Chapter 403: Truly Terrifying

With the Van Helsing matters settled, Michael Ovitz swept his gaze across the banquet hall and locked onto a woman with chocolate-colored skin. His brow furrowed as uncontrollable anger surged, but the thought of his recent decision gradually cooled his temper.

She was a client Artists Management Company was about to drop anyway. Why get worked up over it?

He started toward them. Seeing the French producer chatting intimately with her, Ovitz marveled that the world truly held all kinds of men—some could apparently even stomach a venereal disease.

Then again, after so many years in Hollywood, Michael Ovitz had seen every kind of freak imaginable. Jessica Alba and her boyfriend were merely one bizarre pair among many.

He walked up to the couple and said point-blank, "Jessica, we need to find a place to talk."

He normally wouldn't deal with such a minor actress personally, but rumors suggested James Cameron might be backing her, so Ovitz had to show at least a modicum of respect.

But respect didn't mean he was going to keep the biggest laughingstock in Hollywood on the company roster.

Without waiting for a reply, Ovitz headed straight for a lounge. He waited inside for barely a dozen seconds before Jessica Alba and her boyfriend walked in.

Ovitz frowned slightly but brushed it off. After tonight, she would no longer be his problem anyway.

"Hi, Michael—" Jessica Alba had just opened her mouth when Ovitz cut her off.

"Miss Alba, I am formally notifying you that Artists Management Company is terminating your representation contract."

Jessica Alba looked incredulous. "What?"

"You can have your lawyer come to the company tomorrow to handle the paperwork."

Sweeping a look of disgust over her sweet face, Ovitz turned and left the lounge without another word.

"How... how could this happen?" Jessica Alba murmured, looking dazed.

A smile flashed across Christophe Rocancourt's face, vanishing instantly as he arranged his features into a mask of tender comfort. "Darling, don't let it bother you. Don't forget, you're about to become the female lead in a $160 million blockbuster. Agencies will be fighting tooth and nail to sign you."

Jessica Alba gazed at him affectionately, her dazed expression vanishing without a trace. "A loser beaten to a pulp by Duke Rosenberg isn't worth my time anyway! Come on, Chris, now is a great time to pull in investments."

She tilted her head up to kiss Christophe Rocancourt, then marched out of the lounge with even more enthusiasm than him, ready to launch her grand persuasion campaign.

But Christophe Rocancourt did not follow her out immediately. Once the lounge door closed, he pulled out a tissue and rubbed it furiously over the spot she had kissed. His face twisted in disgust as he scrubbed his lips over and over until the skin actually broke. Only then did he exit the lounge.

Many people in the banquet hall were his targets: Stephen Sommers, Rachel Weisz, Steven Soderbergh, Ben Affleck, George Clooney...

Of course, empty words alone were hardly convincing. That was why he had meticulously prepared the business plan and used various channels to hint that Duke was highly likely to join the project after Return of the King.

Christophe Rocancourt wasn't worried about anyone fact-checking him. Ever since crossing paths with Duke last year, he had thoroughly investigated the famous director. The man's social circle was incredibly narrow; he maintained no non-professional relationships with the vast majority of the industry, and very few people could contact him directly.

Therefore, he carefully avoided anyone closely associated with Duke, such as Leonardo DiCaprio and Sofia Coppola.

Everyone else had to rely on indirect inquiries, and over the past year, Christophe Rocancourt had laid enough groundwork and deployed enough smokescreens to ensure that indirect inquiries would not necessarily uncover the truth.

True, the majority wouldn't blindly throw their money around, but as long as a select few were blinded by greed and took the bait, it would be enough.

Having navigated Hollywood for a decade, Christophe Rocancourt knew exactly how easily money could flow in this industry. Take the shell company he had established—much like the ones used by most directors and producers. Thanks to his recent efforts, its books already boasted nearly $20 million in investments!

His investors included newly famous actors and directors, as well as retired producers and filmmakers. As a seasoned veteran who had survived in Hollywood for ten years without blowing his cover, Christophe Rocancourt always had a way to make a compelling pitch.

Making the rounds through the banquet hall, he smoothly pitched to nearly thirty people. To all outward appearances, Christophe Rocancourt possessed far more elegance and confidence than Hollywood's most successful elites. Backed by Jessica Alba, and bolstered when Mickey Rourke and Demi Moore later arrived to lend their support, he won people over with ease.

Yet even with all of that, only three or four people showed any intention to invest.

Still, that was enough for Christophe Rocancourt. He knew not to overplay his hand at this kind of event, and in a place as sprawling as Hollywood, the number of potential targets was virtually limitless.

In truth, whenever he thought of the funds sitting in his shell company's account and the loan Jessica Alba was about to secure against her property, the fleeting thought of stopping while he was ahead would cross his mind. But he had already set the gears of a massive scheme into motion. How could he walk away without pulling off one monumental score?

The capital he had amassed served largely as his credentials and bait. It was meant to prove to that billionaire director that he was a qualified, serious player, luring the man into committing a much larger investment of his own!

Once he pulled off this single deal, his career as a Hollywood producer could permanently end. He would never have to endure the filthy, repulsive Jessica Alba ever again. He could simply slip into a prearranged identity and vanish to a country with no extradition treaty with America.

However, ever since he had delivered the business plan and script into Nancy Josephson's hands, Christophe Rocancourt hadn't made a single phone call to check on its progress. For any master hunter, patience was the most fundamental trait of all.

A crisp breeze rolled in off the Pacific Ocean, sweeping away the last lingering heat over Malibu Beach. Duke shut off the air conditioning and slid the glass window open. The sea breeze poured immediately through the bug screen and into the study of the Eye-Shaped Villa, instantly clearing his slightly groggy head.

Returning to his seat behind the desk, Duke picked up the script and business plan Nancy had left behind.

He was always one to plan ahead. He had a vague idea of what his path would look like after The Lord of the Rings trilogy, but no clear direction. Perhaps the final glory of Napoleon the Great would be a solid choice?

Both the script and the business plan were highly enticing, but Duke still couldn't shake the misgivings he had felt during his first meeting with the man who brought him the project.

Setting the script down, Duke picked up a dossier. It was Christophe Rocancourt's background profile, delivered personally by Nancy.

The man was no fresh transplant; he had been active in Hollywood for ten years. He was genuinely on good terms with numerous celebrities, including Mickey Rourke, Jean-Claude Van Damme, and Demi Moore, and he had indeed financed a few low-budget productions costing a few hundred thousand dollars apiece. However, those films belonged to the absolute bottom rung of Hollywood. There was no way to verify exactly how much capital he had injected into them or what his final returns looked like.

A knock sounded at the door before his housekeeper, Emma, pushed it open.

"Attorney Al Ryder is here," she said.

Duke nodded. "Let him in."

This was Duke's new lawyer. His previous attorney had retired and recommended the man, and the two had been working together for almost a year now.

"Hi, Duke."

He was a man around forty with a thick head of black hair.

"Have a seat, Al." Duke stood up and shook his hand.

Just as the two sat down, Emma brought in their coffee and swiftly exited the study.

"How are things looking?" Duke asked.

Ignoring the coffee, Al Ryder pulled a file from his briefcase and handed it across the desk. "I looked into Christophe Rocancourt's passport and credit history. Everything is clean."

He kept his report as concise as possible. "His passport and travel history show his first arrival in America was during the summer of 1991. He currently holds high-limit credit cards with Citibank and Bank of America, has no loans or negative credit marks, and even maintains several hundred thousand dollars in deposits at Citibank."

'Am I really just overthinking things?' Duke knew he could be overly cynical in his view of the world.

"What about his studio?" he asked.

"Gallic Film Studio, which operates under Christophe Rocancourt's name, was incorporated in Delaware in 1996," Al Ryder said, recalling the details. "Like the vast majority of film studios in Hollywood, it's a shell company. Solid records prove that over the last few years, Gallic Film Studio has funded six small productions, including Brutal, California Wolves, and Triumph of the Loner. The exact investment amounts and profit margins are unclear, but going by their tax filings, they definitely turned a profit."

"Al..." Duke mused for a moment before slowly asking, "What's your take on this studio?"

"It looks a lot like Duke Studio did in its early days," Al Ryder said bluntly. "It's a typical shell company set up for investments and tax avoidance."

Duke nodded and continued discussing the matter with Attorney Al Ryder for a while. The conclusion they ultimately reached aligned perfectly with the dossier Nancy had brought him—no matter how you sliced it, there were no red flags.

Every verifiable document indicated that Christophe Rocancourt was a legitimate French producer with a ten-year track record in Hollywood.

After seeing his lawyer out, Duke picked up the business plan again. Like any other man, he was driven by ambition and a desire for profit, and this proposal undoubtedly aligned with his future interests.

His gaze sweeping over the investigative files one last time, Duke picked up the phone and dialed his agent's number.

"Nancy, set up a meeting with him," he said.