From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

The torment of guilt and fear lingered, undiminished; yet, it was precisely this torment that triggered an uncontrollable surge of adrenaline.

A touch of apprehension, a hint of wavering, a flutter of panic.

Nevertheless, Harry Pace was there.

Quietly, discreetly, he appeared at the entrance of Mount Sinai Hospital, standing among the crowd, concealing his presence, his eyes fixed on the unfolding situation.

A bustling throng, layer upon layer, countless media personnel crowded the entrance. As the city with the highest concentration of media outlets in North America, New York easily surpassed Los Angeles in the number of reporters stationed there. At this moment, it seemed as though half of New York City's media had swarmed towards Mount Sinai Hospital.

And more media were en route.

Because it was a hospital, the reporters controlled their volume, lowering their voices, yet the rustling agitation in the air was palpable.

However, there were still no leads—

Sony Columbia, the "Spider-Man 2" production team, and Ansen's agent, among others, had all failed to provide an official response, leaving the media hanging.

The situation was somewhat abnormal.

Because the scene was becoming increasingly crowded and chaotic, it was hard to imagine that more reporters were still arriving.

Ansen Wood, merely a pretty face.

Logically, people always mock, ridicule, and despise pretty faces. Since some unknown point in time, "pretty face" has become a derogatory term.

But now, within a mere two weeks, New York had twice plunged into a media frenzy because of this pretty face, igniting a massive wave of hype.

So, was it because "Spider-Man 2" was too spectacular, or because Ansen's influence as a pretty face far exceeded expectations?

However, that wasn't important.

The only thing that mattered now was that reporters were flocking from every corner of the city, besieging Mount Sinai Hospital, hoping to be the first to learn about the situation that had occurred on set.

Unfortunately, there was nothing.

As they waited, the reporters gradually lost patience, their words inevitably revealing their true thoughts—

Why should a mere pretty face put on airs in front of them?

The media paid attention to Ansen because he was a source of gossip, and gossip was valuable; but now Ansen was actually putting on airs, acting like a superstar, which was absurd.

Did winning a Palme d'Or make him so arrogant that he genuinely considered himself a superstar?

If they weren't going to respond, so be it. If the officials wouldn't respond, they would naturally find a breakthrough. In such a large hospital, they could always find a point of entry, and they could always seize some clues, no matter how small.

The main thing was that the production team had summoned a group of security guards, all dressed in black suits, like prison wardens, surrounding the reporters and preventing them from entering the hospital.

It was a clear signal for the reporters to get lost—

Which was going too far.

Although the two pioneering trailblazers failed to succeed, other reporters eventually did.

After all, this was a hospital, and the production team couldn't possibly intercept everyone entering and exiting the hospital.

However, entering the hospital was also useless, as the doctors and nurses were all tight-lipped—

To be precise, rather than being tight-lipped, they were completely unaware.

Ansen's ward was truly impregnable, and all the doctors and nurses involved in Ansen's treatment had signed confidentiality agreements, so that even the hospital's internal staff were completely clueless.

"We're still expecting you to give us the answers," one nurse said, her eyes bright as she looked at the reporter, uncharacteristically putting the reporter in a difficult position.

Different attempts, different adventures, all ended in failure, and the reporters finally had to accept a cruel reality:

They were helpless.

Apart from waiting outside the door, there was nothing they could do; and now it wasn't the era of social media, and they couldn't frantically complain on their personal accounts. One by one, they were trapped at Mount Sinai Hospital, unable to move.

This feeling was not only frustrating, but also stifling.

In the midst of chattering exchanges of opinions, they became more and more angry, more and more speechless, and then, with the instigation of some interested parties, the scene was like a pressure cooker, on the verge of explosion, and the air gradually heated up.

Finally, a small group of people could no longer control themselves, and two or three people took the lead in rushing towards the blockade of black suits, righteously protesting.

"You can't do this, we have the right to know."

"We are also concerned about Ansen and the production team, and the general public has the right to know the situation."

"You're all just Smiths, call out your leader, we need to talk."

"What exactly is going on? Where are the production team or the film company's representatives? Someone come out, anyone, a living person, not you robots."

"Is Ansen dead or alive, give us a straight answer."

"So, how bad is the situation? Is Ansen completely paralyzed and become a vegetable?"

In an instant, the air fell silent, and the last two sentences echoed clearly and loudly in their ears, suddenly grabbing their hearts, so that they couldn't react.

Behind the black suits, a figure appeared—

A tall man in all black, without a trace of color, his calm and composed face devoid of any expression, no anger, no confusion, no entanglement, nothing, like an unfathomable abyss, emitting a trace of coldness, involuntarily making people feel intimidated.

He looked over, found the source of the voice, and quietly looked at the reporter.

That person swallowed, slightly nervous, his throat tightening, but he still opened his mouth, "What? What are you looking at? You're being secretive, aren't you just worried that Ansen has become a vegetable? You're allowed to be guilty, but we're not allowed to question you? We have the right to know the truth."

That person cleverly turned to look at the other reporters, raising his arms and shouting, seeking support.

However, the man in all black remained expressionless, simply examining the other person, as if looking at an object.

Just as everyone thought he was about to speak, he turned to look at the surrounding black suits, "Throw him out."

Indeed, treating him as an object.

"Anyone who intends to force their way in, just throw them out. If there are any lawsuits, don't worry, we'll take care of it."

Calm and collected, stating the facts, his calm tone as if he were dealing with old furniture being discarded at home.

In an instant, it gripped the throats of the surrounding reporters, and the rustling commotion subsided, their eyes wide with shock as they gathered towards the man in black.

The man in black paused, and then scanned the crowd again, but did not look at the outspoken ringleader.

"If there are any problems, feel free to find me. Lucas Wood, I'll be waiting."

Heh.

The last bit of noise was also cut off, the man in front of them was clearly Ansen's relative, perhaps, his brother?

The reporters who had been waving the banner of "freedom of the press" a second ago, were now as quiet as chickens—

They still had professional ethics, and the reporters slammed on the brakes before the moral bottom line, and one by one they didn't dare to look Lucas in the eye.

Lucas ignored them completely, and looked at the black suits again, "I said, throw that trash out."

After speaking, Lucas turned around and re-entered the hospital, striding away without looking back.