The-Greatest-Showman

The 85th Academy Awards were, for Harvey Weinstein, not strictly a victory.

However, Jennifer Lawrence's rise to the top marked a historic moment, continuing the legacy of Natalie Portman and Renly Hall, becoming the focal point of attention. This was not just a triumph of the season but also a signal of Harvey's future success, as it suggested further collaboration with Jennifer in the years to come.

Additionally, Renly's loss to Daniel Day-Lewis in the Best Actor category, although a minor victory for Harvey, was seen as a small piece of revenge for the previous year. Jennifer's success officially established her as a new force in Weinstein Pictures, and in Harvey's eyes, this was the most significant blow to Renly.

Harvey felt elated, even more so than winning the Oscar for Best Picture. The frustrations and setbacks of the past year had finally found their release, and it felt liberating—a sensation he couldn't help but revel in.

"I remember, you and Jennifer used to be friends."

Harvey's voice was calm, but the smirk in his eyes betrayed his gloating, though he tried to suppress it.

Renly's smile barely flickered. "Thank you, but I think Bradley will be disappointed."

Harvey, confused, raised an eyebrow. He wasn't sure what Renly was referring to. Why mention Bradley Cooper? While Cooper and Jennifer had worked together on Silver Linings Playbook, it felt out of place in their current conversation.

Renly, however, remained composed. "I mean, I appreciate your vote of confidence, but I'm sure Bradley would have expected the same."

The confusion only deepened in Harvey's mind. He had been aiming for an insult, but Renly's response turned the situation on its head. Harvey was left sputtering for words, unable to process the subtle but sharp rebuke.

Renly's demeanor shifted slightly. "I didn't realize Mr. Weinstein took such an interest in my affairs. Considering how busy the awards season must be—focusing mainly on Jennifer's success, of course—yet somehow, you've managed to also keep track of my personal connections. I'm flattered."

He continued, his tone light yet dripping with sarcasm, "I'm sure many in Hollywood must envy your attention to detail, but I do hope Bradley doesn't grow jealous. After all, he and I had a good chat tonight, and it turns out we both voted for Daniel Day-Lewis. It was a pleasant surprise. Maybe in the future, Bradley and I will work together, and Mr. Weinstein will be the producer. That could be interesting."

Renly's words were a calculated series of jabs, wrapped in pleasant conversation, each one landing with the precision of a needle hidden in soft cotton. Harvey was left stifling his anger, feeling the sting but unsure how to respond. Renly had deftly controlled the exchange, leaving Harvey's retorts to fizzle out.

Harvey's fists clenched, but he managed to compose himself. "Of course, I've always kept an eye on your work. Everyone knows Renly Hall is the sexiest man in Hollywood right now," he said, trying to salvage the situation by pivoting to a compliment, though the underlying edge was clear.

"I've noticed your dedication to your craft—commendable, especially considering your youth. But remember, Hollywood can be a tough place, especially for young actors," Harvey added, his tone shifting to one of concern, as if he were offering sage advice. "It's a 'dye vat,' as they say—Hollywood loves the new and discards the old. One day, you could find yourself out of favor, just like the Coppolas."

By referencing the Coppola family's decline, Harvey was unmistakably insinuating that Renly might fall victim to the same fate. He was attempting to warn Renly, a thinly veiled threat meant to rattle him. After all, Coppola's forced work on The Godfather Part III due to financial woes and subsequent years of bad films was a cautionary tale.

Harvey's words carried an implied threat: Renly's career could easily take a wrong turn, and Harvey would be there, ready to take advantage if he stumbled. The implication was clear.

Renly, however, was unruffled. With a smile, he countered, "Thank you for your concern, Mr. Weinstein. But I'm aware that no actor is irreplaceable in Hollywood. And, likewise, no producer is, either."

The statement was a direct challenge to Harvey's position. Renly wasn't afraid to remind Harvey that the industry was driven by profit, and no one—whether an actor or a producer—was beyond replacement. Even someone as established as Jerry Bruckheimer had felt the sting of failure after a string of box-office flops. The once-untouchable producer had seen his influence wane after a disastrous period in the 2010s.

Renly's calm defiance was enough to rattle Harvey, who, despite his efforts to maintain control, felt the tension rising. His eyes flickered with barely contained fury, but before he could retaliate, a voice interrupted.

"I seem to hear my name."