The Threads of Loyalty
Ben retreated to his study, his mind evidently preoccupied and dialed the number.
"Juliana, this is Ben…" His tone is composed yet guarded.
"How are you, Ben?" Juliana's light laughter rang through the phone.
"Very well. What can I do for you?" Ben replied, his politeness tinged with caution.
"I saw the newspaper," she remarked.
"So what?"
"Perhaps you have other plans? If my guess is correct, I hope you won't forget the good times at Morgan," Juliana said with a sly undertone.
"Charlie Lee is in good health. Thank you for your concern," Ben said, frowning as he tried to decipher her words.
"Ben, people always have to think about themselves," Juliana continued, her voice soft but probing.
"I'm fine. That's it," Ben responded curtly, preparing to end the call.
"Wait…" Juliana interjected. "No one can truly understand the bond between you and Charlie Lee. Don't deceive yourself. If Morgan can offer you the best, trust me…"
Click.
Ben hung up abruptly. He turned to the window, staring at the soft glow of the morning light. His changing expression revealed the turmoil in his heart.
Joanna, sensing his unease, wrapped her arms around him from behind. Resting her face against his back, she whispered, "I love you, honey."
"I love you too, Joanna," Ben replied warmly.
"Life is so peaceful now. I love this kind of life, and I think… they will too," Joanna said, releasing him and gently pressing her hands to her abdomen. Her face glowed with motherly radiance.
"Honey, are you pregnant?" Ben asked, stunned.
Joanna nodded, chuckling softly.
A wave of joy overtook Ben. He instinctively wanted to pick her up but hesitated, worried about being too rough. His excitement left him fumbling for the right way to express his elation.
"I'm going to be a dad! I'm going to be a dad!" Ben exclaimed, his laughter brimming with joy.
Later, when Joanna drifted into a peaceful nap, Ben lay beside her, gazing at her sleeping form. His heart swelled with love and pride.
"Charlie Lee, you have to make it through," Ben thought to himself, his fleeting ambition crushed under the weight of loyalty. He realized that if Charlie Lee, the leader of their empire, faltered, his own position would become precarious.
Ben knew he would inevitably become a target—his every move scrutinized by allies and enemies alike. A stable life would shatter under the pressures of power struggles. What little greed had lingered in his heart was now extinguished. All he wished was for Charlie Lee's safe return.
The golden sunlight illuminated Hollywood as the city's bustling day began.
Ingrid Bergman, tasked with selecting the design scheme for the Star Theatre, sat wearily in her chair, her mind elsewhere.
"Miss Bergman, these are the final three options, and we all agree that number three is the best," Emo said, nudging her out of her daze.
"Ah?" Bergman blinked, momentarily lost. Remembering where she was, she forced herself to examine the designs.
After a moment, she nodded. "It seems we've made the same choice. Plan number three."
"Good. Let's contact the workers and get started tomorrow," Emo said decisively.
As the meeting concluded, Bergman slumped over her desk, exhaustion written all over her face.
"Emo, I want to go to Chicago," Bergman murmured.
"Bergman, the boss has many people taking care of him. What he needs most is someone who can carry out his plans—not someone washing clothes, delivering meals, and shedding tears," Emo replied bluntly.
"I know, but I'm worried. I miss him so much," Bergman said, her voice tinged with sadness.
"I think Charlie Lee misses you too," Emo replied flatly.
Bergman sighed, deciding to shift her focus. "Let's check out the Avenue of Stars."
The Avenue of Stars was still in its planning phase, with 4,000 workers set to arrive the next day for construction.
"Ah, isn't this Miss Ingrid Bergman? Judging by your expression, are you heading to a funeral?" came a sneering voice as they exited the building.
"Mr. Mayer, your words reek like the droppings of a stray dog. Please stay away from me. I may like dogs, but I despise their filth," Bergman retorted sharply.
Once a shy and soft-spoken woman, Bergman had built a strong inner fortress during her time in Chicago and Hollywood. Now, she wielded her wit like a weapon.
"You…" Louis Mayer glared at her, only to be met with an equally fierce glare.
"What are you looking at, you filthy dog?" Bergman shot back.
Mayer sneered. "Don't think you can do whatever you want in Hollywood with a yellow pig. This is my territory. One day, you'll be begging me for mercy."
As his car pulled away, Bergman clenched her fist. "Rot in hell, fat pig!"
Emo, standing beside her, said coldly, "The best way to defeat an enemy is to take what they cherish most and watch them crumble."
Bergman shivered slightly at Emo's chilling demeanor. Moments later, Emo approached a group of onlookers.
"Those who want to leave their testimony will be paid $200 in cash," Emo declared, holding a wad of money.
Curious, Bergman watched as Emo calmly orchestrated her plan. She secured testimonies from witnesses and even obtained an official statement from a traffic officer, ensuring that Mayer's racial slurs and misconduct would not go unnoticed.
"It's your turn, Miss Bergman," Emo said, a hint of mischief in her smile.
Bergman was taken aback. "What do you mean?"
They arrived at the Royce Hotel, where Douglas Van Punk, a highly influential Hollywood actor, was enjoying a drink by the window.
"What am I supposed to do?" Bergman asked hesitantly.
"Douglas Van Punk is adored by the Actors Guild and the public, but he's deeply connected to Mayer. We need to sever that bond," Emo explained.
"And how does that involve me?"
"Do you know why Mayer opposed Douglas' relationship with Joan Crawford?" Emo asked, her expression inscrutable.
"Because Joan Crawford was close to Mayer?" Bergman guessed.
"Exactly. Their relationship was… intimate. And now, we can use that to drive a wedge between Douglas and Mayer," Emo said, her voice firm and calculating.
As Bergman absorbed Emo's plan, she couldn't help but feel a mix of admiration and fear for the woman's cunning.
"Emo is terrifying," Bergman thought, but she knew one thing for certain—loyalty and ambition were the driving forces in Hollywood's treacherous landscape.