Chapter 414: Ovitz's Magical Plan

"Jessie, I just suspect you've been deceived." Cupping her coffee mug in both hands, Michelle Rodriguez wore a look of deep sisterly concern. "You'd better go back and ask around. There is definitely something wrong with Christophe Rocancourt."

"How is that possible... How could that be..."

Unwilling and afraid to believe it, Jessica Alba looked utterly dazed. "What you're saying can't be true. It absolutely isn't true."

A smile flashed at the corner of Michelle Rodriguez's mouth and vanished. Just moments ago, Jessica Alba had been preening like a proud princess right in front of her, showing off her leading role in a so-called blockbuster. Now, she had gone from a princess to a wild pheasant cowering in a dark corner, too afraid to face reality.

At the very beginning, she had competed for the film's female lead herself, only for Jessica Alba to barge in and snatch it away. Michelle Rodriguez had held onto that grudge ever since.

Without hesitation, she dropped a heavy bombshell. "Don't forget, I invested $500,000 in your project too. Do you think I want this to be fake?"

"Besides, my information came from Duke Rosenberg and Frank Pierson. While Duke was negotiating with Christophe Rocancourt, he had someone investigate him..."

Jessica Alba's once-radiant brows drooped, her usually sweet face completely overtaken by a miserable, crestfallen expression. She had no idea how she left that café, or how she drove back to the house she rented with Christophe Rocancourt.

Right now, she only had one thought in mind: confront that bastard!

Jessica Alba pulled the door open and walked inside. Christophe Rocancourt was lounging on the sofa, leisurely sipping red wine. He was in high spirits as usual, as if that massive project of his were actually going to happen.

"Hey, darling." Christophe Rocancourt saw Jessica Alba walk in looking utterly dazed. "Didn't you have plans to grab coffee with someone? Back so soon?"

Hearing her boyfriend's voice, Jessica Alba snapped out of her trance. Forcing herself to focus, she walked over, sat down across from Christophe Rocancourt, and stared straight at him.

"What's wrong?" Christophe Rocancourt asked, a little puzzled.

Jessica Alba steadied her nerves, her expression gradually hardening into an interrogating stare. "Are you really preparing to produce a blockbuster?"

A flash of surprise crossed Christophe Rocancourt's eyes, though he maintained his composure well enough. "Darling, haven't you been involved this whole time?"

'Could this stupid woman have caught on to something?'

He quickly followed up, "Did something happen, Jessie?"

"You're still lying to me even now!" Jessica Alba shot to her feet. "Duke Rosenberg already had someone dig up your entire past!"

"What?" Christophe Rocancourt lost all composure and bolted to his feet, practically lunging across to grab Jessica Alba by the shoulders. "What did you say?"

"You liar!"

Catching Christophe Rocancourt completely off guard, Jessica Alba raised her arm and slapped him across the face with a sharp crack. "You vile, shameless liar!"

Christophe Rocancourt froze for a split second before snapping back to his senses and backhanding her across the face. The blow landed with tremendous force, sending Jessica Alba staggering backward to collapse onto the sofa.

She glared at Christophe Rocancourt with pure hatred. "You dare hit me? You're finished! Duke Rosenberg already found out who you really are, and those investors will never let you off the hook!"

Hearing that, Christophe Rocancourt didn't need any further confirmation. He cast Jessica Alba a single glance and strode toward the study without a second's hesitation.

He knew all too well just how serious it was for his scheme to be exposed, not to mention everything else from his past...

If those people called the police and he got caught, he would have to face the furious faces of countless big names. What kind of fate would await him then?

Stepping into the study, Christophe Rocancourt pulled out a suitcase he had prepared well in advance, opened the safe, and stuffed several passports along with stacks of cash inside.

Less than a minute later, a tall figure appeared in the study.

"You can't leave!" Clutching a Mobile Phone, Jessica Alba blocked the doorway to the study. "I put $1.5 million into your project and took out mortgages on two properties! Don't even think about walking out like this!"

Christophe Rocancourt ignored her completely and kept packing his suitcase.

He had to get out as fast as possible. If he moved quickly, he might still be able to have his accountant wire away the funds they had already secured as bait. Even without getting his hands on Duke Rosenberg's massive payout, those tens of millions of dollars would be more than enough for him to live a carefree life from here on out.

"Did you hear me?!" Jessica Alba screamed again. "Give me back my money, or I'm calling the police!"

Christophe Rocancourt snapped the suitcase shut and slowly straightened up, his eyes brimming with mockery as he looked at Jessica Alba. "Go right ahead and call the police. Don't forget, darling—you were right beside me when I brought in most of those investments, and you helped me talk plenty of people into them. Legally speaking, you're my accomplice..."

"You..." Jessica Alba glared at him, her hand holding the Mobile Phone slowly sinking to her side as she murmured under her breath, "I won't let you get away with this. I will absolutely not let you get away with this."

"Hmph..." Christophe Rocancourt let out a cold laugh, as if venting all the disgust that had built up inside him over the past few days. "Sure, I'm a liar, but what makes you any better? STDs, cheating, sleeping around, doing drugs... Ha, how many people in Hollywood have caught an STD like you? Just thinking about having slept with you makes me sick to my stomach!"

At that, Christophe Rocancourt forced down the urge to retch. Dropping any pretense of hiding the revulsion in his eyes, he strode toward the doorway where Jessica Alba stood, ready to flee Los Angeles as fast as he could.

After ten years in Hollywood, he knew that in this country, money all too often meant power. Now that his cover was blown, the man he had crossed was a heavyweight worth at least a billion dollars!

"Out of my way!" he said coldly, walking right up to the doorway Jessica Alba was blocking.

"You can't leave!"

With everything she owned riding on this so-called blockbuster project, Jessica Alba wasn't about to let him walk away. She reached out and grabbed the suitcase in Christophe Rocancourt's left hand.

A vicious glint flashed in Christophe Rocancourt's eyes. Fighting back his disgust, he seized a fistful of her long brown hair and yanked her violently into the study. Jessica Alba let out a shrill scream, her hands reflexively letting go of the suitcase to clutch at her head.

"Don't overestimate yourself!" Christophe Rocancourt said coldly, clamping a hand around Jessica Alba's throat and shoving her deeper into the room.

The sheer difference in strength between a man and a woman was laid bare. Jessica Alba stumbled forward several steps, tripped over the rug, and crashed hard onto the floor, her head slamming right into a wooden coat rack. Searing pain sent waves of dizziness washing over her, and through the haze, she felt a trickle of liquid slide down from her head to the tip of her nose.

She reached up and wiped at it. Her hand came away bright red with blood.

"Disgusting woman!"

Christophe Rocancourt's voice rang out again from the doorway, his back already turned to leave. Cheated, beaten, and insulted, Jessica Alba felt the last shred of her sanity snap.

Her hand reached behind her back for the final resort she had deliberately prepared before coming to the study.

Pulling a ladies' revolver from the small of her back, Jessica Alba leveled it at Christophe Rocancourt and, just as she had practiced at the gun club, pulled the trigger...

"Bang... bang... bang..."

Three crisp gunshots rang out in quick succession, but Jessica Alba clearly lacked the wrist strength to hold steady. She had aimed for the center of Christophe Rocancourt's back, yet the first shot struck his shoulder, the second flew off who knew where, and the third hit him square in the ass...

With the gunshots, all of Jessica Alba's pent-up fury vanished in an instant. On the floor, Christophe Rocancourt's agonized howling brought home exactly what she had just done.

"Merciful Lord..."

Her rage gone, panic once again seized her delicate features. Jessica Alba hastily dropped the revolver and stared at Christophe Rocancourt writhing and wailing in a pool of blood, completely at a loss for what to do next.

The gunshots hadn't just jolted Jessica Alba back to her senses; they had also alerted the neighbors not far away, who immediately called the police. This was the famous Beverly Hills, and within just a few minutes, a patrol car pulled up outside the house Jessica Alba and Christophe Rocancourt were renting.

Two patrol officers cautiously went inside to check the scene and immediately radioed for medical backup. By the time the ambulance arrived and paramedics stemmed Christophe Rocancourt's bleeding, the man who had once been the talk of Hollywood had already slipped into unconsciousness.

"He's a liar! He deceived everyone in Hollywood!"

Faced with the officers' questioning after enduring far too many shocks in a single day, Jessica Alba had grown borderline hysterical. "I'm the one who shot him, and that gun is mine too! I wanted to kill him! I'm going to kill that liar!"

Certain kinds of news traveled exceptionally fast within the industry. Later that day, Frank Pierson received word that Jessica Alba had shot her boyfriend, and he promptly made a few phone calls.

Christophe Rocancourt's dazzling Hollywood career had reached its end. Even if he recovered from his wounds, the wrath of countless Hollywood elites awaited him, and the massive sum he had defrauded was more than enough to put him behind bars for a very long time.