In the heart of Los Angeles, in a nondescript hotel, the stage was set for an unexpected encounter.
Judy, a determined figure, swung open the door to a room and ushered a weary woman up the stairs. Simultaneously, the door opposite swung ajar, revealing a curious onlooker.
"Who's this?" The woman from the adjacent room inquired, her surprise evident.
Judy introduced the two with a gesture, saying, "This is Emma O'Connor, Angie. She's another victim like you."
Angela Oye, taking the initiative, approached Emma, wrapping her in a comforting embrace. Gently lowering her head, Angela spoke with determination, "Sisters, this isn't our shame, but his."
Emma remained silent, her nod a testament to her agreement.
Judy had orchestrated their cohabitation with a cunning purpose – to ignite a common fire of resentment. Addressing Angela, he said, "Angela, Emma is under your wing for now. I'll return to work on the manuscript, and we'll act sooner rather than later."
Angela assured, "Rest assured, I'll take good care of Emma."
Together, they entered the room Judy had just unlocked, leaving Judy with a few parting instructions. He descended the stairs and exited the hotel, slipping into a parked Ford sedan.
Behind the wheel sat Bruce, who inquired, "Is everything set?"
Judy lowered the visor to check his appearance in the mirror before replying, "With Angela's temperament, those two will undoubtedly become fast neighbors. This will stoke Emma's fighting spirit further. She's a bit soft, and convincing her won't be easy."
Bruce mused, "Achieving the Pulitzer Prize was never meant to be easy."
Judy grinned mischievously, turning to face Bruce. "The Pulitzer Prize is indeed tempting, but Bruce, you're even more alluring."
Bruce chuckled helplessly. "I'm discussing business with you."
Judy pressed, "I am talking business. I'm staking my future and my entire career on this report. Don't you think a little reward is in order?"
Bruce glanced at Jodi, appreciating his attractive features, but he knew looks weren't everything.
Judy's flat figure didn't quite align with Bruce's preferences. He sighed, "Maybe gain a bit of weight?"
Judy appeared perplexed, retorting, "Many women envy my figure."
Bruce couldn't believe his ears, nearly banging his head on the steering wheel. "Good figure?"
Judy gripped the gear handle playfully, and with a wink, said, "Come on, join me tonight, and I'll ensure you feel better before you become cannon fodder."
Bruce chose not to respond, starting the car and pulling away from the scene. Soon, they arrived at a cozy single-family house, and Judy playfully dragged Bruce inside.
Like a fearless warrior on the verge of battle, Bruce entered Judy's room.
...
Meanwhile, in the opulent Beverly Hills Hilton Hotel, Stewart Townsend, who had recently moved out of Charlize's residence, found temporary refuge. He had rented a warehouse to store his belongings but was left with limited funds. His supplementary credit card, once linked to Charlize Theron, had been disabled. Consequently, he could only afford a standard room, far removed from the executive suites he had grown accustomed to.
The cramped quarters and unassuming decor left Stewart, accustomed to a life of luxury, deeply uncomfortable.
As he brooded in silence, Stewart couldn't help but curse inwardly, "This woman is utterly heartless! She cheated on me with Martin Davis, and yet she's relying on me to foot the breakup bill."
Contemplating the situation, Stewart realized there was no turning back for either of them. He pondered how to extract a substantial sum from Charlize.
And what about Martin Davis, who had betrayed his own fiancée? He couldn't let him off easily. But Martin wasn't someone to be trifled with. With no immediate plan in mind, Stewart decided to begin with Charlize.
Recalling Charlize's offer, he even considered the possibility of a paternity test with that other woman. If the child wasn't his, he could demand a substantial payment from Charlize.
Just as he mulled over these options, his cellphone suddenly rang.
Stewart answered, "This is Stewart Townsend. Who are you looking for?"
The voice on the other end replied, "I'm Toni Fairman's attorney, Mr. Townsend. Toni wishes to conduct a paternity test with you. If you agree, we can arrange it. If not, we will proceed with legal action."
Toni's case had attracted a renowned law firm, not just for the monetary gain but for the potential to set a national legal precedent.
Stewart protested, "Wait, this has nothing to do with me. Why should I take a paternity test?"
The lawyer remained direct, "Please provide your address. Ms. Theron confirmed your breakup. I'll send you a formal letter."
Stewart hung up, perplexed by the lawyer's tactics. The next morning, a letter arrived at his hotel room.
He read the letter carefully, recalling the events of the Oscar night and scouring the internet for information. Stewart's head swam with questions, "Could I really be a father out of nowhere?"
He couldn't help but wonder where this predicament had come from. The thought of Martin crossed his mind once more, and he couldn't shake the feeling that Martin and Charlize had been up to no good together.
...
Meanwhile, after receiving a phone invitation from Charlize Theron, Martin returned to her house after an extended absence. They had agreed to share a drink over the weekend.
The house retained its familiar charm, with the courtyard's flora and fauna unchanged. The only notable difference was the absence of the male owner.
Charlize, donning a casual black sweater, awaited Martin at the villa's entrance. As she spotted him with a bottle of wine in hand, she turned and ventured inside. "You brought wine too? Afraid I didn't have enough?"
Martin followed her inside, explaining, "It's not polite to arrive empty-handed." His eyes roved appreciatively over Charlize, who wore sky blue jeans, showcasing her long, shapely legs.
Tall and slender, Charlize had maintained her model-worthy physique. Even in the simplest attire, she exuded allure.
Leading Martin to a small hall at the back of the villa, Charlize had prepared an array of wines, including tequila, whiskey, and brandy. A fruit plate, complete with nuts to complement the beverages, adorned the table.
Charlize asked, "What kind of wine do you prefer?"
Martin reached for the wine bottle he'd brought, suggesting, "Why not give the one I brought a try?"
"Sure," Charlize agreed. She fetched two wine glasses and placed them on the table.
Martin uncorked the wine, poured a measure into each glass, and settled onto a single sofa opposite Charlize.
As Charlize kicked off her wedge slippers and curled her legs on the sofa, showcasing her graceful form, she raised her glass of wine and declared, "This one's to celebrating my return to singlehood."
Martin clinked his glass against hers, offering his congratulations, "Congratulations."
Charlize inquired, "Have you been observing Townsend for a while now?"
"A bit," Martin responded with apparent honesty. "But you know, it's not the kind of thing I'd usually comment on."
He couldn't help but think, "This guy is utterly shameless." Martin continued, "Honestly, there's no need for a paternity test press conference like this. It's partly to clear up misunderstandings and warn others about being reckless in the future. But it's also a reminder to someone."
Charlize felt skeptical but sensed an underlying message. The man across from her, like so many others, had fallen under her spell.
"Thank you," Charlize said as she downed her wine in one gulp.
Martin followed suit, finishing the wine in his glass.
Taking the initiative, Charlize poured more wine and remarked, "We've been neighbors for almost a year, and I've never invited you to my place. On the contrary, you've invited me several times, and Lily often brings me small gifts."
Martin explained, "It's not that I haven't wanted to come over; it's just inconvenient, and I didn't want people to get the wrong idea."
Charlize smiled warmly, "Well, I've chased that scoundrel away. You're welcome to visit anytime."
Martin chuckled, feigning surprise. "Am I more powerful than Hawking? In countless parallel universes, he couldn't score a date with Charlize Theron."
Having been in the modeling and entertainment world since the early '90s, Charlize had seen it all. "That's simply because I don't like him."
Two individuals oozing confidence in their looks locked eyes and shared a laugh.
Charlize had more to say, her words laced with alcohol. After several glasses, her expression remained unchanged as she continued, "Martin, this time, you've given me the determination to rid myself of that scoundrel."
Martin understood; Charlize had a lot on her mind and nodded in understanding.
While pouring more wine, Charlize continued, "I had actually suspected he was cheating on me a long time ago. But I held out hope that, given our many years together, he might change. Instead, I endured greater harm. I stayed in that relationship for nine years, the best years of my life wasted. No parties, no quality..."
She shook her head. "What I got was unfounded accusations. Just because we're friends and neighbors, he accused me of infidelity!"
Martin sympathized, saying, "He's a real scoundrel."
Charlize went on, "I spent nine years with him, compromising time and again, preserving his dignity publicly. Yet, all I received in return were false accusations and slander. The main reason I broke up with him was because of his slander."
Martin reached for his phone and asked, "What's his phone number? I'll set things straight. You shouldn't have to endure this injustice."
Charlize declined, shaking her head, "No need, really."
Martin didn't have Stuart Townsend's contact information.
Charlize looked into Martin's eyes and said, "I'll find my own way to dispel these false accusations, but I'll need your support."
Martin nodded, "I'm here to help."
A radiant smile graced Charlize's face, "My life has been too exhausting and oppressive in recent years, missing out on so many beautiful things. Starting today, I want to live differently."
Breaking free from the confines of her past, she realized that Hollywood had much to offer, and life could be colorful once more.