41-45

Chapter 41: A Bizarre Incident

Plagiarism or strikingly similar ideas in screenplays is commonplace in Hollywood.

They say "all writing draws from the same well," and Hollywood is no exception.

In the early 20th century, inspired by the rise of unions, various guilds began forming across the United States.

Naturally, Hollywood screenwriters followed suit and established the Writers Guild of America (WGA).

The WGA serves many purposes, one of which is to protect its members from having their creative work plagiarized—or to help pursue claims when plagiarism occurs.

Many screenwriters choose to register their scripts with the WGA.

This offers two main benefits.

First, it provides proof of ownership in case a similar idea arises elsewhere or someone outright copies the work.

Second, registering a script with the WGA increases the chances of it being noticed by producers, directors, or studio heads.

For well-known screenwriters, this isn’t much of an issue.

They’re often hired directly by major studios, producers, or directors to craft tailor-made projects.

But for up-and-coming or newly established screenwriters, the story is different.

Many of them submit their scripts in hopes that one day, a stroke of luck will catapult them to fame and fortune.

This is precisely why Milo, determined to leverage his "borrowed creativity," made registering his scripts with the WGA his first step.

After wrapping up Angels & Demons, Milo was eager to work on a movie that could win awards while also pulling in a solid box office performance.

His choice? Shakespeare in Love, a film he remembered vividly.

He quickly "created" an outline for the script.

Luckily, Milo was cautious and decided to investigate before making anything public.

To his dismay, he discovered that the script for Shakespeare in Love had been registered with the WGA three years prior.

What’s more, Miramax was already planning to produce it.

Fortunately for Milo, his predecessor had a good relationship with Miramax.

That “helpful” Harvey Weinstein had often facilitated Milo’s adventures with Hollywood starlets.

With Wendy’s help, Milo negotiated and acquired the rights to Shakespeare in Love.

---

“By the way, there’s another matter,” Wendy said after discussing Shakespeare in Love.

The chubby man’s expression turned awkward, even a little despondent.

“There was… a mishap regarding the task you asked me to handle in the UK.”

Milo raised an eyebrow. “What happened?”

“You know,” Wendy lowered his voice, “we don’t have much influence overseas. And since it’s London, and you specifically told me not to use family resources, I had to ask our Texas contacts for help.”

“And?”

“They were very eager to assist when they heard it was for you. Mr. Little Shrub gave me several direct lines to London contacts.”

Milo shifted in his seat, irritated. “Get to the point. I hate long-winded explanations.”

Wendy looked even more uncomfortable, clearly avoiding eye contact.

“Well, those contacts… they were personal numbers for some key CIA agents stationed in London.”

Milo sat up straighter, his curiosity piqued.

After all, his grandfather had been the CIA Director—and not just any director but the only one to ever become President of the United States.

Despite serving as director for only a year, his grandfather had completely restructured the CIA, restoring its credibility and improving its public image after his predecessors nearly ran it into the ground.

Given such a legacy, Milo wasn’t surprised that his uncle could easily connect him with prominent CIA personnel.

“And then what?”

“There was… an accident.” Wendy lowered his head, visibly guilty. “Maybe I wasn’t clear enough, or maybe the people on the ground were too reckless. Anyway, the person you wanted me to locate… is dead.”

“WHAT?!” Milo shot up from the couch, blurting out in Mandarin before switching back to English.

“It was a misunderstanding, I swear!” Wendy stammered, his voice barely audible. “Apparently, the instructions got muddled as they were passed along. The guy handling it… well, he accidentally hit the target with his car and sent them into the Thames. By the time they fished the body out, it was too late.”

Milo’s jaw dropped.

What kind of absurdity was this?

This was beyond outrageous!

Wait... or was it kind of convenient?

After a few deep breaths, Milo forced himself to remain calm.

He glared at the remorseful Wendy, adopting a stern demeanor.

“Wendy, you’ve really disappointed me this time.”

“I’m truly sorry…” Wendy looked devastated.

“I asked you to find someone. And now you’re telling me that person is dead?” Milo said sharply.

“It was a mistake… an accident…” Wendy mumbled.

“No excuses.”

Milo’s voice was cold. “Now, go investigate everything about Joanna Rowling—her background, her belongings, and where they ended up. And Wendy? Don’t ever make such a colossal error again.”

---

As Wendy left, crestfallen, Milo stepped out onto the balcony.

“David, where’s Kenny? Got a smoke?” he asked his head of security.

“Kenny’s patrolling the back,” David replied with a smile, handing Milo a cigarette and a lighter.

“Just the cigarette will do.” Milo lit it, took a puff, and handed the lighter back before waving David off.

Back on the second floor, Milo didn’t return to his room. Instead, he walked to the observation deck.

Standing there, he enjoyed the cool breeze and the view of Sunset Boulevard as twilight descended.

He couldn’t help but feel a surge of satisfaction.

He loved this life: the power, the wealth, the women—all things his past self could only dream of.

And to think, this was just the foundation of his future.

So many opportunities lay ahead.

Quietly, Milo muttered to himself.

“Well, dead is dead. At least this way, I’m ten billion dollars richer. Guess I should visit Uncle sometime soon… gotta thank him for looking out for me.”

He chuckled softly. Some family ties were definitely worth maintaining.

(Chapter End)  

Chapter 42: Don’t Want to Act Anymore

While lost in thought, a warm body suddenly hugged him from behind.

Feeling the soft yet firm pressure on his back, Milo was startled out of his reverie. The sensation was indescribably perfect.

“Awake?” Milo gently patted the delicate arms wrapped around his waist and asked softly.

Monica, exhausted from his relentless energy last night, had barely slept and woke up early. After Hector and his brother left, she was too tired and went for a nap.

“Mm-hmm.” Resting her beautiful face against Milo’s back, Monica listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and responded sweetly.

Milo loved the sound of Monica’s voice. Every time she spoke softly, it sent a tingle through his heart. Memories of scenes from her movies he had watched in his previous life would flash through his mind, filling him with a sense of satisfaction and conquest that was hard to contain.

Clearing his throat, Milo tried to suppress the urge to lose himself in the moment. His eyes focused on the silhouette of Sunset Boulevard ahead. “Want to nap a bit longer? There’s not much going on this afternoon.”

As he spoke, he turned and lifted Monica, who was only wearing a thin silk nightgown, into his arms. Amid her delighted laughter, he carried her back into the bedroom.

The ship docks; the sword returns to its sheath.

Breathless, Monica suddenly said, “Honey, I don’t feel like acting anymore.”

“Huh?”

Milo, preoccupied at the moment, didn’t feel like discussing such matters.

First, dock the ship and sheath the sword, then talk.

A long while later, the sun outside was nearing the horizon.

Just as Monica felt she was about to fall apart again, the storm finally calmed. Leaning against the headboard, Milo asked, “Did you say earlier that you don’t want to act anymore?”

“Mm-hmm. I just don’t feel like it anymore.”

“You’re not thinking of quitting to get married, are you?” Milo teased.

Monica’s heart skipped a beat. I wouldn’t mind, she thought. But she knew it wasn’t a possibility.

Shaking her head slightly, Monica snuggled closer, inhaling the faint scent of sweat from his body after their passionate activity.

It was a little musky but oddly comforting.

“I studied law at the University of Perugia,” she began. “Unfortunately, my father’s transport company went bankrupt, and I couldn’t afford to continue my studies.

“To pay tuition, I started modeling in my spare time. Eventually, I realized I could make more money as a model and actress. So, I dropped out and entered the European entertainment industry. A few years later, I came to Hollywood.

“But now...” Monica looked up at him with earnest eyes. “Now that I’ve met you, darling, if you support me, I’d like to finish the education I never completed.”

Milo listened carefully, wondering how much of this was heartfelt and how much was an act.

But then again, women are always acting—playing the good child for their parents, the lady for potential suitors, and the doting partner for their boyfriends or husbands.

Men act too. Interacting with different people often requires putting on a show.

After some thought, Milo asked, “You want to continue studying law?”

Studying law in the U.S. wasn’t easy. It required intense effort, high intelligence, and, of course, money. A strong support system was essential for future success.

“Not necessarily. Law might not suit me,” Monica replied. “I want to go back to school and eventually take the ACT or PT exam here in the U.S.

“Of course, if there’s a role you’d like me to play in the meantime, I’d be happy to take it.”

Milo wasn’t entirely sure of her intentions, but accommodating her request wasn’t difficult.

Without overthinking, he agreed.

December 1995

As December arrived, Los Angeles began to reach its coldest point of the year. However, even then, the lowest temperatures hovered around 50°F, and the ample sunshine made the weather pleasant.

Except for the chilly mornings and evenings requiring a jacket, the rest of the day was quite comfortable. It was wise to carry an umbrella, though, as winter showers could arrive unexpectedly.

The month also heralded the holiday season, with tourism, fashion, entertainment, and Christmas festivities in full swing.

But none of this concerned Milo—he was back to filming.

Shakespeare in Love officially began production on December 1.

This swift progress was thanks to Milo’s proactive preparation after finishing Angels & Demons and the enthusiastic support of Fox Studios. Compared to Disney’s sluggishness, Fox had been far more cooperative, ensuring the project started on time.

December 5

“I need a wide, comprehensive shot,” Milo explained, gesturing with his hands to his cinematographer and assistant director, Wally. “Try to capture the entire mansion, the lawn, and everyone in the frame. Got it?”

“This won’t be a continuous shot, right?” Wally asked.

“No,” Milo confirmed.

After pondering a moment, Wally suggested, “For the first three or four shots, we could use a crane to shoot downward. For the later ones, we could set up a track from there to there and film from right to left. What do you think?”

Milo visualized the scene in his mind and nodded. “That works. Let’s also film in reverse for comparison.”

Wally acknowledged the instructions and rallied the crew to prepare.

Milo turned toward actor Tommy Lee Jones, seated on a chair rehearsing lines with his assistant.

The location was Glassell Park, a small town near Los Angeles, where the production of Shakespeare in Love was underway.

Tommy Lee Jones, a proud Texan with English and Scottish heritage, had attended Harvard University and was once honored as an Ivy League football star.

Milo had been impressed with Tommy’s stellar performance in Angels & Demons and found him to be an excellent fit for the role of Shakespeare, despite being 49 years old. Hollywood’s magic with makeup easily transformed him into a convincing 30-something.

“Hey, Tommy, how’s it going?” Milo greeted him cheerfully.

Dressed in a Renaissance-era nobleman’s outfit, Tommy looked much younger than usual.

“Ready whenever you are,” Tommy replied with a thumbs-up and a bright smile.

Having learned of Milo’s family’s influential connections—his grandfather being a double board member at Harvard and his uncle a governor—Tommy had been eager to work with Milo again. Even if the pay wasn’t high or the film flopped, Tommy trusted his instincts: this movie wouldn’t fail.

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 43: Even Goddesses Can Get Tiresome Over Time*

"Sweetheart? Are you zoning out?"

Los Angeles, Glass Town.

On the set of Shakespeare in Love.

Catherine Zeta-Jones, playing Lady Viola, looked at Milo, who seemed lost in thought in front of the monitor, and couldn’t help but quietly ask.

“Oh, nothing. Just thinking about a few things…”

Milo snapped back to reality, glancing ahead at Tommy Lee Jones and the assistant director, Wally, as they filmed.

After some consideration, Milo’s version of Shakespeare in Love was set.

For the male lead, he chose Tommy Lee Jones.

Originally, he had planned to hold open auditions for the female lead.

But then he remembered that one of the most classically elegant British actresses was right there beside him.

That was Catherine Zeta-Jones.

Once she put on the costume, she embodied the archetypal British noblewoman.

Thus, the lead pair from Angels and Demons was now starring as the lead pair in Shakespeare in Love.

Though the makeup and styling were very different.

Especially for Tommy Lee Jones, who, with the help of makeup, looked at least ten years younger.

Gone was his usual Texas tough-guy image on screen.

Wearing a wig, growing out a bit of stubble, and with his strong acting skills, he projected exactly the look Milo wanted.

The filming began, and they had already been shooting for some time.

Today was December 8th.

It was also the last day of shooting on the Glass Town set.

After finishing today’s scenes, they would return to Hollywood for the indoor scenes.

The reason Milo seemed distracted was that directing a movie had started to feel a bit pointless.

He hadn’t received any formal training, nor was he that interested. He’d started out directing just to impress women.

When they were shooting Angels and Demons, it was fine.

It was his first time, after all.

People tend to feel excited by new experiences.

But over time, the excitement wanes.

Until it becomes dull.

Just as the most beautiful woman has a man somewhere who’s utterly tired of her.

If not, beautiful goddesses wouldn’t find their husbands divorcing them.

In other words, Milo’s feelings toward filmmaking were beginning to fade, just as he’d grown weary of certain relationships.

Unless he switched things up—when it came to women, that’s exactly what he did.

Today it’s Monica, tomorrow Zeta-Jones, the day after that Jolie, and maybe Blanchett after that.

Rotating constantly kept things fresh.

Milo thought to himself: he sure wasn’t making it easy for himself!

When it came to women, he could do as he pleased, but with filmmaking, he had no such option.

Milo also realized something else.

In this alternate timeline, Wally Pfister, who had already proven his talent, could produce better results than Milo in many cases—provided he had a script, storyboard, and suitable actors!

It made sense, really, since this was Wally’s gift, his craft.

Especially with films like Shakespeare in Love and Angels and Demons, which rely heavily on visual storytelling.

Sometimes, Milo’s misguided directions would actually hinder progress.

So, shortly after filming Shakespeare in Love began, Milo handed over most of the shooting responsibilities to Wally.

Having worked together previously, Wally took over smoothly.

In the afternoon, after wrapping the final scene in Glass Town…

The crew returned to Beverly Hills near Hollywood.

Once back at the office, Milo went straight to Paladin Pictures’ marketing department.

Thanks to Wendy’s efforts, Paladin Pictures had grown more professional than before.

The company’s size was now comparable to a medium-sized independent film studio in Hollywood, with departments for production, marketing, PR, investment management, and more.

The first trailer for Angels and Demons had already been released, and the feedback was remarkably positive.

Due to Milo’s involvement, the movie’s production moved swiftly.

Since there wasn’t much in the way of special effects, it mainly relied on visual storytelling.

Post-production was moving quickly as well.

Even though the film wasn’t entirely finished, they could already start promoting it.

Both critics and fans had high expectations for the film.

Reflecting on it, the reason was clear.

While Milo had never made a film before, the success of The Da Vinci Code had earned him significant fame and influence.

Especially among religious leaders in America.

A few months back, they had stirred a media frenzy, using The Da Vinci Code as a focal point of debate.

In the end, whether The Da Vinci Code was blasphemous or whether Milo had truly heard the voice of God became secondary.

The religious leaders simply wanted to defeat one another—or take control of the right to preach.

The tagline promoting Angels and Demons was that it was the prequel to The Da Vinci Code.

And The Da Vinci Code had already sold over three million copies in the U.S.

The first trailer featured suspenseful scenes with religious puzzles.

“We’re all eager to see if Milo, this brilliant writer, can make a movie as captivating as his novels as a director and producer,” The Los Angeles Times wrote in an article.

Of course, some took a more serious approach, like The Hollywood Reporter, which commented:

“Clearly, Angels and Demons is a continuation of The Da Vinci Code. Though it’s a prequel in terms of the storyline, since the novel came first, people will expect it to capture the essence of the book.”

Fox was happy to see this kind of buzz.

They had invested $10 million, so they were eager to step up the promotion.

However, due to various factors, the release might need to be scheduled for the winter season.

In the U.S., there are five major movie seasons and countless smaller ones.

The best season is, of course, summer, from late May through early September. It’s long, coinciding with school vacations, so it’s highly prized by studios.

The winter season begins on the first Friday of the new year and runs until spring break. It’s also good but shorter.

Milo initially hoped to push for a Christmas release.

But after thinking it over, he dropped the idea.

Christmas, like the summer season, is a peak moviegoing period.

Many great films are released around this time, making the competition fierce.

The Christmas season, in particular, is closely followed by Oscar season in the new year.

The closer a movie releases to the end of the year, the more memorable it is for the Academy.

Milo didn’t expect this movie to win any Oscars.

The Academy members would have to be out of their minds to challenge the U.S. religious establishment.

Even if it were award-worthy, they would likely turn a blind eye.

Since Milo wasn’t aiming for awards and lacked the fame and clout to secure a prime Christmas slot, he opted for a winter release instead.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 44: A Beautiful Scene

Basking in the morning light, enjoying the blue skies and white clouds.

This is Los Angeles, a city bathed in sunshine all year round.

Life in Beverly Hills feels so natural, as though time itself slows down.

In the early morning, David was driving up front, with Kenny in the passenger seat.

Seated in the back of a Lincoln sedan, Milo watched as the car exited the villa gates.

Milo didn’t go to the set this morning.

He had a meeting in San Francisco in the afternoon, so he needed to arrive there before noon.

He left the set, the crew, and the storyboard entirely in the hands of Wally Pfister.

After all, Milo felt that Wally could handle it just fine even in his absence.

At worst...

If it came to that, he could drop his director title and settle for being just the producer.

Through the bulletproof window, Milo glanced at the scenery below the winding mountain road.

Nestled among the trees were glimpses of the luxurious yet mysterious mansions of Beverly Hills.

This is where stars and tycoons gather to flaunt their wealth and status, amplifying their fame.

As a result, more wealth flows ceaselessly into their pockets, forming a spiraling cycle of affluence, lifting the residents of this area ever higher, their brilliance shining ever brighter.

Without a doubt, this is the most renowned wealthy enclave on the West Coast.

“Bang! Bang!”

Several sharp sounds, like firecrackers, pierced through the thick bulletproof glass and car doors.

Milo hadn’t yet reacted when David in the driver’s seat suddenly accelerated.

Meanwhile, Kenny, seated in the passenger seat, unbuckled his seatbelt and threw his massive frame over Milo like a bear, shielding him completely.

“F***...”

Milo instinctively tensed up, cursing as he prepared to counter what he thought was an ambush.

But then he remembered the security drills he had done before. He forced himself to relax and pressed into the seat, letting Kenny cover him.

His pupils shrank when he noticed a faint white mark appear on the passenger-side glass—where previously there was nothing.

In the side mirror on the car’s right front, he could even see a gunman aiming at them.

As the car sped forward, David shouted, “Attack! Kenny, is the boss okay?”

Before Kenny could reply, Milo quickly said, “I’m fine, not hit!”

Kenny, still shielding Milo, pulled out a satellite phone and yelled, “David, the boss is safe! Head to the safe house! 35 Milo Street on Rodeo Drive—it’s a CIA safe site! I’ll contact them now!”

“Okay! Protect the boss!” David yelled back as he drove.

Milo tried to calm his suddenly racing heartbeat.

He watched as Kenny finished the call and then reached out his hand. “Give me the phone.”

“I’ve alerted the house and the CIA, but I haven’t called the police yet,” Kenny said quickly.

“That was the Blackburn brothers’ instruction. They told me that if you were attacked here, the first priority is to avoid involving the police or the FBI. We’re heading to CIA territory first!”

Kenny handed the satellite phone to Milo while keeping his body over him in an awkward position to ensure full coverage.

Milo nodded, quickly dialing a local number on the phone.

“Hello?”

“This is Milo Herbert Blackburn. I was shot at outside my villa in Beverly Hills.”

“!!”

“Understood, Mr. Blackburn. I’ll notify Mr. Wilson immediately!”

---

Half an hour later.

At 35 Milo Street on Rodeo Drive, in a windowless but reasonably comfortable living room.

Kenny and David stood close by Milo on either side.

In front of Milo was a middle-aged white man with tanned skin, dressed in a black suit.

“Based on the bullet markings left on the car, the assailant used a handgun. Likely a Czech CZ-82, with a caliber no larger than .28. These pistols are fairly common in Los Angeles and highly sought after by gang members,” the man explained, gesturing as he spoke.

“As for the attacker’s identity, my colleagues are investigating. Someone also called the police. Since this happened in Beverly Hills, LAPD and the FBI should already be on-site.”

“Rest assured, Mr. Blackburn, you are safe here,” he concluded.

Milo nodded and motioned for Kenny to lean down. He whispered a few words into Kenny’s ear.

Kenny’s expression turned serious as he glanced at the CIA officer, hesitating briefly.

Finally, he nodded and left with the satellite phone.

Milo turned to David. “What’s happening at the house?”

“Mr. Aris is already on his way with reinforcements.”

Milo nodded again, then sat silently on the sofa.

For a long time, he didn’t move a muscle.

If not for the sound of his breathing and the occasional blink of his eyes, CIA officer Jones might have thought he was a wax figure.

As time passed, Jones began to feel uneasy.

Sensing this, Milo waved him off. “Mr. Jones, if you have other matters to attend to, please feel free. I’ll wait here for the outcome.”

“Ah, no, I’m fine. I’ll stay here with you,” Jones replied quickly.

Years of working at the CIA hadn’t prepared Jones for Milo’s composure.

He seemed far too calm—unnaturally so for someone his age.

Jones had seen plenty of high-profile figures who’d been attacked.

Even the seemingly composed ones often only managed surface-level calm.

But Milo, sitting there motionless, was different.

This kind of poise was rare, usually seen only in older individuals or well-established leaders.

For someone Milo’s age, it was unheard of.

Suddenly, the phone next to Jones rang.

Relieved, Jones said, “It’s probably my colleagues with news.”

Milo nodded as Jones answered.

A few minutes later, Jones hung up and turned to Milo.

“We’ve apprehended the shooter. He’s a devout believer with a history of mental illness. He used a Czech CZ-82, firing six shots in total. Two missed entirely. One hit your neighbor’s car, another shattered the window of a bodyguard team’s truck, and two struck your car.

“Thankfully, your vehicle was fitted with bulletproof glass and panels, so no harm was done.”

Milo listened, his expression unchanged, and gave a slight nod.

Chapter 45: Aftermath

"Everyone's armed, yet there’s no chaos — so they say.  

But in the land of the free, where gunfights are a daily scene,  

when such a ‘beautiful’ sight lands on your doorstep…  

nobody finds it amusing anymore."

Milo lingered at 35 Milo Street on Rodeo Drive until dusk, staying at the CIA's secret safe house in Beverly Hills. He didn’t leave until Kim Aris and his men came to take over.

Climbing into a black Cadillac, Milo glanced back at the property one last time.

He thought to himself: Next time I pass by here, it’ll probably be a regular civilian facility.  

A safe house that’s no longer secret can’t really be called a safe house anymore.

“Kim, give me the phone.”

Turning around, Milo extended his hand toward the butler in the passenger seat.

Kim Aris handed over the phone without hesitation, as if he’d been expecting the request.

“Grandfather, I’m not dead yet.”

“Of course not. If you had, Los Angeles and Boston wouldn’t be so quiet right now.”

Milo took a deep breath as his grandfather’s calm voice came through the satellite phone. He suddenly said:

“Grandfather, I want full authority over this area. Have Kim and the others cooperate with me.”

There was no immediate response from the other end. For a moment, the silence was filled only with the sound of the elder's measured breathing and Milo’s strong, steady breaths.

After what felt like either seconds or minutes, his grandfather finally spoke:

“Fine, I’ll grant you that. But before you act, you’d better meet with Edward.”

“That’s fine, but I won’t go to South Pasadena. I already called him, but his secretary picked up. If he wants to meet, he can come to our place.”

“I’ll let Edward know. Head back to 9406 Crest Avenue; it’s safe now. Kim already cleaned it before picking you up.”

“Understood. One last question, Grandfather — the main battlefield isn’t here, right?”

“That’s correct.”

“Alright, I get it.”

Milo hung up the call, leaning back in the cushioned seat like it was a sofa. Closing his eyes, he asked:

“Kim, how’s Wendy doing?”

The butler’s composed voice replied from the passenger seat.

“Master Milo, Wendy is under review. His performance has been unsatisfactory.”

Unlike others, Kim’s way of addressing Blackburn men had always been consistent. He never called them “Boss” or “Mr.” — whether referring to Old John, Joseph, Milo, or even the late Paladin.

To him, they were all “Master,” though Milo and Paladin’s titles came with a “young” prefix.

“Other than his job performance, does Wendy have any other issues?”

Kim hesitated briefly before responding, “No.”

“Then let him stay. I’m used to him, and I’d rather not switch assistants for now.”

“As you wish, young Master.”

The car soon approached the vicinity of 9406 Crest Avenue. Unlike its usual calm and bustling atmosphere, tonight the area was packed with parked cars, many flashing police lights. LAPD and FBI logos stood out, along with numerous massive Suburban SUVs.

The Cadillac convoy slowly entered the premises, while any other vehicle trying to pass through the area—whether driven by a Hollywood superstar or a wealthy magnate—was subject to inspection. At least for tonight, that was the rule.

---

Meanwhile, the news of the Beverly Hills shooting had already spread by noon.

Honestly, considering that the U.S. had already seen 11 fatal shootings in the past four months, not to mention countless others unrecorded due to gang violence, today’s incident might not have even drawn media interest if it hadn’t taken place in Beverly Hills.

But because it happened there, reporters and media outlets flocked to cover it, even though no one had died.

By midday, most major TV networks had interviewed witnesses on-site. Still, due to the lack of casualties and subtle efforts to suppress the story, the shooting was expected to fade from public memory quickly—just another addition to America’s endless tally of gun-related incidents.

Yet, for certain people and circles, the ripples from this event continued to spread.

---

At noon, Jimmy, a senior agent at Creative Artists Agency, froze when he first heard the news. After excusing himself with a smile, he retreated to a secluded corner to make a phone call.

“Fuck. How dare he? How the hell does he dare?!”

As the line connected, Jimmy yelled furiously:

“My God! What the hell were you thinking?! I went through hell to get you bailed out, and this is how you repay me? Damn it!”

“What are you talking about? Jimmy, I have no idea what you’re saying. Fuck you, just spit it out already!”

“I’m not buying it! I heard it with my own ears! You said you’d kill him — you swore you would! Oh, damn it!”

“What are you even talking about? I’ve wanted to kill lots of people. Fuck you, I don’t get your point!”

Suppressing his anger, Jimmy explained the news he’d just heard.

“It wasn’t me,” the other man immediately responded. “I may have thought about it and even reached out to people, but I haven’t done anything yet! It wasn’t me!”

Relieved, Jimmy believed him. While his client was prone to reckless decisions, the man was, at his core, still rational. The fiasco at Disney’s party had been an anomaly, brought about by low-profile opposition, drug-induced euphoria, and the overconfidence of repeated success.

“Good. I hope you’re telling the truth,” Jimmy said. “My advice? During your bail period, stay home. No interviews, no going out. Don’t even talk to anyone outside. Got it?”

“Do I really need to be that cautious? I didn’t do anything.”

“Just trust me.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll listen.”

---

By evening, Jimmy was exhausted after making countless calls to gather information, only to find himself out of his depth. All he knew was who had been shot—nothing more.

When his client stopped answering his calls, Jimmy initially thought nothing of it; the man often disappeared for parties, drugs, or indiscretions.

But when even the personal assistant couldn’t be reached, Jimmy’s unease grew.

He drove to the client’s residence, only to find the place eerily quiet and deserted.

Standing at the door, phone in hand, Jimmy hesitated before dialing 911. But then, as if struck by a sudden realization, he slipped the phone back into his pocket, turned around, and left.

He didn’t contact anyone else after that, pretending the whole ordeal had never happened.

(End of Chapter)