From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

Knock, knock—

Unexpectedly, the sound of knocking came again. Anson's house had never been so lively.

Party?

The door isn't even locked; anyone can come and go freely, so why would they need to knock?

Instinctively, Anson looked at Lucas, "Where else have you been blabbing about my business?"

Lucas met Anson's gaze with a blank expression, looking completely calm.

"Nowhere."

"I only mentioned it to Grandma, oh, right, and Uncle and Aunt…"

"Yes, and Uncle Darren. I asked him if he knew what happened; he's the one who told me you were filming in Portland until recently returning to Los Angeles."

"And then there's…"

Seeing Anson's expression becoming increasingly gloomy, Lucas finally stopped, "No, there's no one else."

Anson, "Heh heh."

Edgar clearly didn't realize what was happening and said to himself.

"Oh, I hope I'm not disturbing your vacation."

"You told me you were preparing to go to Columbus next week, and I thought I should come by before you leave…"

As he spoke, he entered the door, and after seeing the three figures in the hall, he suddenly stalled, his words automatically cut off, and he quickly scanned to make a judgment.

"Mrs. Wood."

"…This should be…"

Mr. Wood.

The words were already on the tip of his tongue, but Edgar didn't forget the blunder he made last time in the Upper West Side of New York. At this moment, he was cautious and didn't rush to jump to conclusions, looking at Nora.

Before Nora could speak, Lucas took the lead and strode forward, "Lucas Wood."

His black attire and tall, sturdy frame exuded physical pressure, his expressionless demeanor like Lucifer himself.

With just one look, he established dominance.

Edgar wasn't prepared for this, and his muscles reflexively stiffened. It wasn't until he shook hands that he realized the muscles in his arm were completely tense.

"Edgar Cooke."

Lucas didn't pause, "So you're the agent who let Hayden Christensen and Brad Renfro bully Anson without doing anything?"

Anson covered his forehead, "Lucas…"

But this time, Lucas ignored Anson, staring intently at Edgar.

Edgar's heart skipped a beat, but he calmed down, adopting the professional stance of an agent, "Anson's private friendships are not within my scope of business. I cannot and do not want to interfere."

"My job is to ensure that Anson's interests and image are not harmed. Believe me, whether it's Hayden or Brad, I've made all the necessary preparations. I won't allow them to slander my actor casually."

Professional, objective, rational.

Edgar wasn't led by the nose by Lucas.

Lucas slightly raised his chin, scrutinizing Edgar with focused eyes.

That look was unsettling.

Edgar hadn't done anything wrong, but he couldn't help but feel uneasy.

He had only one thought in his mind: escape.

Edgar tried to remain calm, "Anson, it seems today isn't a good day to discuss business. I won't disturb your vacation. I'll come by another day."

Before he could finish speaking, a voice interjected, the gentle and refined tone like warm winter sunshine falling on a calm lake, rippling with light.

"No need to rush. Since you're here, why not stay and chat for a while? Working busily all day long, it's necessary to occasionally stop for ten minutes and enjoy a cup of coffee. These moments outside of work are what truly belong to life."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Charles Wood."

Charles once again demonstrated his extraordinary social skills, subtly dismantling the other party's defenses and quietly taking control.

Edgar's steps, which were about to leave, stopped in place. Edgar didn't know what had happened. By the time he came back to his senses, he was already sitting on the sofa, surrounded by three Woods, unknowingly trapped.

Anson quietly watched this scene, oh, poor Captain.

However, Anson didn't say much after all. Just as the kettle whistled, signaling that the water had boiled, Anson turned and went into the kitchen to get busy.

When the coffee was served, Anson immediately saw Edgar's pitiful SOS signal. It seemed that he had lost weight in just a few minutes. The puffiness from waking up in the morning had completely disappeared, and his dark circles seemed to be even heavier.

Anson wanted to laugh, but it seemed inappropriate, so he restrained himself.

This was the first time he had seen Edgar like this. He never thought that Edgar had this side to him. With a mischievous thought, Anson pretended not to see Edgar's signal and turned to leave.

Edgar panicked, "Anson…"

He called out.

Anson turned back, his eyes full of innocence.

Edgar twitched his stiff mouth, sweat seeming to seep from his forehead, "Where are you going?"

"The sugar bowl and milk." Anson said matter-of-factly, "Or do you all drink it black?"

In his panic, Edgar hurriedly said, "I'll have it black. Just right, to wake me up in the morning." To prove his words, Edgar picked up the coffee and took a big gulp.

Anson, "Hot…"

Before the words could come out, Edgar bared his teeth, and his entire face quickly gathered towards the center, his hands and feet also curling up and twisting.

Seeing this, Nora, whom he didn't know, completely raised the corners of her mouth.

Edgar couldn't bother complaining, "This coffee… are you sure?"

Scalding, that was bad, but he was mentally prepared for it; the point was, the taste like ashtray water, was this normal?

Charles glanced at the coffee, silently sat back, not planning to try it at all, "Anson, how did you brew it?"

"Coffee plus water, what else?" Anson said matter-of-factly.

The same coffee beans and coffee powder, but sometimes, the coffee brewed can be two completely different worlds. Some people just aren't suitable.

Charles was thinking about how he should tell his youngest son this.

But Anson continued, "Look at Lucas, he doesn't have a problem."

Lucas calmly held the coffee cup, as if he was tasting the most delicious coffee in the world, calmly and slowly savoring it.

This scene stunned Edgar, making him doubt his life: Could it be that there was something wrong with his taste?

Edgar took another shallow sip, yes, it was the taste of ashtray water!

"Captain, you just said you had work matters?"

Finally, Anson didn't continue the prank, saving Edgar from his dire predicament.

Edgar suddenly stood up and nodded vigorously. At this moment, he didn't care about the bitterness in his mouth. Compared to physical torture, mental torture was even more terrifying.

"Yes, work."

Anson led Edgar towards the garden, and just as they were walking away, a voice came again.

"Mom, I saw you pick it up and put it down again, you should at least try it."

Nora: Her smile was not a smile.