Chapter Two

The filming location is in Burbank, which is Universal Pictures' largest studio.

I arrived on time in my unassuming Audi A6.

This car is one of my disguise props; it's neither too shabby nor too flashy, fitting the persona of a "high-class personal assistant."

The security guards recognized me and let me through immediately.

I parked my car in the staff area and carried the insulated box into the photography studio.

Inside was a standard Hollywood set—dozens of staff were busy adjusting the lights and camera positions, Chloe sat in the director's chair, and makeup artists were circling around her.

She was dressed in Chanel haute couture and wore a Bulgari Serpenti necklace, looking radiant.

I noticed that Zach was standing right next to her.

The boy was wearing a white shirt today, with his mother's blue diamond brooch pinned to the collar.

Under the bright lights of the photography studio, the brooch reflected a dazzling blue light, so bright it was almost blinding.

Zach clearly enjoyed the feeling ; he deliberately puffed out his chest to make the brooch more conspicuous, and occasionally rubbed the main diamond with his fingers.

I walked over and placed the insulated box on the small table next to Chloe.

"Bird's nest," I said.

Chloe didn't even lift an eyelid. "Just put it there."

Zack then turned around, saw me, and immediately put on an exaggerated expression of surprise. "Hey, isn't this Arthur?"

He deliberately leaned closer and pointed at the brooch with his finger. "See this? Chloe gave it to me. It's fake, but the craftsmanship is quite exquisite, isn't it?"

I looked at him without saying anything.

Zack seemed to take my silence as a sign of weakness.

He laughed even more smugly, moved closer, and lowered his voice, saying, "Brother, I know this thing might be a souvenir or something you bought for a fortune on Taobao. But honestly, a woman of Chloe's caliber doesn't deserve this kind of cheap junk, you know?"

"So?" I asked.

"So this junk is mine now." Zack patted me on the shoulder. "You don't mind, right?"

I looked at him, my gaze calm. "No objections."

"You know what's good for you." Zach nodded in satisfaction, then turned and walked towards Chloe, putting his arm around her waist.

Chloe leaned against him, glanced at me out of the corner of her eye, and then said in a particularly disdainful tone, "Arthur, what are you still standing here for? Can't you see I'm working?"

"I thought you were going to drink bird's nest."

"I don't want to drink anymore." Chloe waved her hand, like shooing away a fly. "Go wait outside, don't get in the way. Oh, and I'm going to Bulgari to sign an endorsement contract later, so remember to have the car ready."

I nodded and turned to leave.

As I walked out of the studio, I heard Zack's laughter. The laughter was full of smugness and contempt, echoing in the empty studio.

I walked to the parking lot, got into my car, and took out my phone.

Matthew's text message has arrived.

Matthew: "Sir, Bulgari has confirmed that tonight's signing ceremony will be subject to change. Furthermore, Ms. Chloe's three film and television projects—Universal, Netflix, and Warner Bros.—have all received 'special instructions' from the board of directors."

I replied: Continue.

Then I turned on the car's infotainment system and pulled up a recording.

It's the audio from yesterday's security camera footage—Chloe and Zach's conversation in the bedroom. I had the tech team edit it into a three-minute highlight reel with high-definition video and clear audio, especially Chloe's line, "Arthur is a tasteless pauper," which is spoken exceptionally clearly.

I looked it over, confirmed there were no problems, and then forwarded it to Matthew.

Me: "For backup."

Matthew: "Understood."

I leaned back in my seat and lit a cigarette. The smoke drifted slowly through the car as I looked out the windshield at the Hollywood Hills in the distance. The giant white lettering on them gleamed in the sunlight, like some kind of totem.

Countless people have sold their souls in order to climb that mountain.

Chloe too.

Little did she know, the ladder she thought she was holding onto was actually handed to her by me.

My phone vibrated again.

Chloe: "Arthur, where the hell have you been? I'm leaving, where's the car?"

I stubbed out my cigarette, started the engine, and drove to the entrance of the photography studio.

Chloe walked out arm in arm with Zach, followed by a group of assistants and bodyguards. She frowned when she saw my car, but still got in. Zach followed her into the back seat, and the two snuggled together affectionately.

"Let's go to the Peninsula Hotel," Chloe said.

I didn't say anything and started the car.

In the rearview mirror, Zack was still fiddling with the brooch. He took it off, examined it closely against the light, and then asked Chloe, "Are you sure this is fake? It doesn't look like it to me."

"Of course it's fake," Chloe said impatiently. "How much does Arthur earn a month? Can he afford a real one?"

"That's true." Zack smiled and pinned the brooch back onto his collar.

I gripped the steering wheel, my eyes fixed on the road ahead.

We've arrived at the Peninsula Hotel.

As Chloe got out of the car, she tossed me a sentence: "Wait here, I have to go to a dinner party after I sign the contract."

"Okay," I said.

She walked into the hotel in her high heels, with Zach following closely behind. From behind, they looked perfectly matched—a Hollywood couple, basking in the limelight.

I was sitting in the car when I sent Matthew a text message.

Me: "Now."

Five minutes later, my phone rang.

It was Matthew calling.

"Sir, it's done," he said. "The President of Bulgari Asia Pacific just received an urgent order from headquarters in Rome to temporarily change the global brand ambassador. In addition, the project managers at Universal, Netflix, and Warner have also received simultaneous notification from the board of directors that all collaborative projects involving Ms. Chloe are to be terminated immediately."

"reason?"

"Force majeure," Matthew said. "Specifically, it's the allocation of resources at the conglomerate level. Studios dare not question orders at this level."

"Very good," I said, "We will compensate for the loss."

"Understood, sir."

I hung up the phone, lit a cigarette, and waited quietly.

Twenty minutes later, the hotel door was suddenly pushed open.

Chloe stormed out, her face ashen. Her eyes were filled with anger and disbelief, and her high heels clattered rapidly on the marble floor.

Zack followed behind her, also looking completely bewildered.

Chloe opened the car door, sat in the back seat, and slammed the door shut.

"Drive," she said through gritted teeth.

I started the engine. "Where to?"

"go home!"

As the car drove out of the hotel, Chloe took out her phone and frantically dialed numbers.

"Hey? Amy, what's going on? Why did Bulgari suddenly change actresses?... What do you mean by 'a decision from above'? I'm this year's Oscar winner, what gives them the right... What did you say?!"

Her voice suddenly rose in pitch.

"Universal's project is dead too?! ...What about Netflix? Warner Bros.? ...All terminated?! This is impossible! I signed letters of intent with them all, what about the penalties for breach of contract... What do you mean by 'direct board order'?!"

Chloe hung up the phone, feeling completely drained, and slumped into her chair.

Zach asked tentatively, "Honey, what's wrong?"

Chloe ignored him and stared intently at the back of my head.

"Arthur," she said suddenly.

I looked at her in the rearview mirror. "Hmm?"

"Did you do something?"

I calmly said, "I didn't do anything."

"Impossible!" Chloe completely broke down. "It must be you! You piece of trash, you've definitely been pulling these tricks behind the scenes, haven't you?!"

I didn't say anything.

Chloe grew angrier the more she thought about it, and she grabbed her bag and threw it at me. "Speak! You piece of trash who lives off women! Was it you who did this?!"

I dodged the bag, and the car drove smoothly along Sunset Boulevard.

"Chloe," I said, "do you think I, a personal assistant, have the ability to influence decisions at Bulgari headquarters?"

Zach tried to comfort him, saying, "Honey, don't be angry. This really has nothing to do with him..."

“Shut up!” Chloe yelled at him, then turned back to glare at me. “Arthur, let me tell you, just you wait and see who’s behind this!”

I didn't say anything.

In the rearview mirror, her eyes were crazed and distorted.

Chloe gritted her teeth and dialed her agent's number again. "I don't care what method you use, find out what really happened! Yes, I'm going to the banquet right now, I want to ask those producers myself... What? What did you say?!"

Her face turned deathly pale instantly.

"Even the dinner invitation has been withdrawn?!"

Chloe hung up the phone, then seemed to be nailed to her seat.

In the rearview mirror, her eyes were vacant, and her lips trembled slightly.

Zack said cautiously, "Honey, how about we go home first... and calm down?"

Chloe turned her head sharply, a hint of madness flashing in her eyes.

"Yes," she said, "someone must be trying to get me. I have to do something! "

She looked at me, a cold smile playing on her lips, then immediately logged into Twitter, her fingers flying across the screen.

I watched her in the rearview mirror and knew what she was going to do.

It's the same as before: they accuse me of domestic violence against her, then try to get netizens to pity her and boost her popularity.

Five minutes later, Chloe pressed the send button.

She posted a long tweet with a picture of our wedding photo, except my face was blurred out.

Chloe Summers (verified):

"Today, I've decided to tell the truth. For the past five years, I've been living in a dysfunctional marriage. My husband is an extremely controlling and possessive person. He couldn't accept my success and even repeatedly caused trouble for me at work. Today, he finally couldn't take it anymore and stabbed me in the back just as I was about to sign an important endorsement deal, causing me to lose everything. Now I understand that some people don't love you, but rather the vanity you bring them. I announce that, starting today, I'm ending this marriage and becoming myself again. #IndependentWomen #ZeroToleranceForDomesticViolence"

The tweet was retweeted over a thousand times in less than a minute.

The comment section exploded instantly.

"Oh my god, Chloe is being abused at home?!"

"I knew there was a jerk behind her!"

"My sister has had it so tough, it breaks my heart!"

"Who is that man? Doxx him!"

Chloe looked at the soaring data and finally a smug smile appeared on her face.

"Arthur," she said, " I won't be easily defeated ."

I still didn't say anything, I just drove the car into Beverly Hills.

When Chloe got out of the car, she tossed me a file folder.

"This is the divorce agreement drafted by my lawyer," she said with a sneer. "You'll leave with nothing, and I might not pursue the matter further. This is my final act of mercy."

I took the document bag, didn't even look at it, and threw it directly into the trash can.

Then he took another document out of his briefcase and handed it to her.

"This is mine," I said.

Chloe paused for a moment, took the document, and turned to the first page.

Then her expression changed.

"What...what does this mean?"

"The divorce agreement," I said. "You'll leave with nothing."

Chloe laughed as if she'd heard an absurd joke. "Are you crazy, Arthur? You're a good-for-nothing who eats and drinks my food, why should I leave with nothing?"

"Because all the assets under your name," I said calmly, "are not owned by you."

Chloe's laughter stopped abruptly.

"What nonsense are you spouting?"

"Mansions, sports cars, jewelry," I said, "are all under the Rockwell family trust. You only have the right to use them, not ownership."

Chloe was stunned.

"Impossible..." she murmured.

I turned around, got into the car, and started the engine.

"It's up to you whether you sign or not," I said. "The outcome will be the same anyway."

As the car drove away from the mansion, Chloe stood in the rearview mirror, clutching the agreement in her hand, looking like a statue.

I took out my phone and sent Matthew a text message.

Me: "She tweeted."

Matthew: "I see, sir. Should we handle this in public relations?"

Me: "No need. Let the bullets fly for a while."

I turned off my phone and lit a cigarette.

Smoke filled the car. I looked at the road ahead, a barely perceptible smile playing on my lips.

The game has only just begun.