The opulent penthouse suite of Jackson Brown's high-rise abode was a scene of utter chaos and barely contained fury. The once-imposing figure of the entertainment mogul prowled the lavish confines like a caged lion, his eyes wild and his hands clenched into tight fists as he struggled to maintain his rapidly unraveling composure.
"This is all because of that insipid little tramp, Sophia!" Jackson bellowed, his voice reverberating off the marble floors and sleek walls that had once been a testament to his success and power.
His assistant, a meek and cowering figure, could only watch in trepidation as his employer's rage reached fever pitch, the fallout from the scandal threatening to consume them all in its fiery wake.
"S-sir, please, try to remain calm," the assistant stammered, his hands trembling as he clutched a sheaf of papers – the divorce papers that Jackson's wife had so unceremoniously served him with earlier that morning.
