Chapter 138: Eternity

Stepping out of a restaurant after lunch, Duke opened the rear door. Once Scarlett climbed inside, he opened the front door, slid into the driver's seat, buckled his seatbelt, and glanced back.

"Are you going home?" Duke asked.

"I don't want to go back." Scarlett instantly shook her head. She leaned over the back of the driver's seat, blinking her expressive eyes. "Are you going to ditch me again, Duke?"

Duke frowned. "I have to go to Malibu this afternoon."

"Aren't you going to look at houses?" The little girl remembered perfectly. "Godmother told me to stick with you today anyway. Besides, you're by yourself. Can I come with you?"

"Fine, but keep the chatter down, Scar!"

Gesturing for Scarlett to sit back, Duke started the Bentley and slowly steered out of the parking lot. "It's getting late. We need to hurry."

"Are you not going to live in North Hollywood anymore?" The little girl's head popped up from the back seat again. Duke had to slow down. "Scar, buckle your seatbelt, or I'm taking you straight home!"

"You're always bullying me!"

She grumbled under her breath, sinking back into her seat to buckle up before asking again, "Are you going to move out of North Hollywood?"

"Yeah..." Duke gave a slight nod.

His current apartment was only a rental. Ever since Independence Day broke $300 million at the North American box office, plenty of paparazzi had marked him as a target. Security at his North Hollywood community was fairly strict, but it couldn't keep out the truly pervasive tabloid hounds. Besides, with his finances growing increasingly comfortable, it was time to buy a house of his own.

Not to mention that current real estate prices were still relatively low. Even just from the perspective of preserving wealth, investing in a luxury home was a good deal.

Driving through the canyons along Highway 1 and crossing into Malibu, Duke soon met up with the real estate agent. Following the man's lead, they headed toward Malibu Beach.

A few days prior, the agent had mailed him photos of several properties. Duke had taken a liking to one in particular and was heading straight for it.

More than ten minutes later, Duke and the real estate agent were standing in front of a mansion.

"This place is nice. It's really quiet and beautiful."

Tugging on Duke's sleeve as she gazed out at the nearby ocean, Scarlett looked incredibly satisfied. "It's huge, too."

Duke shot her a glance, and the little girl immediately clamped her mouth shut.

It was less a seaside villa than a coastal estate. Covering a full three acres, it faced the Pacific Ocean and was backed by the Santa Monica Mountains. The tree-lined private driveway led straight out to Highway 1, making transportation very convenient.

Moreover, the estate occupied its own private cliff, putting a vast amount of distance between it and the neighbors. The uniquely designed Eye-Shaped Villa stood perched on the seaside bluffs, flanked by two smaller guest houses. It even featured a dedicated elevator and a pathway leading down the cliffside to a private beach.

Accompanied by the real estate agent, Duke toured the estate's woods, gardens, outdoor swimming pool, and tennis court. He was generally satisfied. The grove of trees bordering three sides of the property was a particular highlight—not only did it provide landscaping, it also blocked outside lines of sight, effectively protecting the estate's privacy.

"This place was designed by the famous architect John Lautner."

To the real estate agent, Duke was a top-tier client, so he hadn't tried any hard-sell tactics during the tour. Seeing that Duke looked fairly pleased, he finally began to offer some background. "Built in 1962, the previous owner of the house was the famous musician Russ Garcia. Around Los Angeles, this place is known as the stilt house..."

Giving a slight nod, Duke gestured for Scarlett—who was looking around curiously—to follow him. He took the lead and stepped inside the massive Eye-Shaped Villa.

The real estate agent, Lynch, hurried after him and continued his pitch. "There are a total of eleven bedrooms with adjoining sitting rooms and bathrooms. Along with the dining room, living room, and grand banquet hall, there are fifty-three rooms across three floors..."

Listening to the real estate agent, Duke strolled into the living room. He crossed the empty, spotless floor and stepped up to the floor-to-ceiling windows facing the sea. From this vantage point, he had a commanding view of the Pacific Ocean and the beautiful beaches below. The entire estate seemed wrapped in fresh air and a gentle sea breeze. It was the perfect place to escape the bustling chaos of Los Angeles and enjoy a quiet, natural life.

Aside from the house itself, Duke had other factors to consider.

The estate sat right against the Santa Monica Mountains. By taking Highway 1, he could reach the Yacht Marina District in Santa Monica in under half an hour. It was neither too close to his mother's place nor too far away—just the right distance.

Furthermore, the internet age was fast approaching, meaning celebrity privacy would soon become virtually nonexistent. The estate occupied its own isolated bluff. Aside from the side facing the ocean, the other three sides were protected by high walls and towering evergreens. Unless the paparazzi rented a helicopter, they had no chance of peering onto the grounds.

Finally, they took the elevator down to the private beach at the base of the cliff. The beach wasn't particularly large, looking to be less than half an acre. The northern end of the sand was cut off by a jutting rock face, where the previous owner had built a walkway and a tiny dock just big enough to moor a small yacht.

After touring the estate's main facilities, Duke was generally satisfied—except for the price, of course. Even though the US dollar was stronger in this era than it would be in the future, the seller was still asking a high price of $9.5 million!

"Mr. Rosenberg..."

As they walked back to the parking lot, the real estate agent asked politely, "Are you satisfied with the place?"

"It's all right," Duke replied casually.

Even though a large box-office dividend would soon hit his accounts, the asking price still felt a bit inflated to him. He certainly wasn't going to haggle over it personally; Nancy Josephson's assistant would handle the relevant negotiations. Based on the current market, there was definitely room to drive the price down.

"Did you like it, Duke?"

On the drive back, Scarlett Johansson sat in the backseat and asked, "I thought it was really nice! What do you think?"

"It was all right," Duke replied casually.

"Hey, I'm trying to have a serious discussion with you!" Scarlett raised her voice in annoyance.

"I'm being serious, too!"

Despite his words, Duke's attitude hadn't changed in the slightest.

Scarlett angrily puffed out her cheeks. When she realized Duke was completely focused on driving and wasn't going to look back, she let out her deliberately held breath in a huff. Crossing her arms over her chest, she glared at his tall figure in the driver's seat.

"I've figured it out," Scarlett said crisply. "You're definitely going to buy that house. Your eyes gave you away. That house..."

It was completely intentional. For the entire drive from Malibu back to North Hollywood, Scarlett successfully transformed into a chatterbox, torturing Duke's ears in the way he hated most.

The result was that the moment they entered North Hollywood, Duke turned straight onto the road leading to the Burbank suburbs. Ignoring Scarlett Johansson's protests, he forcefully took her home.

"I'm going to remember this, Duke!"

Stepping out of the car, the little girl looked so wronged she seemed ready to burst into tears at any second. "Remember how you always used your age advantage to bully me when I was little! When I grow up, I'm going to get you back, I swear! I swear I'm going to settle the score with you!"

The little girl stomped angrily toward her front door, seemingly refusing to spare Duke a single backward glance. But just as she opened the door to step inside, she saw the familiar Bentley still parked in its spot, and the corners of her lips curled up unconsciously.

But before that flicker of joy could fully bloom, the sharp crash of something like porcelain hitting the floor echoed from the kitchen. It was instantly followed by the sound of a man and a woman arguing, their argument punctuated by the sound of more things being smashed...

This exact scene had played out countless times over the past year. Scarlett stood frozen in the doorway, staring toward the kitchen as the corners of her mouth slowly fell. Her eyes—one blue, one green—filled with confusion and heartbreak, making her look as if she had been entirely abandoned.

No one paid attention to her, and no one cared. Even her older brother, who had opened the door for her, marched upstairs without sparing her a single backward glance, let alone offering a comforting look.

The proud little head that the girl usually held so high slowly drooped. Tears gradually welled up in her large eyes, but she stubbornly refused to let them fall.

After spending barely a minute inside the house, Scarlett Johansson turned around, pushed the front door open, and walked right back outside. Head bowed, she swayed aimlessly like a little zombie, trudging toward the front gate.

Duke had just started the car when he saw Scarlett push open her front door and walk dejectedly toward him. She looked completely drained of her usual mischievous, playful energy.

Although he didn't know exactly what had happened, Duke opened his door and walked over. The little girl seemed completely zoned out, not even noticing him.

"Scar, what happened?"

Hearing his familiar voice, Scarlett looked up at Duke. As if she had found her target, she bypassed him completely and headed straight for the Bentley. Duke hurried after her.

Watching the little girl expertly pull open the car door and buckle herself in without saying a word, Duke climbed into the driver's seat. He looked back and asked, "Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

Scarlett looked up, studying Duke seriously for a moment before she said in a soft voice, "They're fighting again. No one pays attention to me, and no one cares about me."

"Can I stay with you, Duke?" She looked at him with pleading eyes. "Even though you're mean and you love bullying me, and you always lose your temper at me for no reason... I know you actually care about me."

Hearing the first half of that, Duke was so annoyed his nose almost twisted. But hearing the second half, all he could do was sigh. He had already gathered from her previous phone call that Scarlett Johansson's home life wasn't great right now—it seemed her parents' relationship was in serious trouble.

"All right, we'll go to Santa Monica." Duke started the car. "I'll call your house later."

"Can I sleep at Godmother's house tonight?" she asked hopefully.

"If you want to."

He could just dump her with his mother as soon as they got home anyway; he wouldn't have to deal with it himself. If possible, he would just drop her off and drive straight back to his apartment in North Hollywood.