Chapter 415: The Bait and the Fish

"To think it would end up like this?"

Reading the newspaper report about Jessica Alba shooting her boyfriend, Duke was quite surprised.

"Things didn't develop exactly the way we expected," he said.

Still, it didn't matter; it barely affected his plans.

Tina Fey put down the phone.

"Sheriff Carter sent word," she said. "The Los Angeles County Police Department received reports from many people, including us. They currently have Jessica Alba and Christophe Rocancourt in custody."

"Also..." Tina Fey added, "Christophe Rocancourt's accountant and lawyer are implicated as well. The police have restricted their movements."

This didn't surprise Duke. There was absolutely no way the man could have transferred such a massive sum on his own.

Accepting the coffee Ivanka handed him, Duke thanked her.

"Have attorney Al Ryder keep an eye on them," he told Tina Fey.

Since he was already involved, Duke had no intention of backing out easily.

He thought for a moment.

"Tina, once this busy period is over, arrange a meeting with Edward Newgate."

With his increasing net worth, Duke firmly believed Christophe Rocancourt wouldn't be the first person to target him, and he definitely wouldn't be the last.

Christophe Rocancourt's financial accounts were temporarily frozen. Once the investigation concluded, the massive funds would be gradually returned to the various investors. One of the biggest con artists in Hollywood history would be spending a very long time in prison.

As for Jessica Alba, even if she got lucky and avoided prison, she would no longer be able to stay in Hollywood.

Having offended so many Hollywood celebrities and socialites—including powerful figures like Frank Pierson—her dreams of stardom were essentially over.

Emma the housekeeper walked over.

"The car from the airport has arrived at the estate gates," she told Duke.

"Got it."

Duke stood up and walked toward the villa's entrance. Ivanka Trump immediately followed. Ever since they officially established their relationship, she had stayed in Los Angeles under the pretext of choosing a company location, and Duke had never once objected.

They waited in front of the villa for less than half a minute before a black limousine drove slowly in from the estate gates and pulled up to a stop. When the car door opened, the first person Duke saw was his mother, followed closely by Scarlett Johansson, who stepped out right behind her.

He walked over and gave his mother a light hug.

"Mom..."

Mrs. Leah looked at Duke.

"You've lost weight," she said.

Duke just smiled. Unlike those directors who survived on burgers, sandwiches, and cola when they got busy, he paid very close attention to his diet.

After speaking to Duke, Mrs. Leah turned to look at Ivanka Trump. The two already knew each other, and this wasn't their first time meeting.

"Hi, Duke."

Hearing this somewhat unfamiliar voice, Duke turned his head. Before he even had time to say hello, a girl with a head full of blonde curls hugged him. He had no choice but to reach out and give her a light embrace in return, but the girl hugged him forcefully. He could even feel her voluptuous figure—which was in no way inferior to Ivanka's—pressed almost completely against him.

"Scar, it's been a long time," he said.

After they separated, Duke looked at the girl in front of him. Compared to the last time they met, Scarlett Johansson seemed to have grown a tiny bit taller, though it was almost imperceptible in contrast to her full figure.

Ever since this blonde girl was a teenager, her physical development seemed to have entirely concentrated in other areas.

"Let's go inside," he said.

Duke ushered everyone into the villa. Scarlett Johansson walked beside him, glancing at Ivanka Trump, who was chatting with Mrs. Leah, before leaning in a little closer to him.

"Looks like the rumors are true?" she asked in a low voice.

"What rumors?" Duke turned to look at her.

Scarlett motioned with her chin toward Ivanka.

"I really never thought I'd see the day you got a girlfriend, Duke," she said.

"Is that so strange?" Duke frowned.

Even the biggest playboys in Hollywood had dated official girlfriends before. Was it really so unacceptable for him to change his lifestyle a bit?

"It's not strange for you to get a girlfriend." Scarlett Johansson's eyes still drifted toward Ivanka. "It's just strange that you're dating her."

Although the two of them had gradually drifted apart later on, they did have a period of frequent interaction. Scarlett knew very well that Ivanka Trump didn't entirely match Duke's aesthetic standards.

The group chatted casually in the living room for a while before Mrs. Leah called Duke alone into a lounge.

They didn't discuss Ivanka Trump. She wasn't a woman of ill repute; her reputation among New York's high society had always been excellent, and Mrs. Leah had absolutely no intention of interfering.

She was asking about something else.

"After I got off the plane, I read in the newspaper that you were involved in a fraud case?" she asked.

Hearing his mother's question, Duke quickly replied, "Strictly speaking, I'm just a victim."

"So you were swindled out of a sum of money?"

Mrs. Leah clearly didn't believe it. She knew Duke wasn't an expert at business operations, but he was an exceptionally cautious person.

"Here's what happened..."

Duke used the most concise language possible to give her a general rundown of what had really happened.

"To be exact, I took his setup and turned it into a trap of my own. Christophe Rocancourt was never my target," he explained.

He had no interest in exposing a con artist just for the sake of Hollywood.

"Was it necessary to stir up so much trouble?" Mrs. Leah had already grasped his underlying intentions.

Duke sighed.

"Actually, I know very well that the conservatives who truly influence the voting choices don't like me at all," he said. "I debuted as a commercial director. I was a commercial director when I got my first Oscar Best Director nomination, and I'm still a commercial director now. Even Chicago is nothing more than a commercial film wrapped in the guise of a musical..."

"Their discrimination against commercial directors..." Duke shook his head. "I understand the mindset of some of the conservatives. They know full well that commerce is the very foundation of Hollywood, yet they harbor this fantasy of using the name of art to drape a glamorous cloak over this extremely commercialized circle."

There were some things he didn't say aloud. It was less than a week until September 11, at which point the political and economic life of this country would undergo a massive transformation. This change would also impact Hollywood. Although Oscar-winning films in the past had to be politically correct, the political atmosphere of the Oscars would only grow heavier from then on. Who could guarantee what might happen?

True, someone had conquered the Oscars using commercial success before. But one couldn't forget that James Cameron's film was based on a real event, not a fictional world.

In the past, Peter Jackson had won the Golden Statuette relying on the momentum of a trilogy. Duke seemed to have an even greater advantage than him—his past credentials were far more glorious, he was of Jewish descent, and he had already received two nominations prior.

But Duke didn't believe that Golden Statuette rightfully belonged to him. Even with his special background, if he didn't actively fight for it and work hard, would success really just fall into his lap?

He wasn't God, nor was he the man kissed by God.

Furthermore, he had one major disadvantage! And that was the film critics!

Nowadays, the influence of film critics on the summer season was minimal, but those old men who had grown up alongside them still firmly controlled the core narrative power of the School. Their influence over the awards season remained astonishing!

If Tolkien were still alive, Duke felt there was an eighty percent chance he would get KO'd.

On this side, Duke was briefly explaining his reasons to his mother.

Over in the living room, Scarlett Johansson was continuously sizing Ivanka up with curious eyes.

"Would you like something to drink, Scar?"

Acting just like a host entertaining a guest, Ivanka stood up and placed a porcelain cup on the coffee table in front of Scarlett. Just as she was about to pour her some black tea, Scarlett shook her head.

"Thank you, but I don't drink this," she said.

With that, she walked behind the bar in the living room, skillfully located the liquor cabinet, and pulled out a bottle of mineral water. She deliberately waved it toward Ivanka.

"From the purchase of this house to its renovation, and even when Duke moved in, I was involved in the entire process," Scarlett said. "I'm very familiar with the place. I can just get whatever I need myself."

Carrying the mineral water, Scarlett walked back. As she passed by Ivanka, she spoke up.

"I'm right at home here," she said.

Ivanka's eyes blinked rapidly, though the smile on her face didn't seem to change at all.

"I understand," she said casually. "You are Aunt Leah's goddaughter, after all."

She shot Scarlett a wary glance, but Scarlett acted as if she hadn't understood the implication. She plopped back down onto the sofa with a carefree attitude, ignoring the cup Ivanka had brought over. Instead, she grabbed a fresh one, twisted open her water bottle, poured herself a glass, and slowly lifted it.

Scarlett looked at the still-standing Ivanka and pointed to the sofa beside her.

"Have a seat, Evie," she said. "Don't be shy."

Hearing this, Ivanka suddenly laughed. No longer interested in tangling with Scarlett, she turned and walked toward the kitchen.

"I'm going to check on the dinner Emma is preparing. Excuse me, Scar," she said.

When Duke returned to the living room, he saw only Scarlett Johansson sitting on the sofa, boredly sipping her water. He walked over and sat down opposite her.

"Don't you need to rest?" Duke asked her.

Scarlett yawned.

"Where's my godmother?" she asked.

"She went upstairs to sleep off the jet lag." Duke picked up a teacup and poured himself a cup. "You should go too. I'll have someone wake you before dinner."

"Yeah." Scarlett nodded and stood up, but she didn't leave immediately.

Leaning over the back of the sofa, she asked Duke, "Why did you choose her to be your girlfriend? She doesn't fit your aesthetics at all."

Duke lifted his head and looked at Scarlett Johansson. Before he could speak, she continued.

"I just think that being stuck with a woman you don't even consider beautiful must be pure torture," she said.

"Scar..." Duke's voice turned serious.

Scarlett blinked.

"I was just asking," she said.

"If finding a girlfriend was only about finding the prettiest woman, then it would be better to just go to the San Fernando Valley," he said.

Hearing Duke's words, Scarlett stuck her tongue out and quickly scurried away.