Eve truly lived up to her professional reputation. With just a small opening, her mind raced ahead, piecing together the big picture from small details—she could now see the entire grand blueprint.
Michael Lynton planned to replace Anson. Did he not foresee the backlash from public opinion? Was he unaware of Anson's overwhelming popularity?
Clearly, Michael knew. He wouldn't recklessly expose his true intentions by acting too hastily.
However, an unexpected element emerged—Sam Raimi.
Sam unhesitatingly sided with Anson, and his all-in stance shifted the dynamics, causing Sony-Columbia to tread more cautiously.
At present, everything seemed calm at Sony-Columbia, like the calm before the storm. Perhaps Michael was waiting for Anson to make the first move so he could respond accordingly, avoiding an early reveal of his own ambitions, turning both disadvantages and advantages into momentum for himself.
Suddenly, Eve's eyes lit up.
"Anson is right."
Anson shrugged casually, "Well, I'm always right, but do go on."
Eve: Heh.
"We can't stir up Kristen and James. If we band together, Anson, who started as the victim, could quickly be seen as the one disrupting team unity, someone attempting to break ties with Sony-Columbia over a minor issue. Worse, they might accuse him of staging everything to seize control of production."
"Michael Lynton has set a trap, and he's waiting for us to fall into it."
Eve quickly connected all the dots, casting a look of surprise at Anson.
She knew Anson was smart—but this smart?
This wasn't just intelligence; it showed a deep understanding of news, media, PR, and public opinion.
Anson noticed Eve's scrutinizing gaze and wore a look of casual confidence, smiling back at her.
After a brief pause, Eve convinced herself she might be overthinking it. Maybe it was just a coincidence, and Anson had simply rejected the proposal to avoid putting moral pressure on his friends.
Anson remained calm. "So, what's your suggestion?"
Eve pulled her thoughts together. "We can't be direct or forceful. We need a well-thought-out plan before confronting Sony-Columbia."
"Even though the situation caught us off guard, we still hold the moral high ground. As long as we don't make any stupid mistakes, we can strike back."
"My guess is, Michael Lynton didn't expect this 'pretty face'—you—to stay so calm and even turn the tables on him."
Anson glanced at Eve. "I have a strategy, actually. I'm not sure it'll work, but it might be useful."
Eve and Edgar exchanged a look, eyes brightening slightly.
Whenever Anson started strategizing, it usually meant trouble for someone.
Michael Lynton: Ahchoo!
What's going on?
Michael looked around, but nothing seemed out of place. Still, he couldn't stop sneezing—three in a row, leaving his ears ringing.
Was he coming down with a cold?
...
Dusk slowly fell outside Sinai Hospital, and the bright light outside the window gradually turned into a glorious golden hue, even more magnificent than at sunrise.
Anson was quietly admiring the blazing sunset.
Forced to lie in bed after being injured—especially with the damage to his waist and back—Anson had no choice but to rest, unable to move. Lucas had used the doctor's orders as an excuse to completely pin Anson down.
Perhaps the only silver lining was that he now had plenty of time to stop, breathe, and look up at the sky.
He had heard before that modern people were too tired, too busy. Everyone was trapped by their desires and pressures, constantly running, heads bowed under the weight, never looking up to the sky.
Since the advent of smartphones, people were even more trapped within their screens. Not only did they miss out on the sky, but their immediate world became blurred, and all that was left was the virtual world on their phone, drifting further away from reality.
Every now and then, it was good to stop and look up, to find a patch of sky amidst the skyscrapers, to trace the clouds and the sun, to seek infinite possibilities in the vast universe. It made life's worries and problems seem trivial, no longer important.
Anson had always tried to remind himself of this, not to repeat the mistakes of his past life, to occasionally look up at the sky.
But he hadn't expected that, in the busyness of recent times, he had also forgotten this simple task.
Perhaps this injury wasn't all bad.
So while the world outside buzzed in chaos, Anson found a moment of peace, enjoying the sunset—a brief escape from the whirlwind of life.
Knock, knock.
There was a light knock at the door, not loud or forceful, almost as if unsure whether they wanted a response from the person inside.
It felt a bit like a thief testing the waters—if no one inside reacted, it would be a green light to proceed, even if someone was there.
Sure enough, before Anson could respond, the door creaked open. A head poked in, looking around stealthily. As soon as they spotted Anson lying in bed, watching with an amused expression, it was as if they had been caught mid-act.
The visitor awkwardly scratched their neck and stepped inside, standing straight against the wall like a student caught in the principal's office.
"Anson," they mumbled sheepishly.
Anson's smile widened. "Judging by your stance, you must've spent a fair bit of time in the principal's office."
The visitor chuckled awkwardly, not denying it.
Anson joined in the laughter but quickly stopped, a hint of concern crossing his face. "Jack, you shouldn't have come back to New York."
Standing before him was Jack Forrest, the boy who had once fled New York at all costs.
Jack had always tried to stay far away from New York, fearing that both he and his mother would be dragged back into their past. But now, he had returned.
Anson couldn't help but worry.
Jack glanced at Anson, a little awkward. "You're the one who needs worrying right now, not me."
Anson blinked, then burst out laughing. "Well, looks like someone's grown up—learning to fight back. That's a good thing."
Jack grinned.
Anson continued, "First off, I'm fine. Half the hospital is keeping an eye on me, and now I get why kings hate being sick—it's more annoying than the illness itself."
"Secondly, you should fight back. Stand up for yourself. If you ever run into that man, don't just let him get away with it."