ite light spilled over her shoulders, and in her dreamy eyes, a sharp gleam flickered. Sophie Marceau sat cross-legged on the wide sofa, her gaze fixed intently on Mel Gibson, who was standing in front of the wine cabinet. Her beautiful face remained expressionless, like a marble statue carved into the likeness of a stone goddess.
Mel Gibson picked up a bottle of wine and two glasses, walked over to place them on the coffee table in front of Sophie Marceau, poured each of them a drink, and then sat down across from the French actress.
He had already said what needed to be said and knew he had to give the other party some time to think it over.
Sophie Marceau lifted her glass and took a slow sip of wine, her eyes still fixed on the man across from her. It was obvious that what Mel Gibson had said wasn’t just his personal opinion—it likely represented the views of CAA as well. And now, with only the two of them in the room, Sophie knew that once she walked out of that door, Gibson would certainly deny ever having said those words.
The Oscars had always prided themselves on fairness, but the competition behind the scenes was far more complex and darker than she had imagined, no cleaner than France’s César Awards or the Cannes Film Festival.
Wherever people gather, there will be conflict, and this fame-and-fortune-driven industry is no exception. Sophie Marceau had seen it all in her more than ten years in the business, but why was CAA asking so much of her? Just because she was signed with them?
She let out a cold, quiet snort from her elegant nose. Although it wasn’t overt, it was clear she was expressing her dissatisfaction.
Yes, she was very dissatisfied with CAA!
Since signing the contract with them, things hadn’t developed at all as Sophie Marceau had imagined. It had been over half a year now, and she still only had one genuine Hollywood film, and *Braveheart* had fallen far short of expectations. It was unlikely to carry her dream and ambition of breaking into the global film scene. Newest update provıded by 𝔫𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩⚫𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢⚫𝔫𝔢𝔱
To North America, she was still an unfamiliar actress.
If that were all, she might have been able to accept it. After all, there are too many factors that determine the success or failure of a film. This only meant she had poor judgment, choosing a failed project led by the washed-up Mel Gibson. But the real problem was that, for reasons she couldn’t fathom, CAA didn’t seem to value her. Sophie Marceau could feel how coldly she had been treated at CAA. The few audition opportunities she had over the past months hadn’t even come from CAA’s efforts or recommendations.
Without sufficient support, the challenges she faced as a non-English-speaking actress were evident. If she hadn’t felt so isolated and still harbored some hope for CAA, Sophie Marceau might have considered switching agencies.
At times, she even fantasized: If she hadn’t firmly rejected that director, who was a hundred times more successful than Mel Gibson, would she have had a role in *Chicago*, the film making waves right now?
A mocking smile tugged at Sophie Marceau’s lips. Mel Gibson had the audacity to make such outrageous demands. Did he really think of her as a plaything? Or had CAA truly come to believe they owned their stars?
"Sophie, have you made your decision?"
Hearing Mel Gibson’s question at that moment, the mockery on Sophie Marceau’s face deepened. "Don’t you think this is too much? I’d be giving up a lot, and I’d have to endure a lot..."
Her face tightened as she asked the one question that was most on her mind. "What do I get out of this?"
Sophie Marceau was not someone who would make sacrifices without a reward.
It seemed that Mel Gibson had been waiting for her to ask this question. He picked up his wine glass and, in a manner uncharacteristic of him, took a slow sip before speaking calmly, "Bernard Rose is preparing a new film, and CAA will recommend you for the lead role. What the French deny you, CAA can help you gain recognition for. Martin will personally secure you a nomination for Best Supporting Actress at the Oscars. If you perform well in Bernard Rose’s new film, he’ll push for a nomination for Best Actress. Additionally, CAA will plan your career according to the standards of an A-list star."
As her tense expression gradually relaxed, the mockery on Sophie Marceau’s face was replaced by thoughtful consideration.
"Sophie, I know what you’re worried about," Mel Gibson stood up, his tall figure casting a shadow over Sophie Marceau. "At that time, you’ll be the victim. Duke Rosenberg’s reputation in this area has always been poor. You’ll garner widespread sympathy. With the right guidance of public opinion, you’ll present a highly positive image across North America. Don’t forget, CAA has the power to influence the direction of entertainment media."
"When you reach the pinnacle of Hollywood as one of its top actresses, like Elizabeth Taylor, Audrey Hepburn, or Katharine Hepburn before you, everyone will only envy and admire you. Who will care about your past?"
The sense of control that Mel Gibson had long lost, ever since Duke Rosenberg forcibly interrupted the filming of *Braveheart*, finally returned. "Don’t underestimate the power of sympathy. If it happens during awards season, it could very well determine the outcome of major awards!"
Sophie Marceau seemed to be analyzing Mel Gibson’s words, remaining silent for a full five minutes before speaking again. "I need time to think."
"Of course," Mel Gibson smiled.
These actresses were all masters of saying one thing and meaning another. Clearly already enticed by fame and fortune, they still felt the need to put on a saintly front.
Without lingering any longer, Sophie Marceau left the private club, stepping into the afternoon sunlight as she entered the parking lot and got into her car. However, she didn’t start the engine right away. Instead, she sat quietly in the driver’s seat, deep in thought.
The things Mel Gibson had mentioned wouldn’t be considered a big deal in European cinema or to a French woman like her. She’d even dared to pull off her top on the Cannes red carpet to attract attention. The real question was, how trustworthy were CAA and Mel Gibson?
Sophie Marceau, though bold and uninhibited, was no fool. When she first signed with CAA, they had promised her a series of favorable terms. But how many of those promises had been fulfilled? She was still the unknown Sophie Marceau in North America. No matter how good the promises sounded, they didn’t compare to the tangible benefits.
There was another thing—when she was still in Europe, she had heard many rumors about how powerful CAA was in Hollywood. But what about reality? They had been beaten by a mere twenty-five-year-old director and had no real way to handle him, resorting to underhanded tactics instead.
CAA wasn’t nearly as powerful as she’d been led to believe...
Of course, Sophie Marceau wasn’t going to ignore the fact that CAA was still Hollywood’s top talent agency. If they could truly deliver on the promises Mel Gibson had made, the benefits of this deal would far outweigh the risks.
Caught between greed and caution, the renowned European actress weighed her options, trying to find a way to have it both ways.
Maybe... Sophie Marceau’s eyes narrowed into thin slits. Perhaps she could test CAA’s sincerity while also getting something out of Duke Rosenberg?
No one was truly foolish in this business. At a time , Sophie Marceau’s first thought was how to ensure her own best interests.
The afternoon sun cast its rays onto the sea, filtering through the gaps between the palm leaves and creating speckled patterns of light in the garden. Sitting at a small table under one of the palms, Duke slammed his hand down on the table. He’d used a bit too much force, and the laptop in front of him wobbled slightly. He quickly reached out to steady it.
Frustrated, Duke pushed the laptop aside and turned to the assistant sitting across from him. "Tina, just get me a typewriter. I’ve had enough of Microsoft and Bill Gates."
From the swing in the garden, a girl just over five feet tall jumped down. She flipped her blonde ponytail behind her head and ran over quickly. She took the typewriter from Tina Fey and carefully placed it in front of Duke on the table.
"Duke..." the girl blinked and leaned in close.
"Scarlett!" Duke tapped her on the forehead and scolded sternly, "I’m working. Don’t be mischievous."
"Fine, I’ll go play by myself then."
Due to her age and the long time since they had last seen each other, Scarlett Johansson had grown distant from Duke. She walked away on her own and retrieved the Sony DV camera from the tripod, fiddling with it for a while before filming the empty garden. The novelty of the new toy completely captured her attention, and she ran around excitedly. However, DV cameras were still quite heavy in those days, and she soon put it back on the tripod and began playing with it in front of the lens instead.
The DV camera Nancy had sent over was something Duke had played with a few times too. Of course, it wasn’t to film anything like a videotape but just out of curiosity. Though he wasn’t particularly fond of a certain island nation, he couldn’t deny that most of the cameras used in the film industry were manufactured by companies from there. Sony and Nikon were among the best.
Especially the former, it is said that they are cooperating with James Cameron to develop a set of high-speed capture and deep-sea pressure-resistant shooting equipment specifically for him.
Looking at Scarlett playing, it may be because she is getting older. She is obviously quieter than before. Moreover, after her mother moved to New York, she seems to have lost her backer and no longer makes undue demands.
Lowering his head and looking back at the typewriter, Duke quickly lowered his fingers and sorted out the script that had been filtered in his mind several times. Tolkien’s masterpiece is too long, and the length of the movie is relatively limited. The choices when adapting are extremely important. He will complete the main plot of the script himself.
Fortunately, the preliminary preparations for "Chicago" are very long. The focus at this stage is the choreography rehearsal. All he can do in this regard is to check. Getting involved in the specific work will only add chaos. He has relatively more free time, especially On weekends, if I don’t go out, I have a lot of time to write scripts.
Duke and Tina Fey split up to work, and Scarlett Johansson played alone until sunset.
After dinner, Duke found a driver and prepared to take Scarlett Johansson home.
The little girl clasped her hands behind her back, not wanting to leave, "Duke, can I stay here?"
"Your mother just called Tina." Duke shook his head, "You have to go home."
Scarlett Johansson looked at Duke, who didn’t focus on her at all, bit her lower lip hard, and followed Tina Fey out of the villa.
After packing up the DV camera, Duke carried it upstairs and went directly to the bedroom. He placed the camera in the cupboard between the door and the bathroom, preparing to go to bed early. He had to rush to Warner Studios early tomorrow morning.
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