The richest actor in Hollywood.

As night fully enveloped the city, Arthur Ashe Stadium blazed with lights. The women's singles final, marked by high-decibel screams and the exasperation of countless male spectators, had reached its climax.

"Ahhh..."

With a piercing, soulful shout, Maria Sharapova struck the ball with a forehand swing. Whether the shout disturbed her or sped up the ball, Justine Henin's return hit the net, and Sharapova secured her service game.

This also marked the end of the second set. The final score stood at 6-4, and with a 2-0 set victory, Maria Sharapova won the US Open Women's Singles Championship.

Sharapova dropped to her knees on the hard court, overwhelmed with emotion, as she celebrated her second Grand Slam title.

"It's not fair!" Kaia Gerber, watching the towering Russian from their seats, voiced her discontent on behalf of Henin. "Sharapova cheated! She must have shouted on purpose to distract her!"

Matthew refrained from commenting. It seemed tennis rules didn't explicitly prohibit players from yelling while hitting the ball.

"Alright, Kaia," Cindy Crawford interrupted her daughter's grumbling. "Stop complaining."

Kaia pouted and glared at Sharapova, still processing the defeat as only a child would.

At that moment, a staff member approached Matthew, leaning in to speak softly, "Mr. Horner, it's time for you to prepare."

Matthew nodded, stood up, and followed the staff member out of the seating area. They walked through a designated passage to the locker room. There, the stylist quickly fixed his hair, and Matthew changed into a formal outfit. A new Rolex watch, suitable for the formal occasion, was also provided.

After stepping out, Matthew joined a Rolex public relations representative near the exit to the hard court. Alongside him was the honorary president of the United States Tennis Association (USTA), who would also participate in the award ceremony.

A final rundown of the ceremony was given. The honorary president would give a congratulatory speech, and Matthew would present the trophy to Sharapova.

On the hard court, a stage for the award ceremony was being set up. Matthew waited patiently near the exit.

The Rolex representative pointed to the championship trophy held by a hostess and reminded Matthew, "We've designed your sleeves to be slightly shorter than usual. When presenting the trophy, extend your left hand so that the watch faces the camera."

Matthew nodded, "Understood."

The ceremony proceeded step by step. First, Henin received her award. Then Sharapova stood on the podium. Matthew and the USTA honorary president walked out together.

Standing beside the hostess holding the championship trophy, Matthew straightened his posture. Despite the presence of over twenty thousand spectators, he was accustomed to such scenes. He maintained a charming smile, clapping along with the audience as the USTA president loudly congratulated Sharapova.

"Congratulations to Sharapova!" the announcer proclaimed, "Now, this moment belongs to Maria Sharapova."

He gestured towards Matthew. Matthew took the trophy from the hostess and walked over to Sharapova. They shared a brief, ceremonial hug.

"Congratulations," he said, extending his left arm to reveal the Rolex on his wrist as he handed the women's singles championship trophy to Sharapova. "You were outstanding today."

Sharapova took the trophy, but her eyes remained fixed on Matthew, as if surprised to see him as the presenter.

Matthew noticed Sharapova's gaze. It was familiar to him—the way his die-hard fans looked at him during promotional events.

Could this newly crowned US Open champion be one of his fans?

"Thank you." Sharapova's English was fluent. She glanced at the trophy, then lowered her voice, saying to Matthew, "I like your outfit today."

Matthew looked at Sharapova, a nearly six-foot-tall girl, saying something like this. The contrast was quite striking.

Their brief exchange appeared no different from any other award ceremony conversation. Sharapova, clutching the trophy, moved to the announcer's side to be interviewed.

With his task of presenting the trophy and showcasing the Rolex on camera completed, Matthew's job was done. The only surprise was encountering a tennis star who seemed to be a fan.

"I like your outfit today?"

What did she mean by that? Matthew glanced at Sharapova, who was now in her youthful prime...

After a brief interview, the award ceremony concluded. The participants headed towards the stadium's passageway. Matthew deliberately stayed behind to walk alongside Sharapova.

Entering the passage, Matthew slowed his pace to walk beside Sharapova. "I didn't get a chance to say earlier, but I really admire your commanding style on the court."

"Really?" Sharapova seemed genuinely surprised. "Do you mean it?"

"Absolutely," Matthew said earnestly. "Could I get a signed photo of you playing tennis?"

They reached a T-junction in the passage, where their respective locker rooms were on different sides. Sharapova stopped first, still holding the trophy, her face alight with excitement. "Let's exchange! I've always wanted a signed photo of yours!"

"Sure! No problem." Matthew spread his hands, "But I don't have any photos with me."

Sharapova's gaze remained fixed on Matthew. "Neither do I."

Matthew noticed a group of people—likely Sharapova's coach, family, and assistants—approaching down her corridor.

He quickly said, "How about this: give me your number, and I'll contact you once things settle down."

Without hesitation, Sharapova rattled off a string of numbers. Glancing back at the approaching group, she asked, "Did you get it?"

Matthew repeated the number and mimed a phone call. "Expect my call, Maria."

"Okay." Sharapova nodded firmly. As the crowd drew closer, she added once more, "I really like your outfit today."

With that, she boldly glanced at Matthew before turning to join her celebrating entourage.

Matthew watched for a few seconds, then headed towards his own locker room. As he walked, he pondered his next move. Clearly, Sharapova was a fan, but...

Inside the locker room, he changed back into his clothes and returned the Rolex watch to the representative. He kept the suit, though. Pulling out his phone, he dialed a number and asked, "Elena, do you know much about Maria Sharapova?"

Elena Boyar, now a senior executive at TMZ, was well-versed in the lives of not only entertainment stars but also sports personalities.

After a brief exchange, Matthew ended the call and waited patiently. By the time he left Arthur Ashe Stadium and got into a Mercedes sedan, Elena Boyar had called back.

Matthew talked with Elena for a few minutes, getting a clearer picture, then put his phone away, lost in thought.

According to Elena, Maria Sharapova, having spent her entire youth in rigorous training, was a girl who deeply yearned for romance. She also had an exceptional father who was both visionary and ambitious.

Sharapova's father had sold everything to bring her from Russia to the United States for tennis training. This had resulted in her becoming a tennis star with two Grand Slam titles at nineteen. However, due to the massive investment in her, her father sought significant returns. Given Sharapova's striking looks and young age, he hoped she would find a boyfriend who could bring fame and fortune.

Though these details weren't entirely confirmed, TMZ's internal data was usually reliable.

As the car entered the underground parking of a Manhattan hotel, Matthew didn't immediately get out. He turned to his assistant, Brown Williams, and said, "Find out which hotel Sharapova is staying at."

By the time he reached his suite, Brown Williams had the information.

Matthew didn't bother changing. He stood by the window in the suite's living room, looking towards Flushing Park. Sharapova's hotel was in that direction, likely abuzz with celebration tonight.

He called for the suite's butler and arranged for a photographer to come over. In the suite, he had a few photos taken in the formal outfit he wore for the awards ceremony, choosing the best one. He signed his name on the front and back of the selected photo.

Since Sharapova wanted a signed photo, he decided to deliver it personally.

After all, meeting a vibrant tennis star seemed quite appealing.

Matthew made up his mind. After a moment's thought, he called the butler back and gave specific instructions. This was one of New York's top hotels, and they could provide a wide range of services as long as the client could pay.

In this commercial world, money talks.

Matthew wasn't among the top-tier wealthy yet, but he had enough to make things happen.

Of course, he wasn't foolish enough to have someone kidnap Sharapova.

He was determined to be a law-abiding citizen.

As time ticked by, Matthew waited patiently, much like a hunter waiting for a fox.

The butler returned, bowing respectfully. "Everything is arranged."

"Good." Matthew handed the butler a prepared tip. "How long until it arrives?"

"Fifteen minutes, sir."

Matthew nodded, "Alright." He stood before the mirror, checking his reflection in the formal suit he wore during the awards. Grabbing his phone and the signed photo, he turned to the butler, "Let's go."

The butler opened the door for Matthew, leading the way. As they headed towards the elevator, Matthew saved Sharapova's number on his phone.

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