"Jessie, I just suspect that you’ve been deceived by soone else."
Holding a coffee cup with both hands, Michelle Rodriguez wore a look of sisterly concern. "You’d better go back and ask—does Christopher Rokenkort really have a problem?"
"How is that possible... how is that possible..."
Unwilling and unable to believe these words, Jessica Alba looked devastated. "It can’t be true; it absolutely can’t be true."
A fleeting smile appeared at the corner of Michelle Rodriguez’s mouth. Just monts ago, Jessica Alba had been boasting like a princess about her role as the leading lady in a so-called blockbuster. Now, she had transford from a princess to a lost and broken soul hiding in the shadows.
Initially, Michelle had competed for the female lead in the film but was pushed aside when Jessica Alba suddenly swooped in and took the role. Michelle Rodriguez had never forgotten this.
Without hesitation, she dropped a bombshell. "Don’t forget, I also invested $500,000 in your project. Do you think I want this to be fake?"
"And I got my information from Duke Rosenberg and Frank Pearson. When Duke negotiated with Christopher Rokenkort, he had soone investigate him..."
Jessica Alba’s radiant eyebrows drooped, and her once-sweet face was replaced with a mournful expression. She didn’t know how she left the café or drove back to the house she shared with Christopher Rokenkort.
Now, she had only one thought—to confront that bastard!
Opening the door, Jessica Alba walked in. Christopher Rokenkort was lounging on the sofa, sipping red wine leisurely, his mood high as usual, as if the big project was truly coming to fruition.
"Hey, sweetheart." Christopher Rokenkort saw Jessica Alba enter in a daze. "Didn’t you say you had a coffee date? Back so soon?"
Hearing her boyfriend’s words, Jessica Alba snapped out of her daze, forcing herself to remain composed as she sat opposite Christopher Rokenkort. Her eyes fixed on him.
"What’s wrong?" Christopher Rokenkort asked with so confusion.
Jessica steadied her emotions, and her face gradually took on a look of accusation. "Are you really planning to produce a blockbuster?"
Christopher Rokenkort’s startled expression flickered briefly but quickly regained composure. "Sweetheart, haven’t you been involved the whole ti?"
This foolish woman—had she realized sothing?
He quickly asked, "What happened, Jessie?"
"You’re still lying to !" Jessica Alba suddenly stood up. "Duke Rosenberg already had soone investigate you!"
"What?" Christopher Rokenkort could no longer maintain his composure. He imdiately stood, practically leaping forward to grab Jessica Alba’s shoulders. "What did you say?"
"You liar!"
Caught off guard, Jessica Alba swung her arm, slapping him across the face with a resounding smack. "You despicable, shaless liar!"
Christopher Rokenkort froze montarily before reacting. He slapped her back with considerable force, causing Jessica Alba to stumble and fall onto the sofa.
She glared at Christopher Rokenkort. "You dare hit ? You’re done for! Duke Rosenberg has exposed your true nature. Those investors won’t let you off!"
Hearing this, Christopher Rokenkort no longer needed confirmation. He glanced at Jessica Alba, then strode toward the study.
He was fully aware of how serious the exposure of his actions would be, along with his past...
If those people called the police and he got caught, he’d face the wrath of countless prominent figures. What would beco of him then?
Entering the study, he retrieved a suitcase and opened the safe, filling the suitcase with passports and cash.
In less than a minute, a tall figure appeared in the study.
"You can’t leave!" Jessica Alba stood at the doorway holding a phone. "I’ve invested $1.5 million in your project and even mortgaged two houses. You’re not leaving like this!"
Christopher Rokenkort ignored her, continuing to pack his suitcase.
He had to leave imdiately. If he acted quickly, he might even have his accountant transfer the funds he’d already secured as bait. Though he hadn’t obtained Duke Rosenberg’s fortune, the tens of millions he had would still ensure his freedom.
"Did you hear ?" Jessica Alba scread. "Give back my money, or I’ll call the police!"
Christopher Rokenkort snapped the suitcase shut, stood, and looked at Jessica Alba with disdain in his eyes. "Go ahead and call, sweetheart. Don’t forget, most of the investnts were secured with your help. From a legal standpoint, you’re my accomplice..."
"You..." Jessica Alba’s hand holding the phone slowly dropped as she muttered, "I won’t let you get away with this. I won’t."
"Ha..." Christopher Rokenkort sneered, as if venting his pent-up disgust. "I may be a scamr, but what about you? STDs, cheating, promiscuity, drugs... Ha! Just thinking about sleeping with you makes want to vomit!"
At this, Christopher Rokenkort suppressed his nausea and, no longer hiding his disdain, marched toward Jessica Alba at the doorway, eager to escape Los Angeles.
Having spent ten years in Hollywood, he knew that in this country, money often equated to power. Now that his identity was exposed, he had angered soone with a net worth of at least a billion dollars!
"Move!" he ordered coldly as he reached Jessica Alba, blocking the doorway.
"You can’t leave!"
Having staked her entire fortune on the so-called project, Jessica Alba wasn’t letting him leave. She grabbed the suitcase he was holding in his left hand.
A flash of ruthlessness crossed Christopher Rokenkort’s eyes. Fighting off his disgust, he grabbed her brown hair and violently flung her into the study. Jessica Alba scread as her hands instinctively let go of the suitcase to protect her head.
"Pathetic!" Christopher Rokenkort snarled, his hand gripping her neck to shove her further into the room.
The strength difference between n and won was evident. Jessica Alba staggered forward and tripped on the carpet, landing hard and hitting her head on a wooden coat rack. A burning pain radiated as dizziness set in, followed by a liquid dripping down her nose.
She wiped her hand and saw it covered in blood.
"Disgusting woman!"
From the doorway ca Christopher Rokenkort’s voice again. His body was already turned away. Betrayed, beaten, and insulted, Jessica Alba snapped, her final shred of rationality vanishing.
She reached behind her—she had prepared for this.
Jessica Alba pulled out a small revolver from her waistband and aid at Christopher Rokenkort, just as she had practiced at the shooting range. She pulled the trigger...
"Bang... Bang... Bang..."
The gunshots rang out three tis in quick succession. However, Jessica Alba’s wrist strength was insufficient. Her first shot hit Christopher Rokenkort’s shoulder, the second went astray, and the third struck his buttocks...
As the gunfire echoed, Jessica Alba’s rage dissipated. The sight of Christopher Rokenkort writhing in pain on the floor, bleeding, reminded her of what she had done.
"Oh, rciful Lord..."
Her fury gone, fear overtook her delicate face. Jessica Alba dropped the revolver and stared at Christopher Rokenkort, now lying in a pool of blood, unsure of what to do next.
The gunshots not only woke Jessica Alba but also alerted the nearby neighbors. In Beverly Hills, police responded within minutes.
When officers arrived, they carefully assessed the scene and called for dical assistance. By the ti paradics arrived, Christopher Rokenkort had already lost consciousness.
"He’s a fraud! He deceived everyone in Hollywood!"
When questioned by the police, Jessica Alba, having endured too much in a single day, broke down hysterically. "I fired the shots, and that gun is mine! I wanted to kill him! I had to kill that liar!"
So news spreads exceptionally fast in certain circles. By evening, Frank Pearson had heard of Jessica Alba’s shooting incident and made a few phone calls.
Christopher Rokenkort’s illustrious Hollywood career had reached its end. Even if he recovered from his injuries, he would face the wrath of nurous prominent Hollywood figures. The enormous fraud amount would ensure he spent enough ti in prison.
....
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