Made In Hollywood

Hearing Duke's unhesitating refusal, Mel Gibson's hands, which were hanging by his sides, instantly clenched into fists. He exerted all his effort to control himself.

Looking at Mel Gibson, Duke realized that the other party was just apologizing for the sake of apologizing.

"I will not accept your apology right now."

Seeing the people around them looking on in surprise or understanding, Duke deliberately said, "You haven't just hurt me; you've harmed a vast community. You have insulted my ethnicity. Mr. Gibson, the person you should be apologizing to is not me."

Using others to elevate his own stature was something Duke was skilled at in the past, and now it was coming out without any ambiguity.

His bloodline and ethnicity were given to him by his mother. Although he didn't necessarily recognize them, it would be foolish not to leverage that natural advantage.

"Duke..."

Mel Gibson tried to speak again but was directly interrupted by Duke. "I told you, Mr. Gibson, the person you need to apologize to is not me."

He stood up and extended his hand to Catherine Zeta-Jones. "Kate, let's go."

"Sure."

Catherine Zeta-Jones cooperatively placed her hand in the crook of Duke's arm, linking up with him as they walked toward the exit of the banquet hall. She deliberately glanced at the stunned Mel Gibson, her amber eyes filled with disdain.

A shameful loser!

With a cold huff in her heart, Zeta-Jones turned back and immediately switched to her most charming expression, her bright, sparkling eyes rivaling the chandelier above.

In the banquet hall, the rest of the "Saving Private Ryan" crew was gradually dispersing. Ben Watts, Zack Snyder, and others were preparing to head upstairs with their respective companions, while those who had brought their girlfriends or wives were ready to go home, no one glancing at Mel Gibson again.

Over at the "Braveheart" crew, there weren't many attendees at the party, but there were still a few.

"We've completely lost face!"

The guy who won Best Costume Design complained to the deputy director, "I will never work with him again."

The deputy director scoffed, saying, "Only a fool would work with Mel Gibson again!"

After receiving a notification from her assistant, Tina Brown hurriedly walked out from a lounge. She didn't even need to search; just by following everyone's disdainful glances, she found Mel Gibson standing tall but slightly dejected.

"He disrupted our party?"

Seeing that all the important guests from "Saving Private Ryan" had vanished, Tina Brown couldn't help but frown as she walked over.

"Mr. Gibson," she said softly as she stood in front of Mel Gibson, "I hope you will refrain from appearing at any parties held by Vanity Fair in the future."

After saying this, she turned and walked away coldly, as if Mel Gibson had never existed.

"Where are you going, Kate?"

Walking out of the banquet hall, Duke tentatively asked. "Do you need me to have the driver take you back?"

Zeta-Jones hesitated a bit, her eyes flickering. She smiled sweetly at Duke, "You decide."

"You are very understanding."

Raising his free hand, Duke pinched Zeta-Jones's chin. "Darling, I'm starting to like you a bit."

"Actually..." Zeta-Jones leaned her half body against Duke's arm, "I've already fallen for you."

Showing a bright smile, Duke dialed a phone number, and soon they would reach a presidential suite. He had no intention of taking Zeta-Jones home but instead took the elevator to the upper floors of the hotel.

A little over ten minutes later, the spacious bedroom of the suite had turned into a battlefield of intense activity. Duke was surprised to find that Zeta-Jones was not only proactive but also used various techniques to please him. Her seemingly voluptuous body could even perform some dance-like high-difficulty moves, stimulating both his senses and psyche, providing him with an enjoyment that could only be described as exhilarating.

She was an almost perfect bed partner.

After everything quieted down, Duke gave Catherine Zeta-Jones this evaluation.

The two of them sat close together on a long couch, wrapped in the same thick blanket, feeling the cool breeze blowing in from the balcony while overlooking the night view of Los Angeles.

"Kate, I've found that I like you more and more."

Duke's hand had been roaming over Zeta-Jones's soft curves. "Why didn't I realize how charming you are before?"

"Because your focus was only on work."

Holding a large bottle of wine, Zeta-Jones didn't bother with a glass and took a big swig directly from the bottle. She then passed the bottle to Duke, who also took a sip. The slightly spicy wine liquid irritated his throat, causing him to cough lightly.

Just as he stopped coughing, Zeta-Jones kissed him, pouring a mouthful of warm wine into his mouth.

"Does this feel better?"

She wiped the wine running down her mouth with her hand, blinking at him, then set the wine bottle down, loosening the blanket around her and pressing her body against Duke, gently swaying to release her passion.

Lightly kissing his forehead, Duke wrapped his arms around Zeta-Jones, relishing the sensual and enchanting body in his embrace.

"How about… we change places?" Zeta-Jones observed Duke's expression and, seeing his confusion, tentatively asked, "Shall we go to your place?"

What an ambitious woman, isn't she? Duke gently shook his head and reminded her, "Have you forgotten, Kate? We need to cooperate with Pani's publicity plan."

Zeta-Jones buried her face in Duke's chest, her expression changing briefly before returning to normal. She realized she had been too eager.

"It was just a suggestion." As she playfully nibbled at his firm muscles, she continued, "I wanted to see what it feels like by the sea."

Before Duke could respond, Zeta-Jones's head lowered more and soon disappeared under the thick blanket.

The Oscars had ended, but the media feast was far from over. Starting the next morning, a wave of voices supporting Duke's cause appeared in many entertainment sections of the media, with many outlets directly accusing the Academy of discriminating against young directors and stealing the Best Director award that should have belonged to Duke.

The Academy did not respond, and Duke couldn't be bothered. This was an annual routine for the media, and very few people in the industry actually cared.

Not to mention, there were even media outlets claiming that "Saving Private Ryan" should not have won Best Picture, advocating for Tim Robbins' "The Shawshank Redemption."

This also highlighted that the media had no integrity; as long as they could attract attention, they wouldn't care who they were supporting or which movie.

Take last year as an example—most media were sympathetic toward "The Shawshank Redemption," but if a private survey were conducted, how many in the media actually believed "The Shawshank Redemption" should have won Best Picture over "Forrest Gump"?

The so-called Oscar controversies stirred up by the media were just that—controversies—and it was hard to have any substantive effect on the Academy.

For instance, the media had been urging the Academy to reform and select more widely appealing films, but what was the actual outcome? The Academy's reforms turned out to be empty promises, and after twenty years, the average age of Academy members, i.e., Oscar judges, had not only failed to decrease but had actually increased, with selected films becoming even more niche, conservative, and politicized. Even as the viewership of the Oscars sharply declined and their influence diminished, there were no substantial reform measures taken.

Ultimately, the Academy was still dominated by conservatives.

This was a normal situation; as anyone aged, they tended to become more conservative.

After leaving the Hilton Hotel and dropping Catherine Zeta-Jones back at her temporary residence in North Hollywood, Duke returned to his home in Malibu. Upon entering the villa, he noticed a glass cabinet had been added to the living room. The Best Original Screenplay Oscar he had received was now displayed prominently in the cabinet, surrounded by a collection of other trophies.

Although he hadn't attended many award ceremonies, Duke had amassed a variety of awards over the years, such as the Saturn Award and the MTV Movie Awards.

"The trophies are arranged by me."

Madam Leah walked in from the lounge, pointing at the glass cabinet. "How does it feel?"

"Mom, your taste has always been the best." Duke walked up to the cabinet, looked at it, and joked, "Maybe one day my trophies will fill this cabinet."

"Having confidence is a good thing."

Taking the coffee pot from the butler, Leah sat down on the couch. "Is it the little golden man?"

"I think the Saturn Award might be more likely, Mom."

Duke walked over to sit across from his mother and took a sip of the poured coffee. "In my plans, realistic themes are just a small portion."

Leah changed the subject. "I'm planning to return to New York in the afternoon. Duke, you will soon be celebrating your twenty-sixth birthday. My lawyer will come over next month to handle the trust transfer for Victoria's Secret shares. If you're not in Los Angeles, remember to notify the lawyer in advance."

Duke thought about his schedule. "I shouldn't be leaving; 'Chicago' is set to start filming at the beginning of next month."

"Duke, you are about to turn twenty-six."

After patting Duke on the shoulder, Leah walked towards the stairs "You are successful in your career now, and you are mature and rational. I am very pleased and proud of you. Keep moving forward and don't lose your way."

Duke was about to turn twenty-six again. He sighed softly, feeling a deeper sense of emotion welling up inside him. He walked to the French window and gazed out at the vast sea. Dreams were like the Pacific Ocean before him—vast and boundless. Only through relentless effort could the wings of his dreams soar over the waters.

I have my own goals. I will define my direction, and no matter how great the temptations or setbacks may be, I will press on steadfastly!