Hollywood: From Shadows To The Spotlight

[Chapter 19: Consequences (II)]

Last Time on Chapter 018 of [From Shadows To The Spotlight] —

She realized that she had hugged the wrong person's leg to get ahead; if she could somehow get closer to Alex and earn his trust or favor, then she might still have a shot at fulfilling her dream.

Thatcher sighed heavily and rubbed his temples. "You've got until tomorrow to issue your apology," he said. "Make it count. And don't even think about trying to pin this on anyone else. The apology has to come from you and you alone."

Linda nodded mutely, feeling the weight of her defeat settle on her shoulders.

Now Continuing —

Linda realized that she had hugged the wrong person's leg to get ahead; if she could somehow get closer to Alex and earn his trust or favor, then she might still have a shot at fulfilling her dream.

Thatcher sighed heavily and rubbed his temples. "You've got until tomorrow to issue your apology," he said. "Make it count. And don't even think about trying to pin this on anyone else. The apology has to come from you and you alone."

Linda nodded mutely, feeling the weight of her defeat settle on her shoulders.

With her verbal thrashing done with, Linda quietly left the office. After the door closed behind her, and she was out of earshot, Mr. Thatcher let out a deep, shaking breath. He got up from his chair and walked over to the small bookshelf in the corner of his office; it was actually his hidden liquor cabinet.

His hands trembled slightly as he poured himself a glass of his favorite scotch. He downed the amber liquid in one gulp, the ever-familiar burn that used to put his nerves at ease through multitudes of winds and storms he had faced before in the industry did very little now to soothe his nerves.

Thatcher had created plenty of "scandals" in his time, used to using all means necessary to destroy a person's credibility and character at the whims of Hollywood's Big Six. This Alex Masters wasn't supposed to be any different at first glance, so he hadn't even deemed it important enough to look into the man himself. Oh, how sorely he regretted his act of gross negligence now.

But sadly, there was no medicine for regret in this world. It was only after over half of the shareholders of Tribune had been bought out overnight that he even received the news. Alex had done it through different people, so he wasn't even made aware of him being on the verge of losing his life's work until it was already too late. 

He realized that this definitely couldn't have been a coincidence, and immediately thought that it must've been Alex behind this hostile takeover. But he still hadn't realized just how utterly fucked he was until he received the phone call.

It made him understand that this witch hunt that they had instigated was going to end quite differently than their usual hunts. Alex Masters wasn't just another Hollywood player. The man had power, influence, and—most terrifyingly—a knack for striking back without even leaving a single trace of his involvement.

He shuddered at the memory of that dreaded conversation he had last night, and this phone call he was about to make was the last thing he wanted to do. But he knew that man had him by his balls, and any resistance was futile.

Letting out a sigh of regret for having the misfortune of mistakenly crossing paths with Alex Masters. He picked up the phone and dialed a number he had memorized but hoped he'd never have to use again. The line clicked, and a smooth voice answered.

"It's done," Thatcher said, his voice hoarse. "She's issuing the apology. But she gave me a name—Warner says she'll narrow it down to your guy in a few days."

There was a pause. Then the voice on the other end said, "Fair enough. That's all I needed to hear… as for your other situation, consider it resolved… for now. But only after I've seen the apology, and you tell me the name of the bastard behind this mess. And remember, if you lie to me, I will find out, and when I do, I will end you. I know everything that happened on January 17th last year, so don't f**king test me."

The line went dead, leaving Thatcher staring at the receiver.

He poured himself another drink, his hand trembling even more than before, as he realized that some of the more harrowing skeletons in his closet would be ousted if he didn't comply. The cost of crossing Alex Masters, he realized, was far higher than he had ever imagined.

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~The Next Day~

Linda Carver sat under the unforgiving lights of the press room; her face was powdered to look pale and pitiful, but her expressions and body language were still composed in a mask of professionalism that the people felt like they could see through. It was a careful balancing act meant to spark the pity in the viewer's minds; she hauntingly stared into the myriad of cameras and reporters waiting to pounce on her.

The bright flashes seemed to mock her, capturing her humiliation for all eternity. She decided it was time to begin her act. Letting go of a sigh, she leaned forward and gripped the edges of the podium, knuckles white, as the room hushed in anticipation of her following words.

Clearing her throat, she began, her voice trembling slightly, ready to deliver the speech she had spent the entire last night awake, writing and practicing her delivery of it. After all, for all she knew, her future depended on it.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. I stand before you today not as the editor of The Hollywood Tribune, but as a person who has made a grave error in their judgment—an error that has hurt and brought emotional distress to innocent people, including Mr. Alex Masters, and caused undue harm to the memory of his late friend."

The room was silent except for the faint clicking of cameras; many of the seasoned journalists and reporters had their jaws in their laps as they were unable to wrap their minds around what they were witnessing. Linda Carver, one of the most infamous women in Hollywood journalism, was bowing her head and sincerely apologizing for spreading misinformation and lies.

Something which she had done before as well, and went completely unscathed. So what was different this time? Was it Alex Masters pulling the strings in the background? The reporters and journalists in the crowd didn't have a definitive answer, as only Linda herself could answer that query.

But they knew that she would never rat out the boss above her, as she was already in hot waters. This incident made them reevaluate Alex Masters as a target and raised him to the same level as one of the Big Six, or close to it. Only people on that level with that much power and influence could make the Tribune bow its head and issue such a sincere public apology.

Linda swallowed hard, her carefully prepared statement suddenly feeling heavier than when she'd rehearsed it last night.

"In my zeal to pursue what I thought was a major story, I failed to properly verify the evidence that was presented to me by Ms. Veronica. This failure was not only unprofessional but deeply unethical. For that, I take full responsibility. I offer my sincerest apologies to Mr. Masters, his family, his friends, and to everyone affected by this baseless scandal."

Her voice broke slightly, but she pressed on. "I also apologize for resurrecting the painful memories of a man no longer with us. It was thoughtless and wrong to exploit his name for a sensational headline."

This statement made the room immediately quieten, as never in their lifetime would they've dreamt of Linda being so outspoken about her mistakes and freely admitting them so unabashedly.

Linda's eyes scanned the room, meeting the astonished yet judging and calculative gazes of her peers. Her breath hitched, but she forced herself to continue. "To Mr. Masters, I humbly ask for your forgiveness and assure you that I will do everything in my power to prevent such actions in the future."

With a shaky exhale, she concluded with a deep bow from her waist, showing her Asian roots, "I deeply regret my actions, and I promise to work toward rebuilding the trust I have lost."

Linda stepped back from the podium, her hands trembling as real tears threatened to fall from her eyes. The reporters erupted into a flurry of questions, but she remained a mask of calm professionalism that was beginning to crack at the seems.

So, she quickly turned on her heel and walked out of the room, her head held high, and her assured stride projected a kind of confidence that she wasn't feeling on the inside. As in reality, all she truly felt was the shame and humiliation of her recent actions that were a blow to her pride and ego and threatened to swallow her whole.

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The fallout of Mrs. Carver's public apology was immediate. News outlets dissected every word of Linda's apology, framing it as a "historic capitulation" and "a humiliating moment for The Hollywood Tribune." Late-night talk show hosts and internet forums exploded with commentary.

One reply read:

"Linda Carver finally eats crow. About time someone in Hollywood faces real consequences."

Another stated:

"Alex Masters deserves better. This apology is a start, but the damage done and coming after a man using his dead friend as an excuse is truly unforgivable."

The reply to the previous comment read:

"I hope he sues that bitch Veronica to high hell. She thinks that just because she is beautiful and was once a sought-after heroine, she can pull stupid stunts like these and there would be no consequences."

A moderator of the thread flagged that comment and asked the commenter to refrain from using profanity as this was a public thread that is accessible to teenagers and children.

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~Jay Leno's Monologue~

The familiar sound of the Tonight Show theme played in the background as Jay Leno stepped onto the stage to an enthusiastic applause from the crowd. He adjusted his tie and grinned, the twinkle in his eye promising a night of wit and humor.

And when the laughter finally subsided, he leaned against his desk and launched into his prepared monologue, a ritual he had become quite well known for.. well other than his prominent chin, that is, something that he was quite thankful for as he got teased a lot less.

"All right, folks, let's talk about the big news this week. Hollywood has been buzzing—again—but this time, it's not about who's dating who or which starlet wore it better."

"No, this time it's about Mrs. Linda Carver from The Hollywood Tribune. You all saw the apology, right? Heartfelt, sincere—probably written with the help of a dozen lawyers, but hey, it did the job."

The audience chuckled as Jay smirked, shaking his head.

"Now, Linda made a mistake. We all do, right? I mean, I once accidentally introduced Sharon Stone as Sharon Osbourne. It happens. But what's impressive here isn't just the apology—it's the guy at the center of all this, Alex Masters."

He paused for effect, his tone softening as he leaned forward.

"Now, if you don't know Alex Masters, don't worry—you're about to. He's the guy behind quite a few of the movies we've all loved and enjoyed this past decade; the man has been pulling the strings behind the scenes."

"And let me tell you, staying calm while your name gets dragged through the mud? That takes real strength of mind and character. I stub my toe, and I'm suing the coffee table! But Alex? He just sat back and kept his cool, and when the truth of the matter was finally revealed by our friends at Chicago Daily, he even forgave the people involved and moved on."

The audience murmured approvingly, some clapping softly.

"Yeah, forgiving. Crazy idea, huh? In a town that loves its drama, Alex is out here saying, 'You know what? Let's move on.' And after Linda's apology, he's done just that. No gloating, no revenge tour, no exclusive interviews to bring down the other person—just dignity and class."

Jay straightened, his expression serious but still warm.

"Hollywood could use a lot more of that, don't you think? It's easy to burn bridges in this town, but Alex? He's building them. And if the rumors are true about the projects he's got in the pipeline, we're all gonna be very grateful he did."

He gestured to the audience, his grin returning.

"So let's give it up for Alex Masters, folks. The man's got a lot of grace—and let's be honest, in Hollywood, that's even rarer than a good sequel!"

The crowd erupted into applause and laughter, and Jay nodded with satisfaction. "All right, we've got a great show tonight—stick around, folks!"

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After the truth had been revealed by Mrs. Ross from Chicago Daily, the air on set had already begun to change, but Linda's public apology had dropped a bombshell that cleared all vestiges of doubt remaining amongst Alex's crew. The shift in the mood and sentiments was palpable, like the lifting of an unseen weight from the minds of the skeptics.

The air, once filled with quiet speculation and uncertain glances, now buzzed with a newfound energy. The revelation had hit like a thunderclap, silencing doubts and reigniting their admiration for the man that was at the helm, steering their ambitious project.

Elijah Wood sat cross-legged near a makeshift table piled with scripts, his eyes fixed on the monitor replaying the morning's takes. He nudged Orlando Bloom, who was stretching in preparation for his next scene.

"I always knew he didn't do it," Elijah said, his voice thoughtful. "The way he just stayed silent—it says a lot about his character."

Orlando tilted his head, considering. "Most people would've lashed out, gone to war in the tabloids. But Alex? He waited. Played it smart. That takes… I can't even comprehend the kind of restraint it must've taken to pull it off."

Ian McKellen, leaning against a nearby prop barrel, joined the conversation with a slight smirk. "A man who values integrity over immediate vindication… Rare in our world, wouldn't you say?"

His deep, resonant voice carried across the set, catching the attention of several crew members and background artists. The surrounding group began nodding in agreement, their hushed conversations weaving a collective realization: Alex Masters wasn't just their director; he was a force to be reckoned with, both on and off set, and someone who could be trusted.

"I heard he had the evidence all along," Viggo Mortensen said, walking over with a mug of coffee in hand. He looked between Ian and Elijah, his tone subdued yet brimming with respect. "Could've dropped it weeks ago, but he waited. Made sure everyone digging that hole for him fell in first."

Orlando let out a low whistle. "And came out looking like a saint. It's kind of genius, isn't it?"

Across the set, Nicole Kidman stood with her arms crossed, watching the exchange from a distance. She leaned closer to Catherine, who was adjusting her scarf in the crisp air. "It's wild, isn't it? I mean, I've worked with so many directors and stars, but this guy? He's built different."

Catherine raised an eyebrow. "Built different?"

"You know what I mean," Nicole said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "He doesn't just direct a film—he commands the whole process. It's like he's orchestrating a symphony. And now, with this whole scandal behind him… Honestly, it just adds to his mystique."

— To be Continued...

{2.5k words}

{TRL: This is the new Hollywood story that has been bouncing around in my head. I really need to get this out so here's another chapter.

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