Made In Hollywood

"Hello, this is Karl Lagerfeld's office..."

One hand held the phone while the other scribbled quickly in a notebook. Sophia hadn't even put down the receiver when another phone on her desk started ringing. She had to apologize quickly to the caller and pick up the new line. "Hello, this is... Mr. Lagerfeld isn't here right now. Okay, Mr. Versace, I will make sure to relay your message."

The entire afternoon was spent answering calls and taking notes non-stop. Across from her, another senior assistant showed no intention of helping, instead flashing a few faintly mocking smiles.

After work, back in her rented apartment, Sophia opened the door, picked up the newspaper from the floor, and slammed the door shut with a loud bang, as if trying to vent the frustrations and grievances accumulated over the day.

Kicking off her high heels, she collapsed onto the couch like a deflated balloon.

Though she had relied on family connections to barely secure this intern assistant position—a position countless girls across Paris would kill for—she was beginning to regret it.

Since arriving in Paris, Sophia discovered that the Coppola family name held no sway here. The European fashion industry couldn't care less about North America's film circle. Despite her background, she was the lowest-ranking assistant in Lagerfeld's office, constantly oppressed by others and given no chance to shine. She was getting a full taste of office politics and the fierce competition of the workplace.

Fashion wasn't nearly as simple as it appeared. Most of her twenty years had been spent immersed in the world of film, where she could handle work effortlessly. But in fashion? She couldn't even identify many of the industry figures who left their nicknames with her on the phone.

Thinking back to her time in Hollywood, even when working as an intern assistant for David Fincher and Duke, everyone—from producers to extras—treated her with courtesy.

Duke Rosenberg?

That name suddenly popped into her mind, and Sophia clenched her teeth. That guy had once cursed her, saying she'd end up working as Lagerfeld's receptionist, and now...

She realized she hadn't followed up on Duke or *Speed* in a while. Their last conversation had been months ago, when he told her the film was about to be released widely. She had laughed at him, saying he was dreaming.

Now, she picked up her cordless phone and dialed a number in Los Angeles.

"Hi, Nicola, no big deal! I just wanted to ask about something—do you know *Speed*? You do? Has it been released widely in North America? What's the box office?"

"What!"

Hearing the number on the other end, Sophia was stunned. It took her several seconds to respond, "Are you sure you didn't get it wrong? Are you sure it's 130 million dollars? Okay, I understand, thanks, Nicola..."

How... is that even possible?

Even knowing her cousin wouldn't joke about such things, Sophia still couldn't believe that Duke Rosenberg's *Speed* had grossed over a hundred million dollars in North America!

Duke was only a year older than her! And it was his first official film! How could it have been such a huge success?

That guy definitely had some talent, especially in shooting car chases, crashes, and explosions. He had a unique approach! But when it came to directing dramatic scenes, he was a total amateur. To be precise, he was a rookie director!

And yet, he succeeded!

Almost instinctively, Sophia dialed a landline number in Los Angeles. No one picked up...

Back when she was working on the *Speed* set, Sophia had talked most often with Duke. She knew his biggest dream was to become a super director like George Lucas or Steven Spielberg. It was clear he had taken a crucial step toward realizing that dream.

And what about her own film dreams? The ones torn apart by critics with their vicious, scathing words?

Only now did Sophia realize that choosing the fashion industry had been a mistake. Hollywood and the film industry were where she truly belonged.

"If Chanel fires me, you can always come back and be my assistant!"

Remembering Duke's words when she left Los Angeles, Sophia finally understood where her starting point should have been.

In July, Los Angeles wasn't exactly a pleasant place. The hot, dry weather made people irritable. Duke drove past the Fox building but didn't stop. Instead, he turned onto a side road and, after a few more minutes of driving, parked in a hotel parking lot.

Before getting out of the car, Duke adjusted his suit in the rearview mirror. He was about to attend a party hosted by 20th Century Fox to celebrate the success of *Speed*.

Though the sun had long set, and the distance from the parking lot to the hotel entrance wasn't far, Duke was still drenched in sweat by the time he reached the door. Entering the cool lobby, he sighed in relief as the air conditioning hit him.

"Hey, Duke..."

A man in his thirties approached him warmly, shaking his hand. Duke recognized him—it was the assistant to the new CEO of 20th Century Fox, Townsend Rossman.

After a bit of small talk, the man led Duke to the second-floor banquet hall. Clearly, he had been waiting for him.

"Mr. Rosenberg..."

"Director Rosenberg..."

Before entering the hall, Duke ran into two former crew members from the shoot, their names long forgotten. He vaguely remembered they had been assistant cameramen, and aside from work interactions, they hardly spoke to him back then.

Now, they greeted him warmly and even stepped aside to let him pass.

Success is the key to survival in Hollywood! Duke had always believed this.

As two waiters opened the red double doors, the previously noisy banquet hall fell silent. When Duke walked in, someone started clapping, and soon the room erupted into applause!

Unlike film promotions or press conferences, this was his moment—this was the moment when a director became the star!

"Duke, no one in your age group has done better!"

Seeing the CEO of 20th Century Fox, Townsend Rossman, warmly approach him, Duke shook the man's extended hand politely. "Thank you, Mr. Rossman..."

"Call me Townsend."

"Thank you, Townsend."

Though Duke knew full well that the man's friendly demeanor was due to the massive profits he had generated for Fox, he maintained his composure. "Thank you for 20th Century Fox's support."

Next, Townsend introduced Duke to the other Fox executives present. Each greeted him with smiles, especially one man who caught Duke by surprise.

"You've created a miracle, young man."

The man shaking Duke's hand was none other than Tim Fisher, the person who had once rejected *Speed*. Like the other Fox executives, his face was now all smiles. "I've read your latest script. I think we can continue working together."

"I think so too," Duke responded with a light smile.

As the black-clad waiters moved through the crowd, distributing champagne, Townsend Rossman clapped his hands twice and raised a glass high in Duke's direction.

"I propose a toast to the success of *Speed* and to Director Duke Rosenberg!"

"Cheers!"

"Cheers!"

In the banquet hall, countless voices echoed the sentiment, and everyone raised their glasses in a toast to Duke!

The feeling of being the undisputed center of attention was intoxicating for anyone, and even Duke, usually so composed, couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement. Over the past year, he had endured tremendous pressure, with sleepless nights haunting him. But today's success proved that all the mental torment had been worth it.

He had taken the first successful step on the road to his dream as a director!

To my dreams, and to the hard work of two lifetimes—cheers!

With these words in his heart, Duke tilted his head back and downed the champagne in one go.

The atmosphere in the banquet hall was electric. Fox executives continued to approach him, clinking glasses and offering flattering words. It was as if Duke had already become a top-tier director. Yet amid his excitement and pride, Duke kept his head clear. He knew exactly why he was being treated this way.

Because he had made them a lot of money and would likely make them more in the future.

"Duke, how does it feel to be famous?"

A familiar voice came from nearby. Duke turned and saw Robin Grand standing a few feet away. He quickly stepped forward and clinked glasses with him. "I haven't had the chance to thank you."

"I was just doing my job."

Hearing this, Duke chuckled, and so did Robin Grand. Then he added, "Stay on track. Hollywood doesn't forgive two failures in a row."

Nodding seriously, Duke clinked glasses with him again and drained his drink.

Starting with Robin Grand, members of the crew gradually came over to greet him. Their attitudes were nothing like they had been during filming, where everything was strictly business. Now, their faces were all smiles.

"We had a few disagreements during filming..."

Even the assistant director, Cone, came over to offer a toast. "But that was just part of the job."

Duke lightly touched his glass to Cone's and kept his smile polite. "It was all for the sake of the work."

They were no longer on the same level, and Duke had no interest in holding a grudge. He wouldn't be working with that assistant director again, anyway.

As Cone walked away, Uma Thurman and Keanu Reeves approached. "Hey, Duke."

Uma Thurman was unusually enthusiastic, while Keanu Reeves, still in his rebellious phase, wore his usual disinterested expression. Duke didn't mind. Like Conne, he wouldn't be working with Keanu Reeves again either—his looks and acting style didn't fit Duke

He fixed his gaze on the tightly clasped hands of Uma Thurman and Keanu Reeves, raised his glass to the woman, and said with a half-joking tone, "Congratulations, Uma, I didn't expect you two would actually end up together."