Tycoon Actor C486

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction set in an alternate timeline. References to real people or events are fictionalized. Any resemblance to actual events or individuals is purely coincidental.

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The three shooters couldn’t bear to meet his gaze—even though they were nothing more than mental projections conjured by Mind Workshop.

Lucas sat across from them once more, this time softening his expression. He leaned forward, voice gentle. “Who wants me dead?”

He had adopted the persona of a kind, understanding man—hoping empathy might coax the truth out of them. But even in this imagined space, their silence held firm.

They had already admitted their regret. That alone confirmed they were the shooters—there was no escaping that now. But when it came to naming the mastermind? Their mouths stayed shut like vaults.

Lucas ran the simulation three times.

In the second iteration, he played the role of an angry, vengeful man—he even struck Kenny across the face in frustration. Still, not a word.

In the third, he played the saint: calm, compassionate, almost naïve in his kindness.

Nothing.

He tried everything—questioning them as characters he’d once portrayed. He wore the madness of the Joker. The nobility of Rob Stark. Each role came with its own tactics, its own psychological push.

Still, nothing.

‘Why are they protecting the mastermind so hard?’ Lucas thought, staring at the stubborn trio. ‘It’s like they’d rather rot than speak.’

He exhaled sharply and sat back, letting go.

‘Maybe I’ve been trying too hard to be someone else,’ he reflected. ‘Roles, performances… masks. But I never tried facing them as just me.’

He could feel the simulation starting to waver. The Mind Workshop was nearing its limit. One last try.

‘This time… I’ll go in as Lucas Knight. But not the version that snapped. The version who’s in control.’

The scene reset.

Lucas sat down across from the three once again. Their heads were lowered, avoiding his eyes, just like always.

He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t act.

“Why did you do it?” he asked quietly.

That time, there was a flicker—a subtle shift in the air. Kenny flinched.

Lucas noticed. He leaned in slightly, not letting the moment pass. “Was it desperation? Were you that broke? That hopeless? Is that why you took a job that could destroy your life?”

Still, silence. But now, there was tension in their shoulders. A crack in the armor.

Lucas’s gaze hardened just a little. He wasn’t done yet.

"A human action—especially one this serious—always has a reason," Lucas said quietly. "No one just wakes up and decides to kill. There must’ve been something that pushed you all to the edge."

He expected silence again—but to his surprise, the woman lifted her head.

"You're right," she said. "We took the job because we had no choice."

Kenny and John turned sharply toward her.

"Shelly—" Kenny began.

But Shelly held firm, her eyes meeting Lucas's without flinching. "It’s true. If I didn’t take the job, my son would’ve died."

Lucas’s expression shifted. "Your son?"

She nodded, voice cracking. "He had a sports injury. A bad fall during football practice. Skull fracture. He's in critical care." Her fists trembled in her lap. "I needed the money for his treatment. I didn’t think it would come to... this."

Lucas exhaled slowly and looked at the others.

"And you two?"

Kenny hesitated, then sighed. "I’ve got debt. A lot. If I die, fine, but I didn’t want my family carrying that burden."

John added, "Same here. I met Kenny in Vegas. We gambled, we lost. I was desperate. My wife has no idea."

Lucas took it all in, nodding slightly. "So you were cornered... and this job was your escape route."

The three nodded, subdued.

Lucas’s tone softened. "Then why stay silent about who hired you?"

They looked at one another. This time, it was Shelly who answered again.

"Because if we talk... our families are dead." Her voice was almost a whisper.

Lucas’s heart skipped.

"The mastermind... he knows your families?"

Kenny nodded grimly. "Yes. He made that clear."

"We didn’t speak to him directly," John explained. "We dealt with a middleman. They call him the Fixer. He connects people to the mastermind."

Lucas leaned forward. "So you don't know who the mastermind is?"

John shook his head, then hesitated. "Not exactly. But... we have suspicions. We always kept a trace, just in case they tried to screw us. If they did, we’d use it as leverage. But now..." He sighed. "Now we’re sitting ducks, and they probably don’t even know we’ve been caught."

Lucas’s voice turned urgent. "Can you tell me who you think it is—?"

But just as he pressed the question, the air shifted. Lucas felt the pull—his Mind Workshop shuddering.

In the blink of an eye, the simulation collapsed, and he was yanked back into reality.

He blinked, disoriented. The room came back into view, the real world reasserting itself.

Lucas sat there for a moment, processing. Though the session had ended too soon, he’d gotten something valuable.

‘That’s fine,’ he thought, brushing his fingers over his forehead. ‘I’ve got just enough to take back into the real interrogation.’

Lucas saw that only a few seconds had passed in the real world—yet inside his Mind Workshop, it had felt like hours.

Just then, Darren exited the interrogation room, his expression tight. “They’re still holding out. I tried everything I could. Sorry, Lucas.”

He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess I’ll have to dig through their phones, see if I can trace the client from there—”

“We can’t risk that,” Lucas cut in, his voice firm. “It’ll take too long. And if the mastermind realizes those three are in custody, they’ll act fast—maybe even silence them. We might lose our only chance to connect the dots.”

Darren nodded slowly. “You’re right. And even if we dig something up, it might not be enough to identify who’s pulling the strings.”

Jennifer crossed her arms, concern written on her face. “So what now? They’re like a stone wall.”

Lucas took a step forward, his eyes sharp but composed. “I have a plan.”

Jennifer blinked. “You do?”

Lucas just smiled and walked toward the room.

Jennifer stared after him. That smile… She hadn’t seen it in a while—calm, confident, yet quietly intense. ‘What are you thinking, Lucas?’

Inside the room, the three shooters didn’t even glance up as Lucas entered. He sat across from them, his posture relaxed, his tone softer than before.

“It must’ve been hard,” Lucas began. “To be driven into something like this. A mother with a sick child. Two men drowning in debt...”

The three froze.

Outside, the detectives watching through the one-way glass glanced at each other, confused.

“What’s he talking about?” one whispered.

Jennifer leaned in, eyes narrowing. ‘They’re reacting... he got to them somehow.’

Back in the room, the three sat frozen.

They knew the phones they’d used for the hit were fresh burners—clean, untraceable. No personal details, no connections to their real lives.

So how the hell did he know?

Shelly’s voice cracked the silence, fragile and shaken. “How did you know about my son?”

Kenny looked at John, then back at Lucas, wary. “And the debts... how could you know that?”

Lucas gave a soft, sympathetic smile. “I also know the mastermind threatened your families. That if you talked, they’d be the ones to pay the price.”

All three stiffened in their seats.

Outside the glass, a detective murmured, “Wait—how the hell...?”

Jennifer leaned forward, heart pounding. ‘This wasn’t a bluff. Not with how rattled they looked.’

Lucas’s voice remained calm but firm. “And I know you never met the mastermind directly. Only the middleman. The Fixer.”

A stunned breath left Shelly’s lips. Kenny visibly recoiled. John’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

“You’re not guessing...” John muttered, staring at Lucas like he was some kind of psychic. “You really know.”

Inside their heads, panic began to swirl. ‘If he knows this much... then maybe he’s already closing in on the Fixer. Maybe even the mastermind. And if that’s true... our families are next.’

Just as despair was starting to sink in for the three, Lucas leaned forward, his tone gentle.

“I know your silence isn’t out of guilt. It’s fear,” he said. “You’re protecting your families... because you think speaking out will get them killed.”

Kenny lowered his eyes, his fingers slightly trembling. It wasn’t his own life he feared losing—it was theirs.

“You’re right again…” Shelly admitted softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lucas’s gaze softened. “Then let me offer you something. I’ll ensure your families are protected. I can cover your son’s medical bills, Shelly. And I’ll take care of the debts you two owe,” he said, glancing at Kenny and John. “But I need the truth. All of it. Just be honest.”

The three exchanged silent looks. Something in Lucas’s voice—its warmth, its certainty—cut through their defenses.

Then, with a shared breath of surrender, they began to speak.

Outside the room, Jennifer, Darren, and the detectives stood frozen in awe.

“…He did it,” one of the officers muttered.

---

The three told the truth. They had been contacted by a middleman named “Victor.”

With the help of a sketch artist, the police managed to get a facial composite—and soon after, they identified the man. He wasn’t just anyone. Victor was a minor actor with no real standing in Hollywood, yet he was living a luxurious life that didn’t match his public profile.

More alarmingly, records showed he frequently visited a number of high-profile inmates in prison.

That detail sparked alarm.

The police finally had a lead.

They moved fast. Within hours, they raided Victor’s residence. Sure enough, they found him lounging in a lavish home that raised more questions than answers.

Victor cracked almost immediately.

What he revealed sent shockwaves through the investigative team. The man he reported to—the mastermind—was someone they all recognized.

When they cross-checked Victor’s visitation history, the answer became undeniable.

And when that name reached Lucas and Jennifer, it felt like a cold wave crashing down.

Lucas froze. Then muttered, “That old man… How did I not see this coming? He always had a grudge.”

Jennifer clutched his arm, concerned. “What are you going to do?”

Lucas’s eyes hardened. “I’m going to make sure he rots in prison for the rest of his life. I won’t let him get away with this.”

“That’s the right thing to do,” Jennifer agreed softly.

A pause.

Then Lucas added, “And... I want to see him. Face to face.”

Jennifer’s brows lifted. “Are you serious?”

Lucas gave a calm smile. “Don’t worry. He can’t hurt anyone anymore.”

---

The prison was in New York, not far from Lucas’s current location. With a quick but discreet trip—dressed down and hooded to avoid attention—he arrived with only Simon by his side.

The correctional facility processed his request swiftly. After all, even behind bars, the man Lucas had come to see still carried a heavy name.

Lucas sat alone in the visitation room, the thick glass in front of him reflecting his still expression. He didn’t have to wait long.

A door opened. Shuffling feet. Then the old man appeared.

Harvey Sr.

His once-imposing frame had withered with time. His eyes were tired, his skin pale—but the smirk on his lips still reeked of arrogance.

“Well, well…” Harvey chuckled, settling into the seat opposite Lucas. “Didn’t expect my little movie star to pay me a visit. What’s the occasion? Miss me?”

Lucas didn’t blink. “Seems your grudge runs deeper than I thought. You actually ordered my assassination.”

Harvey lifted an eyebrow, then laughed—light, mocking. “Assassination? Come on, Lucas. That’s a bit dramatic, even for you.”

“Victor talked,” Lucas replied flatly. “And the shooters confirmed everything.”

The smirk dropped.

Harvey went silent for a moment, then gave a low chuckle. “Took you long enough.”

Lucas’s eyes narrowed. “Why, Harvey? Why go that far?”

The old man’s expression changed. His hands slammed against the glass. “Because you ruined me!” he snapped, eyes burning with fury. “You turned the entire goddamn industry against me! I built that world, Lucas! I made stars, I created legacies—and you? You dragged me through the mud like some cheap scandal.”

“You brought it on yourself,” Lucas said coldly. “You abused your power. You destroyed lives.”

Harvey’s breath grew ragged. He glared at Lucas—then suddenly chuckled again, sitting back down as if the outburst never happened.

“Maybe I did,” he said with a grin. “Maybe I went a little overboard here and there. But I wasn’t the only monster in that industry. I was just the one who got caught.”

Lucas didn’t reply.

Harvey leaned closer to the glass. “And you. You walked out of that storm like some golden boy. Everyone loves you. Lucas the savior. Lucas the reformer. But deep down, you're just like the rest of us.”

Lucas's voice was ice. “You don’t get to decide who I am.”

Harvey stared at him for a long moment—his expression twitching between a grin and a sneer. “You're still acting, even now. Always the hero. But you can’t save everyone, Lucas. Not your girlfriend. Not the industry. Not even yourself.”

Lucas stood up slowly. “You’re wrong. I don’t need to save everyone. Just enough to make a difference.”

Harvey looked at him, a shadow passing over his face. Then he smiled—gentler, but somehow more unsettling.

“You know… you remind me of me when I was young. Just... less fun.”

Lucas should’ve felt hatred.

But as he looked at Harvey—older, thinner, and visibly worn by years behind bars—what he felt instead was pity.

‘Prison hasn’t been kind to him…’ Lucas thought. ‘He’s aged. He’s not the man he once was.’ For a brief moment, he even considered requesting a transfer—perhaps to a better facility with improved conditions. Not for Harvey’s sake, but because Lucas didn’t believe in cruelty for the sake of it.

Without another word, Lucas turned to leave.

Just as the guards reached for the door, Harvey’s voice rang out behind him.

“Hey, Lucas. Just one thing before you go—good luck.”

Lucas paused.

“Because that middleman, Victor? He was just a messenger,” Harvey went on, smirking. “Someone else introduced him to me. Someone who hates you just as much.”

Lucas slowly turned. “Who?”

Harvey laughed—high, bitter, almost manic. “I won’t tell you! Hahaha! Why would I ruin the surprise?”

Lucas’s jaw clenched. His fists curled at his sides.

‘Another one?’ he thought grimly, biting his lip.

Without another word, he turned back toward the door and walked out.

---

The next few days, the media went into a frenzy.

The NYPD had just announced the arrest of the three suspected shooters involved in the assassination attempt on Lucas Knight—and more importantly, that the suspects were now willing to testify in court. The news alone was headline-worthy.

But it didn’t stop there.

The police had also captured a key middleman, a man who allegedly connected the shooters to the mastermind. Even more shocking: they now claimed to have a solid lead on the person behind it all.

The public was stunned. The speed of the investigation and arrests was almost unheard of.

Social media exploded.

“They caught the shooters and the guy who hired them? What kind of CSI magic is going on in NYPD right now?”

“If they already know who the mastermind is, why not just name them? Unless it’s someone really powerful.”

But the NYPD wouldn’t budge.

No names. No hints. Just a firm statement from the commissioner during a press conference:

“The integrity of this ongoing investigation is paramount. We will not disclose the mastermind’s identity until formal charges are filed. Please respect the process.”

Still, reporters weren’t satisfied.

“Can you confirm if the mastermind is someone from the entertainment industry?”

“Is it true the suspect has prior legal troubles?”

“Is Lucas Knight cooperating with investigators on further leads?”

All questions were met with the same professional but tight-lipped response.

“No further comment at this time.”

---

Meanwhile, Joel—the Netflix documentary director—called Lucas the moment he saw the news.

“Jesus, this is insane,” Joel said. “Now it makes sense why you and Jennifer dipped out of the shoot so suddenly. You guys flew to New York, huh?”

Lucas chuckled lightly, “Yeah. Long story.”

Joel didn’t waste time. “So, uh… any chance we could interview the shooters? If that’s even on the table?”

Lucas nodded, though his tone was careful. “It should be fine. I’ll speak with the chief and see if it’s possible under legal boundaries.”

Joel exhaled a breath of relief. “Appreciate it. But here’s the thing—if the police already figured out who the mastermind is… doesn’t that make our documentary kind of pointless? I mean, if it’s all wrapped up, where’s the story now?”

Lucas smiled faintly. “It’s still a story about more than just catching someone. It’s about what happened. About me, the survivors, the victims... the monsters we fought behind the scenes. People will watch it because it's real. It's not just a whodunit—it’s about the cost of staying silent.”

He paused, then added with a darker edge in his voice, “And I don’t think it’s over yet. When I spoke with the mastermind, he mentioned that the middleman was introduced by someone else. Someone who also has a grudge against me.”

Joel went quiet for a beat.

“So... there’s still another puppet master out there?”

Lucas sighed. “Seems that way. Unfortunately.”

Joel groaned. “Well, good for the producers. Bad for humanity.”

Then Joel’s voice shot up again, “Hold up, did you just say you talked to the mastermind? Like... face-to-face?”

Lucas winced slightly at his slip. “Yeah. Kind of. It hasn’t been made public yet, but the police and I are confident about who it is.”

Joel practically shouted, “Oh my god—can we get him on camera?! Just one sit-down?”

Lucas let out a wry laugh. “Yeah, not gonna happen. At least not until it’s made official. And even then... we’ll see.”

As the call ended, Lucas put his phone down with a sigh.

He thought about Harvey. That pathetic, bitter man behind the glass. And the shooters, too—their desperation, their broken reasons.

‘We are granted free will, but the price is chaos,’ he thought. ‘We have freedom, but we trap ourselves. We seek peace, but the cost is war.’

He leaned back in his chair, eyes distant.

‘We love this world, but we destroy it to serve our desires. We love life, yet we kill to preserve our version of it.’

‘Is this the price of living a life? Does it really have to be this cruel?’

He thought of Shelly and her sick son.

Of Kenny, drowning in debt.

Of John, gambling for a way out for his family.

‘They tried to kill so their loved ones could live...’

And Lucas wasn’t sure whether to be angry—or heartbroken.