Grant was the first to step out, followed closely by a group of well-dressed men and women, chatting and laughing. It was clear they were people of influence and success.

  I signaled to Berg to stay sharp, then rose from my seat and walked over.

  “We’re not interrupting, are we?” Grant grasped my hand, giving it a firm shake.

  “Not at all. We just got here,” I replied with a smile, glancing at the group behind him.

  There were about twenty people, most of them in their forties or fifties. Among them were a few women, likely their wives or daughters.

  “Good, good. I was worried we’d disrupt your shoot. Come, let me introduce you to the members of the committee.” Grant pulled me toward the group.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce Mr. André Corleone, a distinguished graduate of the Vitagraph Film Academy and the first beneficiary of our Rainbow Project,” Grant announced, clapping me on the shoulder.

  I put on a polite smile and nodded to the assembled group.

  “Vitagraph Film Academy? You mean that rundown school that looks like a junkyard? Ha! And you expect someone from there to make a movie?” A woman’s voice rang out from the crowd.

  I frowned and scanned the group, spotting a young woman—no, a girl—around twenty years old, covering her mouth as she laughed mockingly.

  Among this group of dignified individuals, she stood out the most. While the others dressed formally, she wore a fiery red dress, her arms clad in long red leather gloves that reached her elbows. A pair of gleaming red high heels completed the look. Her lips were painted a bold crimson, her hair dyed to match—she was a walking flame, a red-hot chili pepper personified.

  She wasn’t just beautiful; she was downright seductive. Every inch of her body exuded a perfect, almost dangerous allure. Her eyes, smoldering with a teasing intensity, locked onto me as if I were nothing more than a beggar on the street.

  “Oh, so that’s who he is? I thought we were meeting someone important. Turns out he’s just some country bumpkin. Had I known, I wouldn’t have come. A night at the theater or a drive through the city would’ve been far more entertaining. Don’t you think so, Heidi?” A slick-haired man in a white suit immediately chimed in, flashing a fawning smile at the woman in red.

  I felt my temper flare, but before I could respond, Grant quickly pulled me aside and began introducing the committee members.

  “This is Mr. Malskolov. We rarely get the chance to see him, but he happened to be in town for business at City Hall and decided to drop by. André, you’re in luck,” Grant said with a grin, gesturing toward a tall man in his fifties.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Malskolov?! The head of MGM?! My God!

  I stared at the unassuming older man before me and quickly extended my hand. A single hair from his leg carried more weight in Hollywood than I did. If I could build a rapport with him, my future in the industry would be limitless.

  “Mr. Malskolov, it’s an absolute honor to meet you. I’ve long admired your work,” I said, making sure my expression conveyed genuine admiration.

  Malskolov studied me for a moment before nodding approvingly. “Grant speaks highly of you, so I thought I’d stop by. You’re younger than I expected. Good, good. I like ambitious young men.”

  I had imagined meeting Malskolov countless times, picturing what the legendary MGM mogul would be like. In person, he looked quite ordinary—except for one thing. The air of authority around him was undeniable. Unlike the restless energy of younger men, his presence carried the weight of experience, refined and formidable.

  “This is Mr. William Fox of Fox Film Corporation. André, his company has a keen eye for new talent. If you’re interested in working with him, I’d be happy to make an introduction.”

  William Fox—the founder of Fox Film, a titan of Hollywood in the 1930s and 1940s. In 1935, he merged his company with Schenck’s Twentieth Century Pictures, creating the legendary 20th Century Fox.

  Grant wasn’t exaggerating. This man had shaped Hollywood.

  “If Grant says so, I won’t argue. If you ever want to work for me, my doors are open,” Fox said. He was slightly shorter than Malskolov, balding, but his sharp gaze was as keen as ever.

  I hadn’t expected the film board to be filled with Hollywood’s biggest power players. Caught between excitement and nerves, I quickly exchanged greetings with each of them.

  Then Grant led me to the third man, and I froze.

  I had seen his photo before.

  Jack Warner—one of the pillars of Warner Bros.

  “You two know each other?” Grant asked, noticing my reaction.

  “I know Mr. Warner,” I said slowly. “In fact, my father’s theater is under Warner Bros.’ distribution network. But come this July, they’re taking it back.”

  A hush fell over the group.

  Everyone in Hollywood knew about Warner Bros.’ aggressive consolidation of their theaters. It was no secret that they often undercut the very theater owners who had worked tirelessly for them. By bringing it up in front of everyone, I had put Jack Warner in an uncomfortable spot.

  Jack Warner was known as the most prideful of the Warner brothers. Once, when a lover called him cheap, he spent five million dollars on an extravagant banquet just to prove he didn’t care about money.

  “Oh? So, Mr. Corleone has ties to Warner Bros.,” Grant interjected smoothly, trying to defuse the tension.

  Jack Warner forced a smile. He was in his early thirties, brimming with confidence and ambition. He extended his hand. “Now that you mention it, I do recall a Warner Bros. theater in Burbank owned by a Mr. Hall Corleone. You wouldn’t happen to be his son, would you?”

  “I am,” I replied with a polite smile.

  “Ah, well then! That makes you one of us, doesn’t it? Young man, when you finish this film, come work for Warner Bros. I promise you won’t regret it.” Jack Warner’s sudden warmth made it seem like we were old friends. The people around us chuckled in agreement.

  “I truly appreciate the offer, Mr. Warner,” I said, my tone neutral. “However, I recently started my own production company. I hope Warner Bros. will support us in the future.”

  No matter how friendly he acted, I couldn’t forget how they had taken my father’s theater. My words were courteous, but there was an unmistakable edge to them.

  “Of course, of course,” Warner said, though his smile had tightened slightly.

  Grant quickly steered me through the rest of the introductions. Most of them were executives from major studios, along with a handful of directors, screenwriters, and actors.

  After making the rounds, we finally stopped in front of the red-clad woman who had mocked me earlier.