthrough lies with Owen. He’s the best starting point.”

“Exactly. Use this opportunity to completely take Owen down,” Hawk said bluntly. “Owen has already served two terms. If he recovers from this, he could still cause trouble down the line.”

Unlike Brian, Hawk’s thoughts were more intricate. This issue was connected to the superstar training academy and the Ackerman film industry.

Hawk, the cunning manipulator, held Brian’s strings tightly. “If we take care of Owen, no one in Covina will be able to threaten us.”

After weighing his options, Brian realized that he wouldn’t have to take the risks himself. He could curry favor with higher-ups while simultaneously eliminating political enemies in Covina. The benefits far outweighed the drawbacks.

He quickly made up his mind. “I’ll head back to Los Angeles today. Someone up there will definitely be interested in this information. With Owen as the suspect, we can make our move without drawing too much attention.”

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 199: Securing Twitter

San Francisco, Santa Clara Business Club.

Douglas entered a conference room with a briefcase in hand.

After waiting for a moment, a knock sounded at the door. He walked over and opened it, letting in a stunning blonde woman.

Although the woman was nearing thirty, she was well-maintained and looked no older than twenty-five. Tall and elegant, her features were exquisitely refined.

Douglas shook her hand. "Emma, it's been a while."

Emma smiled warmly. "You’re looking more dashing than ever. Got a big deal for me?"

Douglas wasted no time. Opening his briefcase, he retrieved a set of documents and handed them to her.

Emma examined the papers. In the top left corner was a slightly blurred photograph of a man with short black hair, black-rimmed glasses, a lean build, and an unremarkable appearance.

Below the photo was a brief introduction:

*Hawk Osmond*, founder of West Coast Media Studios and Twitter Entertainment Corporation.

After reading, Emma remarked, "The founder of Twitter—an impressive figure. I’m a Twitter user myself."

Understanding his intentions, she asked, "There are plenty of business brokers in San Francisco and California. Why choose me?"

Douglas replied, "Never underestimate your abilities. You’re one of the most talented brokers in Silicon Valley. Plus, your looks will likely leave a strong impression on Hawk Osmond."

Emma quipped, "So, he’s into blondes?"

"Not just blondes," Douglas said in a hushed tone. "Our team in Los Angeles has already interacted with him. The women frequently around him have builds similar to yours and light brown or blonde hair."

He looked at her pointedly. "Beautiful women with business acumen are rare, and you’re the only one I know."

"Thank you for the compliment. I’ll take the job." Emma exuded confidence. "What’s the objective?"

Douglas stated, "Acquire his shares in Twitter. The price is negotiable, but at a minimum, we need to secure majority ownership."

This wasn’t Emma’s first collaboration with Douglas's investment firm. "Understood."

They discussed the details further before parting ways.

---

In his car, Douglas instructed the driver to leave and made a call. "I’ve secured the broker. She’s reliable but will need some time."

On the other end, a voice responded, "This time, the crass red bloc made significant headway in Los Angeles. Twitter played a crucial role in shaping public discourse. We’ve always dominated the media sector, and we must secure this new platform."

Douglas understood the stakes. The issue was deeply entwined with Sacramento's red vs. blue conflict. With Gray Davis under considerable pressure, the blue camp was already strategizing for the long term.

"It may cost over a hundred million dollars," Douglas said.

"Twitter is widely seen as a promising investment. It’s worth it." The voice continued, "Are contingency plans in place?"

"Of course," Douglas assured.

"Excellent."

After hanging up, Douglas turned to his assistant in the front passenger seat. "Head to Los Angeles. Stay there for a while. If Emma’s progress stalls, step in and find that guy."

"Understood." The assistant glanced at the documents in his hand.

One name stood out: *Miller Collins*, a former star wide receiver for the San Diego Chargers.

Last year, Collins had been embroiled in scandal, sued for damages by former sponsors, and linked to the Los Angeles gang, the Mule Syndicate. He had attacked a Fox News anchor and Hawk Osmond’s West Coast studio, resulting in a one-year prison sentence.

During his incarceration, his wife, Maria Collins, divorced him, took all his assets, and demanded child support.

The Chargers had since terminated his contract.

From a millionaire athlete to financial ruin, with ongoing child support obligations, the assistant quickly identified a leverage point.

---

Meanwhile, Emma Bettson returned to her consulting firm in the Bay Area and immediately convened a team meeting.

By that afternoon, her seven-member team left San Francisco and headed to Los Angeles.

At Los Angeles International Airport, Emma’s assistant received an update.

"My colleague at Fox Television contacted someone from Channel 11 to dig into Hawk Osmond," the assistant said.

Emma asked directly, "What are his hobbies?"

"Fitness and firearms," the assistant replied.

"Firearms?" Emma was a bit surprised.

---

*West Los Angeles, Atterill Mountain Shooting Range*

On the skeet shooting range, Erica pressed the launch button, sending two red clay targets into the sky.

Hawk raised his double-barreled shotgun. Without much aiming, he instinctively fired twice, shattering both targets midair.

Reloading smoothly, he waited for the next targets. Again, two shots, two hits.

Brian entered from the sidelines, fingers plugging his ears, watching the two enthusiasts gleefully shoot. Grabbing earplugs from the workbench, he put them on, finally finding some peace.

Hawk continued firing and reloading in a rhythm, unloading thirty rounds in one go.

Noticing Brian’s arrival, Erica waved at Hawk, signaling him to pause.

Hawk removed his earplugs, slung the walnut-stocked shotgun over his shoulder, and walked to the rest area.

Erica approached from the control station. "How’s the gun?"

"Fantastic," Hawk said, giving a thumbs-up. "Great feel, excellent balance—a perfect mix of competition and hunting utility."

Setting the gun on a rack, Hawk sat opposite Brian. "Thanks for the gun, buddy."

Brian glanced at it. "I gave you that?"

"Yep," Hawk nodded. "One of the many guns you’ve gifted me."

"Hey, dear cousin," Erica interjected. "You’ve never given me a gun."

Brian deflected. "That’s Hawk’s responsibility, not mine."

"You can take whichever one you like," Hawk offered.

Erica raised a playful brow. "Really? Anything? Use it as I please?"

Brian tapped the table sharply. "Can you two stop flirting in front of a lonely bachelor here? Have some decency!"

Erica changed the subject. "Oh, by the way, Jennifer Huey called me recently. She’s been reassigned to the FBI’s Los Angeles field office. Probably already started."

"What?" Brian exclaimed.

Hawk asked, "Jennifer Huey? That name sounds familiar. Where have I heard it before?"

---

Erica reminded, “In Wyoming, when we were hunting near your farm, after that attack, the female FBI agent who led the team that came over.”

Hawk remembered. At the time, Erica had also mentioned that the female agent was Brian’s classmate from Stanford University and had pursued Brian unsuccessfully.

“You can read the original on Chapter Six, Page Nine at the library!”

Brian groaned in frustration. “Oh God, what’s she doing in Los Angeles?”

Hawk, deliberately provoking him, replied, “Obviously, she’s here to find you. You’ll rekindle old feelings, and it’ll lead straight to the altar…”

“Stop! Stop!” Brian cut him off, emphasizing, “There were no old feelings between us. Never.”

Erica, turning serious, said, “The FBI supervisor in Los Angeles is older and looking for a stable retirement. The previous incident involving Wagner’s demise drew dissatisfaction from headquarters. Don’t forget, the current FBI Director was appointed from the Oval Office. Headquarters made personnel adjustments in Los Angeles—one deputy supervisor was reassigned to D.C., and Jennifer was sent here to take over.”

Hawk nodded in understanding. “Those bastards might have succeeded in silencing witnesses, but not without consequences.”

Brian sighed lightly. “Actions that yield profit come with corresponding consequences.”

He paused slightly before continuing, “California used to be a stronghold and cradle of the GOP. But thanks to a series of foolish moves, it’s turned from red to blue…”

Although Erica wasn’t deeply involved in politics, she knew enough to comment, “Schwarzenegger has a strong chance this time.”

Brian nodded. “Exactly. They’ve already got the knife aimed at Gray Davis’s weak spot.”

Hawk asked, “Did you report Owen’s matter?”

Brian replied, “They haven’t taken action yet. They’re worried Owen might get ‘suicided.’”

Erica added, “Jennifer’s arrival here is connected to Owen’s case.”

Hawk pointed at Brian. “For the sake of the GOP, you should step up and make the sacrifice!”

Erica chuckled. “Grandma met Jennifer and thought she was nice.”

“Stick to serious matters!” Brian scolded them, irritated. “No messing around.”

Hawk, feigning seriousness, said, “This is serious. If you want to gain recognition and become a true political rising star, you must play a key role in moments like this.”

Brian saw the sense in his words and picked up his phone to scroll through his contacts. “Maybe I should call her now?”

Erica suggested, “Start with a text. She might be working…”

Brian had already sent the text.

The reply came quickly: “Working now. Let’s talk later.”

---

In Covina, several SUVs with FBI insignias drove through a three-way intersection and entered Main Street.

Jennifer Hewey, her short hair neat and sharp, put away her phone and looked out the car window.

The convoy stopped at a villa. Jennifer picked up her radio and said, “According to reliable intel, several armed individuals are among Owen Nestor’s men. Stay alert and safe.”

She emphasized, “Once inside, secure the scene immediately!”

“Understood!”

“Understood!”

The other vehicles responded in unison.

The cars stopped along the roadside. At Jennifer’s command, ten agents equipped with assault rifles, submachine guns, shotguns, and bulletproof vests quickly disembarked. Following the prearranged plan, four agents headed to the back door to block the escape route.

The remaining agents, led by Jennifer, used a breaching tool to force their way into the villa.

Hearing the loud crash at the entrance, Fowler thought something serious had happened. He grabbed a shotgun.

Before he could load it—

Two elite agents entered the living room, shouting, “FBI! Authorized search! Show me your hands!”

Fowler wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but seeing the heavily armed agents and the “FBI” lettering on their tactical vests, he dropped the shotgun and raised his hands high.

Another agent asked, “Where is Owen Nestor?”

Faced with the muzzles of the guns, Fowler nervously pointed toward the study.

Jennifer immediately led her team there.

Someone knocked the door down. “FBI! Open up!”

A few minutes later, Owen Nestor, now handcuffed, was brought into the living room.

Jennifer showed him the warrant and instructed her team to search the villa. On Owen’s computer, they discovered a trove of videos depicting abuse of women and minors.

Even though the videos were sourced from the internet, possession of content involving minors constituted a serious crime.

Owen was taken into custody.

---

(End of chapter)

*Chapter 200: Saving a Life*

The following morning, Hawk had just arrived at Twitter's office when Brian came looking for him.

Closing the door behind him, Brian said, "Latest news—one of the victims reported to the FBI, and yesterday afternoon, the FBI issued a compulsory summons for Owen Nestor."

Hawk picked up on the key detail immediately. "There’s really a victim?"

Brian replied, "Finding a victim isn’t hard. They're the FBI, not the LAPD."

Curious, Hawk asked, "How did you get this intel? Could it be that the team leader is your old flame?"

"Not an old flame," Brian corrected him. Then he added, "Jennifer is in charge of this case."

Hawk had already suspected as much. Jennifer’s reassignment was clearly orchestrated by the Elephant Party, aimed at continuing their offensive against the Donkey Party.

"Jennifer’s family background must be extraordinary, right?" Hawk asked.

Brian replied vaguely, "She’s just an ordinary person. But at her age, becoming the Deputy Director of the FBI’s Los Angeles Field Office isn’t common."

Brian didn’t stay long. After briefly discussing matters in Covina, he excused himself.

The series of upheavals in Covina forced Brian to assume his new role earlier than planned.

Thanks to family resources, Brian brought in a professional support team when he took office, helping this rookie transition into the role smoothly.

---

*Hollywood, Paramount Studios*

That afternoon, the classes at the Superstar Training School wrapped up. Holly took her time packing her belongings. She noticed the tall and leggy young girl, Lena, hurrying out of the classroom to catch up with Greg, a producer at Ackman Pictures.

The two walked outside together, chatting as they went.

Holly couldn’t hear what they were discussing but sensed something was off.

She had conducted extensive investigations into the Superstar School, even secretly photographing past student rosters. From them, she identified names of several missing individuals and discreetly contacted other students from the same cohort.

Those students vaguely recalled that the missing individuals were closely associated with Ackman Pictures’ producer, Bro Derek.

Bro Derek, however, was now serving a prison sentence for the public shooting of his wife, Sarah Parker.

Currently, the school’s head, Greg, was Derek’s former assistant.

Holly's original plan had been to infiltrate the situation herself, confident in her appearance. But after nearly two weeks of classes, she realized she wasn’t attracting any attention.

Instead, Lena had caught Greg’s eye.

It didn’t take long for Holly to figure out why: she was nearly 25, while Lena wasn’t even 18 yet.

Men, she thought with disdain.

Greg and Lena entered an office together.

Holly left the school and walked to her car.

Since noticing Lena becoming a target, Holly had intentionally befriended her, and their relationship had grown closer.

After waiting for a while, Lena emerged from the school.

Holly called her.

Lena, who had been about to hail a cab, quickly approached Holly’s car with a smile. "I thought you’d left."

"We’re going the same way. Hop in," Holly said, unlocking the door and sliding into the driver’s seat.

Lena climbed in as well.

In a nearby car, a young Mexican-American student had been silently observing Holly and Lena.

After seeing them together, she pulled out her phone and made a call. "Garcia, the two targets—Holly and Lena—just got into the same car and are leaving together."

The voice on the other end replied, "Leave them to me. I’ll follow."

The student hung up and drove away.

Meanwhile, Holly drove out of the busy area, casually asking, "What did Greg talk to you about? It seemed pretty secretive."

"You noticed?" Lena, in high spirits, thought about the opportunity Greg had mentioned and his insistence on keeping it private. "There’s a party tonight, and Greg invited me to join."

Holly immediately thought of the missing girls. She warned Lena seriously, "I’ve been in L.A. for a while now. Hollywood producers love to deceive pretty girls. Don’t take their words too seriously."

But a young girl blinded by dreams of stardom was unlikely to heed such advice. Lena dismissed her concerns lightly. "I’m not planning to go. It’s just hard to refuse in person. I’ll call Greg later and say I can’t make it."

As a seasoned investigative journalist, Holly could tell Lena wasn’t being entirely truthful. "Hollywood isn’t as simple as it seems. You—"

"Okay, okay, I get it," Lena interrupted with a grin. "I’m not going."

With that, Holly couldn’t push further. She drove Lena to her apartment.

As Lena prepared to get out, she said, "Thanks! I’ll treat you to a nice dinner tomorrow."

"Wait," Holly said, grabbing a bag from the back seat. "Isn’t your 18th birthday coming up? Here’s a little something for you."

Lena hesitated. "Oh, I couldn’t possibly—"

"Go on, take it." Holly smiled. "Neither of us has roots in L.A. Let’s look out for each other."

Noticing the designer label on the bag, Lena couldn’t resist. "Thank you."

Holly unwrapped the gift. "See if it matches your style."

"It’s beautiful!" Lena exclaimed, taking it.

Holly unzipped the bag, discarded the desiccant packet, and opened it wide. "Transfer your stuff into it."

"Sure," Lena said, moving her belongings into the new bag.

She got out of the car and walked toward her apartment building.

Holly hesitated for a moment, then picked up a remote control and pressed a button.

Lena, glancing back from the building entrance, saw Holly drive off. Smiling, she tossed her old bag into a trash can and happily went upstairs.

That evening, she planned to carry her new bag, hoping it would boost her confidence.

Lena climbed the stairs, her mood light.

Meanwhile, Holly returned to a nearby rental garage, swapped her car for a Cadillac, and drove out.

---

The car, along with the bag meant for Lena, was equipment specifically requisitioned from Fox News by her.

Media outlets under the News Corporation umbrella always had some specialized gear.

Holly bought food and water and even wore an adult diaper for convenience during the stakeout.

She knew very well that the sooner she exposed those scumbags, the sooner new victims could be spared.

Holly activated the car's GPS monitor and listening device and put on her headphones.

On the monitor, the GPS tracker showed a location right on the apartment building.

Through her headphones, Lena's humming came through clearly.

Holly then activated the recording function.

On the sidewalk, people passed by one after another.

A Mexican man carrying a briefcase walked from across the street, moving briskly like everyone just getting off work.

Carlos passed in front of the car, his eyes quickly scanning the windshield, then continued forward and got into a common-looking Chevrolet parked by the roadside.

The car pulled out of its parking spot and soon disappeared from sight.

A few minutes later, a Ford turned onto the street and parked in an empty spot.

Carlos pointed to a car ahead of them. "Miss Holly is in that car," he said.

Garcia replied, "She suddenly started watching that girl Lena today. Do you think she's onto something?"

"The boss said to contact him if there’s a situation," Carlos said, taking out his phone. "I'll call the boss."

He dialed Campos.

At Butterfly Information Consulting, Campos listened to Carlos’s report. After thinking for a moment, he picked up a landline and called Hawk. "Boss, that reporter named Holly has started acting. She’s watching a pretty girl named Lena."

On the other end of the line, Hawk asked, "What’s Lena’s story?"

Campos, whose team had been tracking Holly and her interactions, explained, "She’s a classmate from Holly’s training program, only 17 years old, very attractive, and from Texas."

Hawk sensed something might be up. "You go personally," he instructed. "That Holly… if you can ensure your own safety, lend her a hand if needed."

"Understood," Campos replied, grabbing a skilled driver from his team and heading downstairs together.

The two got into a car and headed straight for Westwood. Before long, they arrived near the target apartment building.

Stopping at a distance, they parked the car.

As night fell, the streetlights on both sides of the road flickered on.

Through her headphones, Holly suddenly heard a ringtone, immediately perking up.

Shortly afterward, a Mercedes pulled up in front of the apartment building.

Lena soon came out of the building and greeted a middle-aged woman in a business suit. "Are you Mrs. Meriel?"

"That’s me," Meriel replied kindly, smiling warmly as she opened the back door and gestured for Lena to get in. "Mr. Guerrero is waiting for you at a seaside club."

Lena climbed into the car, flashing a sweet smile. "Thank you."

Meriel instructed the driver, "West, let’s go."

The driver began driving the Mercedes southward.

Holly waited briefly before starting her car and following them. She glanced at her GPS monitor to confirm the moving vehicle ahead.

Not long after, a Land Rover Defender began following them as well.

The vehicle turned off the street, and the driver glanced at Carol. "Boss, is someone tailing Meriel and her group?"

Carol, a cautious individual who had once partnered with Bro Derrick, responded, "Let’s make sure before acting."

After that vehicle left, Campos and Carlos’s car finally started moving slowly, blending into the traffic and keeping a distance as they followed.

They had tailed cars loaded with girls before, tracking one all the way to a seaside club in Venice.

Judging by the direction the car was heading, it was clearly going to Venice.

Knowing the destination made following much easier.

In her Cadillac, Holly maintained her distance while listening to the audio through her headphones.

The woman named Meriel instructed Lena to drink some water and eat some candy.

Lena gasped in delight as if the water and candy were top-tier luxuries.

When the car reached Venice, Holly suddenly noticed that Lena hadn’t made any noise for a while.

The Mercedes driver’s voice came through: "Finally, we can breathe a little easier."

Meriel remarked, "These ignorant girls are always blinded by their dreams of stardom."

The driver replied, "This one’s good—those legs are something else. Before she’s sent off, can I enjoy her a bit?"

"Enjoy her?" Meriel chuckled. "You can have her after the big shots are done with her."

"I’m not that twisted," the driver said. "I don’t get off on people who’ve been mutilated or skinned."

All of this reached Holly’s ears.

She knew she had found the right trail.

On a downhill road, Holly had a clear view and spotted the club ahead on the right as its iron gate slowly opened.

The Mercedes decelerated, preparing to enter.

Thinking of Lena and the missing girls, Holly feared Lena would disappear if she went inside.

Desperate, Holly turned her steering wheel, lightly tapping the brakes to gently cause a collision and draw attention from the surrounding traffic.

Meanwhile, in the following Land Rover Defender, Carol noticed Holly’s Cadillac’s movements and immediately realized her intent. "Block her from behind!"

Turning to the two men in the back, he added, "Once we stop, secure the person in the Cadillac immediately and take her away."

The Land Rover sped up.

The Mercedes decelerated for the turn, but Holly’s Cadillac bumped into it from behind with a loud crash.

Before she could react, a light jolt came from the back— the Land Rover had rammed her car.

Three men wearing black hoods jumped out of the Land Rover.

From a distance, Campos, using a night-vision scope and aided by the club’s neon sign, noticed the commotion ahead.

The female reporter who had been tailing others was now being tailed herself.

Prepared for such an event, Campos lowered the passenger window, grabbed a police light from under the seat, and placed it on the roof, switching it on.

Flashing red-and-blue lights accompanied by a loud siren filled the area.

The three men with tools and weapons froze at the sight of the flashing lights.

Carol, seeing the Cadillac’s closed doors, retreated to his car. "Let’s go! Move now!"

The Mercedes didn’t make the turn but instead sped straight ahead.

The Land Rover followed.

Holly, shaken but regaining composure, prepared to follow them again.

But before she could, the Mercedes stopped, and Lena, along with her belongings, was tossed out before the car sped off.

Holly sighed in relief and turned to see the approaching "police car."

It was an old Ford sedan with a portable police light mounted on top.

Much to Holly’s dismay, the Ford turned at an intersection ahead, apparently pursuing another car.

"Close call this time," Holly muttered, pulling out a rarely used phone to call 911 for Lena.

Sensing danger, she refrained from showing herself, instead reversing into a hidden spot until a patrol car arrived.

---