From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

The conference room was spotless, spacious, and bright.

Looking out from the thirty-ninth floor, the city streets of Manhattan resembled blood vessels, with vehicles and pedestrians reduced to ants scurrying for a living; however, the height was still not enough, at least not enough to penetrate the cloud cover and feel the unobstructed brightness of the sunlight.

Therefore, people always yearn to climb higher—

Forty-ninth floor. Fifty-ninth floor. Ninety-ninth floor.

Until they overlook the entire world.

But Lucas Wood only found it boring. Everyone craved conquest, conquering the world, conquering the universe, conquering the galaxy, yet the more they craved it, the more they were masking their inner inferiority and barrenness, using those magnificent, grand, and unattainable things to cover up their own insignificance.

So-called conquest has never been about courage or boldness.

However, life always requires finding things to pass the time.

Lucas didn't mind their desire for "conquest," as long as they didn't offend him; in fact, perhaps he could even use this mentality to create a space for himself to enjoy, an eight-thousand-dollar Italian handmade sofa, a ten-thousand-pound British handmade custom suit, a three-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar modern art statue, allowing him to freely and comfortably play in the world.

Actually, it's not bad.

Before him was such a man—

Eloquently talking about his dreams, lavishly describing the world he yearned for, his ambitions, his aspirations, the achievements he longed to reach.

Blah blah blah, blah blah blah, those words contained countless "I I I," Hollywood people always seemed to be like this.

For some reason, Lucas's temples throbbed faintly, his heart skipped a beat, a sudden inexplicable panic, tightly gripped by a sense of unease and tension.

There seemed to be an ominous premonition.

Lucas quietly controlled himself, pulled back his wandering thoughts, leaned his body slightly forward, and decided to interrupt the conversation.

"Mr. Pete."

"Mr. Brad Pitt."

Finally!

This "Sexiest Man Alive" finally stopped his torrent of words, looking at Lucas with great interest, his eyes slightly playful—

No anger, no annoyance, but clearly, he hadn't calmly accepted being interrupted either, his eyes fixed on Lucas, the chewing gum slowing down, slowly, naturally allowing the silence to stiffen the atmosphere.

Lucas never knew that Brad Pitt was such a chatterbox in private.

But that didn't matter.

Lucas simply and decisively threw out the conclusion, "This won't work."

"I know nothing about movies."

"But I know that starting your own film company won't make you a historically significant actor, nor will it make you a wealthy man with financial freedom."

"This is their game, this is a game of Wall Street capital."

"Of course, unless you say you just want the freedom to choose scripts, regardless of the success or failure of the work, to film some characters you're interested in, and change your pretty-boy image, then starting a film company is a good idea."

"Not brilliant, but smart enough."

"But if you hope to change your position in Hollywood and realize your dreams, starting a film company is not a good idea, you'll never surpass the achievements of DreamWorks."

"And they have the funds of three people, but you only have yourself."

"Wait, or is your wife's money also entirely at your disposal?"

Unhurried, unhurried, the straightforward words concealed sharpness, the tone without special fluctuations always maintained objectivity, but falling into the ears carried a sharp mockery, no matter how you listened, it was ear-piercing.

Brad Pitt didn't speak, but aside, his agent was furious.

"You'd better show some respect!"

"This is Brad Pitt, the most valuable man in all of Hollywood, if anyone can change the landscape of Hollywood and become historically significant, he is the only possibility."

Lucas was expressionless, not even his eyebrows moved.

"Oh."

"But even if you become the second DreamWorks, you still can't change your situation and position, because there isn't enough money."

"Here, I'm not talking about just ten billion or twenty billion."

Buzz, buzz, buzz.

The phone vibrated gently.

John Quinn, one of the big bosses of Lucas's company, and also the key figure who promoted Lucas to partner the year before last, has full confidence in Lucas's talent.

When they connected with Brad Pitt, the latter expressed the need for some financial advice and was choosing partners, John hoped to seize the opportunity—

The focus was not on a Brad Pitt, but on an entry point into Hollywood, their company could set up a branch in Los Angeles, and bring those spoiled actors who don't know how to manage their finances into the company, easily opening up a new situation.

John believed in Lucas's ability, and, he had also heard that Lucas's brother seemed to be an actor, which should be a plus.

So far, the situation was slightly tense, but John believed that Lucas was in control, until the phone vibration disrupted the rhythm of the meeting.

John couldn't help but glanced at Lucas—

Was this also an arranged thing? The purpose was to disrupt the order and further defeat Brad Pitt's arrogance?

Lucas glanced at his phone while continuing to speak.

"Starting a film company, this this is a choice, it means you're starting to play their game, but…"

He paused.

Lucas saw the caller ID—

Noah Newman.

Anson's assistant. In the beginning, Anson never looked for an assistant, thinking it wasn't necessary, and always went solo. Lucas simply interviewed an assistant, directly stuffed him to Anson through Edgar, and finalized the matter before Anson could object.

Lucas knew that Anson definitely thought it wasn't necessary, but Anson was soft-hearted. If he fired Noah, it might lead to Noah's unemployment, so Anson, despite his objections, would ultimately keep Noah.

Facts proved that Lucas was right.

So, Noah was calling, had something happened?

His heart raced, the ominous premonition became clearer.

Lucas nodded slightly to Brad to apologize, but didn't have time to speak, and directly answered the phone.

John's expression changed slightly, thought for a moment, and decided to ease the atmosphere, looking at Brad and explaining a few words, "…Recently is the busy season."

In a few words, Lucas had already ended the call, in less than five seconds, "Sorry, emergency situation, I must leave now, please forgive my absence."

After throwing down a bunch of words, Lucas didn't wait for any reaction, turned around and pulled open the conference room door, like a storm, and strode away.

In the conference room, a group of people looked at each other, at a loss, completely not understanding what had happened.

John's smile was still on the corner of his mouth, and it froze there.