The little girl wore a pink dress with lace trim, pink round-toe leather boots, and even her platinum blonde curls were tied with a big pink bow. She looked adorable and beautiful, like a little princess straight out of a fairy tale.
"You're Ryan Jenkins, right?" the girl asked first, then proudly lifted her chin. "I need to talk to you."
Ryan clenched his fingers, feeling an urge to stomp the floor. Even though the other party was still young, she already had six-tenths of her future appearance, and with that signature platinum blonde hair and the all-pink outfit—if he still couldn't recognize her as Paris Hilton, he might as well go slam his head into a wall.
Was he somehow destined to cross paths with these fallen girls? First Lindsay Lohan, now Paris Hilton. He wouldn't be surprised if Britney Spears jumped out in front of him one day too.
"And you are?" Ryan asked calmly. After all, he'd met too many celebrities in this life to be easily fazed.
"I'm Paris Hilton. It's okay if you don't know me. My family owns this hotel," the little girl said smugly.
"Miss Hilton, what can I help you with?" Ryan replied, still with that indifferent tone.
Paris Hilton wrinkled her nose, clearly dissatisfied with his attitude. "I really love the Harry Potter series. Can you save that manuscript for me? I'll buy it once I save enough money. Also, when will the next Harry Potter book be published? If you finish writing it, can I read it first?"
The corner of Ryan's mouth twitched. Miss, we're not even close. Don't you think you're being a bit unreasonable with that request?
"Sorry, I have to go now," Ryan said flatly and walked around her, trying to leave.
"Hey! Did you hear what I said?"
To his surprise, she wouldn't give up and grabbed his arm.
Ryan frowned and had to stop. Paris Hilton was just a spoiled little girl now—no need to stoop to her level.
"Ryan~ What are you doing here? The auction's over," Nicole Kidman had come looking for him, probably because he hadn't returned for a while.
"Nothing. Let's go," Ryan quickly circled to the other side and used Nicole's body to block Paris Hilton.
"Let's go," Nicole said, seemingly understanding the situation, and took the boy's hand, walking away quickly.
Although the auction had just ended, most people hadn't left yet. This was a great networking opportunity. Many people were still mingling, and some men and women had gone into the lounge rooms on either side of the banquet hall. Whether it was for business, connections, or more inappropriate activities—no one could really say.
With Nicole in tow, Ryan walked along the wall toward their table. As they passed the first lounge room, they encountered Gerald and a Black woman.
"Mr. Gerald, Miss Houston. Hello," Ryan and Nicole offered a simple greeting—after all, they were only acquaintances—and kept walking. Just then, they passed another lounge with a door that wasn't fully closed. From inside, they could hear a television, playing a segment about major events that happened on March 30 in previous years.
"Do you really think Ryan Jenkins is some kind of super genius? Let me tell you the truth: I met him and Nicole Kidman back in 1989. He's just a spoiled kid pampered by Nicole. All that talent the media talks about? Pure hype."
Ryan hadn't intended to eavesdrop, but with the door ajar, the words naturally reached both his and Nicole's ears. More importantly, the voice sounded familiar.
"But almost no one in Hollywood questions him now?" another voice seemed to disagree.
"You really think a ten-year-old could write something like Sleepless in Seattle? I'll bet my Bentley that he absolutely didn't..."
Feeling Nicole's grip tighten, Ryan quickly held her hand. Her face had turned to ice—clearly furious. He had no doubt that if she went in there, she'd slap the speaker both ways across the face.
"Let it go, Nicole." Ryan gently shook his head and tried to lead her away...
"Yes, Ryan Jenkins and Nicole Kidman can't afford to support a writing team. But don't forget—she's a sexy bombshell. Even in Hollywood, she's one of the most beautiful. Maybe those ghostwriters really liked her. She could've traded her body to get those scripts for Ryan. With a body like that, she could easily support two writing teams."
The voice inside grew louder, as if they wanted the whole banquet hall to hear. People passing by in the hallway had already heard and were now casting strange glances at Ryan and Nicole.
"So don't talk to me about some genius. Let's see if he's still a 'genius' once Nicole Kidman gets old and loses her looks..."
Ryan's fists clenched tighter. If they were just slandering him, he could let it go. But they were defaming the person he cared about most. From the half-open door, he could tell this was deliberate—meant to be heard outside and spread throughout Hollywood. The malicious intent was obvious.
"Ryan..." Nicole looked at him with concern. She knew him well and could see he was on the verge of exploding, but it was too late to say anything now.
Ryan released her hand, strode up to the lounge door, and kicked it hard. The loud BANG echoed throughout the banquet hall.
"Which mangy dog got loose and came in here biting people?" Ryan stormed in, sharp words flying like daggers.
"Uh..."
The people inside clearly hadn't expected that the person they were slandering would show up.
Ryan didn't expect it either. The voice he'd heard—it really was someone he knew. The speaker was none other than Tom Cruise!
"Mr. Cruise, is this the conduct of a major star? Ha—maybe all of America should hear how you slander a child and a lady. Let them see the ugly face hidden beneath that handsome exterior!"
Ryan had clearly lost it. He didn't care what the occasion was—his sharp tongue was fully unleashed.
Nicole Kidman rushed in after him. Seeing the confrontation between the young boy and the grown man, she instantly understood. While worrying for Ryan, she also felt a wave of relief.
Thank goodness, back when she'd started developing feelings for Tom Cruise, she had cut it off because of Ryan's objections. Otherwise, if she had dated or even married such a man—one who was so ugly beneath the surface—the outcome would've been disastrous.
Because of that loud bang, not just Nicole, but more people came rushing in. Ryan glanced around and realized things were escalating. Not only were there Hollywood stars, but also big names like Gerald, Ron Meyer, Michael Eisner—film industry powerhouses.
More alarmingly, members of the press were among them—some with cameras on their shoulders.
Someone who understood the situation explained it quickly to the crowd. People started looking at Ryan and Nicole with mixed expressions, many showing sympathy.
Tom Cruise might not be able to take on the seven major studios, but against Ryan Jenkins and Nicole Kidman, he had the upper hand. Power isn't just talk.
The crowd grew, and Tom Cruise's stunned expression quickly morphed. Looking at the aggressive boy, he recalled all those pranks Ryan had pulled, and that Australian woman who didn't know her place. Things had reached this point—he couldn't back down without losing face.
"Ryan, we've known each other for two years now, right? You think I don't know what kind of person you are? Are you saying I wasn't telling the truth just now?"
"Oh really? Mr. Cruise, care to repeat what you just said?" Ryan cast a quick glance at the camera.
Tom Cruise, arrogant as he was, wasn't stupid. If he repeated his slander of Nicole Kidman in front of the cameras, his reputation would be ruined.
Still, he wasn't going to miss this chance to strike. "Why not? A ten-year-old writing Sleepless in Seattle? Impossible! And I doubt you wrote any of those scripts yourself!"
Still bitter about that pepper spray incident, huh? Ryan thought.
In a split second, Tom Cruise made a plan. Even if Ryan really did write those scripts—so what? As long as things followed his script, he'd destroy Ryan Jenkins's reputation today. Maybe even ruin him completely.
"Too bad for you—they are my works!" Ryan snapped back with biting sarcasm.
"Really?"
Tom Cruise suddenly grinned. "Then let's ask everyone here—how many of them really believe you wrote them?"
Ryan didn't have to look to know that doubt was probably written all over their faces. When someone influential casts public suspicion on you, it's hard to convince people otherwise—especially when you're a kid.
"Ryan, aren't people calling you a genius? Then let's see just how much of a genius you really are." Tom Cruise sneered. "Write a script for us right now..."
"And what if I do write one?" Ryan grinned. You just walked yourself into a trap.