America Tycoon: The Wolf of Showbiz

This way of inviting award presenters is hard not to remind people of the situation when Martin Scorsese won a few years ago.

Leonardo's confidence surged.

Next, there would be a photo session for all the nominees, and Martin's trio prepared to return to the banquet hall.

Nearby, Jessica Chastain came out of the door and took a few steps out. Seeing Martin, she wanted to smile and say hello.

Behind her, someone quickly caught up with Jessica Chastain.

Megan Ellison had been eyeing the red-haired actress and said while walking, "Jessica, wait up!"

Jessica Chastain paused, turned her head, and saw a face she didn't recognize and had never seen before.

"I'm Megan Ellison, the president of Anna Purna Pictures, involved in the investment and production of 'The Hurt Locker.'" After introducing herself briefly, Megan showed her assertive and proactive nature to the extreme.

She laid down the law bluntly, "I have a movie directed by Catherine Bigelow and I want you to play the lead role. I spoke to your agent, but she said you were not available. I cannot accept that answer, nor can I accept a rejection!"

These words stunned Jessica Chastain. She didn't know Megan but had heard of her and knew who she was.

But this aggressive way of inviting was really uncomfortable.

All these words fell into the ears of Martin's trio nearby.

Nicholson whispered, "Here comes a challenge. Are you going to accept it or not?"

Leonardo glanced at Megan Ellison's legs, face, and hair, and sighed, "With that look, I can't get it up."

"They've declared war openly; what's there to talk about?" Martin walked toward them, "Join me, let's do this!"

Nicholson patted Leonardo's shoulder, "See why he can run ten thousand meters while you can only run a hundred meters? Do you understand now?"

Leonardo followed Martin, puzzled, "Could it be that Megan Ellison is married or engaged? Otherwise, it doesn't make sense with her looks!"

Nicholson nodded, "That's a possibility."

While Jessica Chastain was briefly stunned, she was also thinking about how to respond.

Suddenly, a familiar voice came from the other side, "Jessie, I was wondering where you went. You're here."

Jessica Chastain turned around and saw Martin. She smiled and said, "Martin, are you looking for me for something?"

Martin, as if he hadn't seen Megan Ellison, said, "I just thought of something. I have a role here that would be very suitable for you."

Since "The Martian" had not yet confirmed the other actors, including the spacecraft commander who should be a more mature actress, he went ahead and said, "It's a space-themed project being prepared by director Ridley Scott. If you're interested, you could take the time to visit Disney Studio."

Megan Ellison's gaze was fiercely fixed on Martin.

Martin completely ignored her.

Jessica Chastain looked at Megan's domineering posture and then at Martin, who made her feel refreshed. She requested, "Can you give me one of your business cards? After I talk to my agent, I'll contact you."

Martin pulled out a business card and handed it to Jessica Chastain, reminding her, "Here's yours."

Jessica Chastain secured Martin's card and quickly took out her own to pass over.

Martin, not even glancing at Megan Ellison, invited, "Let's go."

Jessica Chastain followed him, returning to the hall together.

Nicholson and Leonardo also entered the hall.

With her hands in her pockets, Megan watched them walk away, her mouth twitching slightly. It wasn't hard to guess that this was Martin Davis's retaliation against her.

Drett, following behind her, stepped forward and asked, "President, should we put pressure on them?"

"Pressure?" Though Megan was tough in nature and somewhat arrogant like her father, she was still clear-headed, "This is Hollywood; we are newcomers here. With what do we pressure them?"

Drett said, "David has been in Hollywood for several years now and has been involved in many investments."

Megan shook her head, "But he's still the joke of Hollywood."

Such remarks could be made by Megan, but Drett couldn't follow up, so he remained silent.

"The Trio of Scoundrels in Hollywood are quite interesting." Megan spoke in a lower voice, "Keep an eye on Martin Davis; I want to make sure he doesn't get any new projects."

She thought of more, "Also, find out what projects he has in his hands and make contact with those playwrights or authors."

Drett understood the domineering president's intention, "I'll get right on it."

Back in the banquet hall, Martin's trio still sat together.

Nicholson said, "They are forceful and domineering but not as arrogant as I imagined. I thought she would confront you directly."

Leonardo interjected, "Confront him with what? Martin's not afraid of anything, either upstairs or downstairs!"

Martin, not one to let his brothers down, nudged Leonardo, "You're enough!"

Nicholson reminded the two jesters, "The war has just begun. It will be a long battle because she has ample funds and a powerful family background. She won't be taken down easily."

Martin said, "We'll take it slow."

After the nominees' luncheon ended, everyone who had been nominated for an Oscar gathered in another hall for a group picture.

With that, the nominees' luncheon for this session ended. Next, the Academy would mail the final ballots, then select the winners.

Martin, Nicholson, and Leonardo had agreed that, besides the already confirmed candidates, other selections should be made based on golf, a sport none of the three were particularly good at, ensuring responsibility towards the Oscars and guaranteeing fairness and impartiality.

...

Near The Red Light District in Tijuana.

Seven or eight Latin women emerged from the bungalow with a yard, the hem of their shorts and skirts stuffed with US dollars, blowing kisses towards the brightly lit doorway and windows.

The tall one with long legs took the lead, telling the few heads peeking out by the door and windows, "Honey, call us if you need anything."

De Paul, adjusting the waistband of his pants, came down from the doorway, still holding a post-event cigarette between his lips: "Next time bring in a new batch!"

"No problem!" The tall one with long legs opened the sturdy iron gate, glanced at the darkening skies, and led the girls on foot toward The Red Light District.

She mused to herself, calculating how long it would take these wealthy clients to regain their urges and make proactive contact.

At month's end, it was unavoidable for sex workers in The Red Light District to go all out for performance evaluations, for those who failed to meet targets truly risked being killed by the gangs controlling them.

At the end of each month, gangs would conduct performance evaluations of their controlled sex workers, selecting a few of the lowest performers to be executed as both a warning and to refresh their workforce.

And for people? To the north was the world's beacon, constantly attracting a stream of humanity from all over Latin America.

A woman wanted to smoke and pulled out an empty pack, saying, "I'm going to buy a pack of smokes."

The tall woman waved her away, taking the others and moving on without her.

The woman crossed the battered road, heading for the convenience store on the diagonal opposite.

From the darkness, a van suddenly pulled up, screeching to a halt beside her.

The woman reacted quickly, trying to run, but she was seized by a person who jumped out of the car. She struggled until a sharp dagger pressed against her neck made her stop in her tracks, allowing herself to be quietly forced onto the vehicle.

Inside the van, everyone was dressed in black and wore black hoods.

Desperate to stay alive, the woman voluntarily began to undo her blouse, "I can handle two at a time, just be quick about it. If I return too late, I'm dead."

Marcelo, the hood wearer, asked, "How many people were in the yard you just came from?"

With the knife at a critical spot, the woman dared not lie: "Six."

Another person held up a few photos, "Are they these men?"

The woman looked and confirmed, "That's them."

"Keep your mouth shut like nothing ever happened," Marcelo gave a meaningful glance.

Paqueta and Jesus bound the woman with rope, then sealed her mouth with tape, covered her head with a black bag, and found a secluded spot to dump her.

Back in the bungalow with the yard, six men finished up their activities, eating late-night snacks and drinking beer, excitedly talking about women.

Tattooed man Diego proposed, "Boss, this money comes too easy. I called yesterday, and they said the heat's died down. Shall we hit another big one when we go back?"

Rodriguez was still cautious, "But that's Martin Davis we're talking about!"

De Paul took a big gulp of beer, "Even if he's an American national hero, what can he do to us? After we finish up, we'll hide back in Mexico; he and the LAPD can't touch us!"

Having easily acquired such a substantial sum, they were getting carried away. Even the level-headed Romero said, "Last time we didn't plan properly. We made a mistake; we should have sold the leads for multiple deposits before heading to Tijuana."

"You're damn talented!" the others complimented.

De Paul suggested, "Boss, let's go back and pull off a big job just like Romero said. Last time you saw how valuable the scripts that Martin Davis likes are. If we hit a big one, we can retire!"

Thinking of their recent earnings, Rodriguez couldn't help but be tempted. Once someone tastes easy money, it's awfully hard to settle down and earn it slowly again.

Romero pointed out, "Boss, with Lautaro's skill in picking locks and Otamendi's expertise in handling electronics, we can easily break into Martin Davis' home. We won't only get the script details but also his collectibles and jewelry!"

Diego licked his lips and said, "Martin Davis' girlfriend, Elizabeth Olsen—I like her a lot. We can wait for an opportunity when Martin Davis is out and she's alone at home, and then..."

The others laughed. Continue reading at My Virtual Library Empire

De Paul continued, "Afterwards, we'll return to Tijuana, head to South America or somewhere else, and live it up."

Having already done it once, Rodriguez was less apprehensive about a second time and was about to speak when he seemed to hear something, "Who's there?"

The rest reacted swiftly, rushing to grab their guns.

A crash rang out as a window shattered; a dark object was hurled in.

"Get down!" De Paul yelled out loud.

Bang—a flashbang with a deafening noise went off, stunning the six men.

The front door was kicked in, and several men in black rushed in.

The leader shouted, "Don't aim for the head!"

Gunfire erupted, blood spattered, and bodies slumped.

Each man was hit with four or five shots.

Paqueta turned on the light, others searched the room, and Marcelo had the bodies arranged neatly to take photos of each.

These thirty thousand dollars were too easy to make.