Chapter 594: "Who’s more destined for Martin?"

The day after speaking with Martin on the phone, Eric met him at the Kempinski Hotel.

After their secretive discussion, Eric left in high spirits.

Once he was gone, Gordon turned to Martin and said, "You don't actually need to meet these people in person. I can handle them for you."

Martin shook his head with a faint smile. "It's fine. Meeting them in person makes no difference—my subordinates will handle the rest anyway. What we need are people who can get their hands dirty. Not mercenaries like Satan, who are only good at killing, but individuals with skills like FBI agents—surveillance, tailing, lock-picking…"

He added, "The News of the World might've been the black sheep of the media industry, but their paparazzi were truly talented. They had skills on par with FBI agents—surveillance, infiltration, wiretapping… they were pros."

In fact, after News of the World was shut down over its wiretapping scandal, many of its elite paparazzi were actually recruited by the FBI. Their skillsets translated seamlessly. (Yes, that's true.)

Martin had just planted a seed in Eric's mind—a seed that would grow and flourish in due time.

...

Meanwhile, an anxious Harvey Weinstein had no idea that Eric and Martin had joined forces.

He was preoccupied with a bitter legal battle against his soon-to-be ex-wife, Georgina Chapman.

Georgina was demanding $80 million in alimony and a luxury apartment in New York.

Naturally, Harvey was unwilling to pay that much.

But judging by how the case was going, he'd have to bleed—heavily.

"Mr. Weinstein, I still advise settling out of court," his lawyer said. "I've tested your wife's lawyer. We could probably negotiate it down to an apartment worth around fifty million."

Harvey frowned.

He understood the subtext. The lawsuit wasn't a guaranteed win, and these lawyers were all the same—aggressive when billing you, but quick to back off when facing uncertainty. To protect their success rate stats, they preferred to push clients into settlements instead of dragging out risky battles.

His lawyer, to be fair, was decent. An old acquaintance.

Others could be more ruthless. They'd urge you to fight it out, milk you for all the legal fees they could get, then tell you it was a lost cause and advise you to settle.

Take, for instance, a certain "Mr. I-Have-A-Beautiful-Wife-But-Know-Nothing." Whether he was actually deceived by a con artist or not, the lawsuit dragged on for four years and cost him an eye-watering eight figures in legal fees—before he finally settled with the plaintiff.

In the U.S., top-tier lawyers charge $3,000 an hour. Even the wealthy struggle to survive a prolonged lawsuit.

That's why, in American courts, those with capital always win. They don't win because they're right—they win because they can afford to drag you to death. Countless promising small companies have been ground down and acquired this way.

...

Harvey's problems, however, had little to do with Martin.

Well—at least on the surface.

Martin had already returned to Los Angeles.

November in L.A. wasn't cold at all. The sun was bright, the air warm and pleasant.

Martin lounged in a deck chair in the garden, surrounded by the sounds of girls laughing and playing.

"Elizabeth, you only got close to Martin because you happened to be nearby. Hmph! Otherwise, you wouldn't stand a chance."

"Oh, please, Emma," Elizabeth huffed. "I knew Martin first. If it weren't for Harry Potter, you wouldn't even have met him!"

"What do you know? This is what calls fate."

"Hmph! That's why Martin and I are more destined to be together."

"No, I am!"

"I am!"

"I'm more!"

"I have more!"

"Mimi, tell us—who's more destined for Martin?"

Yang Mi, who was quietly eating honeydew melon, was startled to find the drama had reached her.

She put the fruit down, wiped her mouth, and said, "Can you all please stop fighting? You're all destined, okay?!"

"Hey, Mimi! What's with that neutrality? Aren't you supposed to be on my side?" Emma said, looking betrayed.

"Why should she help you?" Elizabeth immediately pounced. "Mimi, from now on we can hang out without her!"

Yang Mi winced. Her head hurt. She raised her hand and tried to steer them off the battlefield. "Okay, okay, truce! How about we all go down to the beach for a swim instead?"

Emma and Elizabeth exchanged a glare.

"Hmph!"

They both turned away with a pout.

Unable to bear the cold war between them, Yang Mi just grabbed the two and dragged them toward the beach.

Bi You handed Martin a glass of juice, watching the girls leave with a smile. "It's so lively around here… but seriously, which one do you actually like?"

She gave him a playful, sidelong glance.

Martin pulled down his sunglasses, looked in the direction of the three girls, and replied with a grin, "I like them all. You, Heather, Elizabeth, Emma, Mimi… Every one of you is my woman. I like all of you, no better or worse."

Bi You giggled—clearly satisfied with that answer.

Martin pulled her into his arms. He didn't do anything else. He simply held this beautiful girl quietly, gazing at the clear blue sky and the drifting white clouds, savoring a rare moment of peace.

...

Some people enjoyed peaceful days—others were plunging into chaos.

Like Harvey Weinstein and Brad Pitt.

Harvey, to his slight fortune, was nearing a settlement with Georgina Chapman: just over $50 million and a Manhattan apartment, and they'd be completely done with each other.

Eric's scheme against him hadn't even begun yet. The storm ahead would be far more terrifying than this minor setback. But Harvey remained blissfully unaware.

Brad Pitt, however, was already knee-deep in disaster.

In just over a month, several more "victims" had come forward to accuse him publicly.

A housekeeper named Kelly Christina told the media:

"In April 1998, I was hired as a maid at the Los Angeles estate Brad Pitt shared with Jennifer Aniston. Since Jennifer was often away in New York, it was just us four maids and Mr. Pitt in that big house for long stretches. One night, Brad Pitt came into my room and…"

The allegations weren't even the worst part.

The real problem? Lawyers.

Like vultures drawn to blood, they smelled "profit." Under their coordination, multiple "victims" were joining forces to sue Brad Pitt for a huge sum in damages.

Even Jennifer Aniston was caught up in the media whirlwind. Reporters swarmed her as she came out of a store:

"Ms. Aniston, how do you feel about the maids' accusations against Mr. Pitt?"

"Were you aware of these incidents?"

"The victims spoke highly of you during their statements. Some said you paid them to stay quiet. Is that true?"

"Did you stay with Pitt just to preserve your marriage?"

"Do you regret your actions now, seeing how your silence may have emboldened him?"

Jennifer Aniston looked grave.

After a moment's silence, she spoke.

"I want to apologize to all the victims. Yes, at the time, I asked them to keep quiet. Out of love, I hoped they would protect Peter. I naively believed that his mistakes stemmed from our time apart."

"But I was wrong. Even when he came to New York, he didn't stop. One betrayal after another taught me that love cannot be bought with weakness—it only invites deceit. That's when I finally made up my mind to leave him."

Tears streamed down Aniston's face. She looked fragile and sincere. The reporters around her showed clear sympathy.

Just a short while ago, Brad Pitt had been vilifying her in the press, blaming the collapse of their marriage entirely on her. And all that time, Jennifer never spoke out in her defense.

It wasn't until his scandals surfaced that the truth came to light—

What a kind and gracious woman she was.