Time slipped into May. The number of theaters showing Sleepless in Seattle had dropped from over a thousand to fewer than eight hundred, but its North American box office had already reached $110 million. Even though it didn't achieve the frenzy of The Sixth Sense or Home Alone, it was still quite a rare accomplishment.
Privately in Hollywood, a saying began to spread: Want your movie to be a box office hit? It's simple—get Ryan Jenkins to write a script, draw some storyboard concept sketches, and if he can recommend a few suitable actors, even better.
The box office success of Sleepless in Seattle completely solidified Nicole's position as an A-list actress. Especially in the film, her portrayal of an icy elegance laced with warmth captivated countless people and made her a darling of advertisers.
Compared to Nicole Kidman, Ryan was even more famous and more prone to stirring things up. The chaos surrounding him never seemed to stop. Pi Kingsley was gradually finding it harder to keep up with everything.
However, she had already prepared for this. In consultation with Ryan and Nicole, she began assembling a powerful behind-the-scenes team for them.
Ryan understood deeply the importance of a solid team, especially in the era of mass entertainment. The capabilities and responsiveness of this team would be of immense help to both his and Nicole's future.
By now, the gossip about him and Tom Cruise had gradually cooled down, but the media coverage around him was still rampant. Some tabloids had even started digging into his origins. No fewer than five or six couples, for some unknown reason, were loudly claiming he was their long-lost child.
In fact, such claims had started as early as last year, but since April, they had become more intense. He suspected someone might be orchestrating it all from behind the scenes.
He had always made great efforts to get along with people. Anyone in the industry who had worked with him—even if they didn't like him—couldn't say they hated him. Of course, there was one exception.
The ringing of the school bell brought Ryan out of his wandering thoughts. He gathered the manuscript from his desk, went to his locker, retrieved his backpack, and headed toward the school gate. By now, he had truly become a lone wolf at school.
Before he could leave the gate, he heard a chaotic noise outside. He didn't care. He was long accustomed to being pursued, seeing them as nothing more than a swarm of green-headed flies. He kept his head down and walked forward.
"Ryyy–annn~"
As soon as he stepped out of the gate, he heard a voice calling out affectionately. Even Nicole, in her most indulgent moments, had never called him like that. It was a voice that could make one weep from hearing it.
But when this voice reached his ears, it only gave Ryan goosebumps. He instinctively looked ahead and saw, surrounded by reporters and paparazzi, a middle-aged couple staring at him as if he were a pile of gold.
"Ryan~ I'm your mother!"
The speaking woman had blonde hair and some Jewish features. Theoretically speaking, it wasn't impossible.
It was like they had rehearsed. As the woman expressed her deep emotion, camera shutters snapped continuously. Her facial expressions kept changing—sadness, surprise, excitement appeared one after another. Her sky-blue eyes were full of tears that refused to fall.
"If I were a judge, I'd give you an Oscar right now!"
That was Ryan's only thought. Although he often said others viewed the world with the worst assumptions, in reality, he always looked at people he had no emotional ties with in just that way.
"Ryan!" The woman seemed unable to hold back and strode toward him, seemingly intending to embrace him.
Unfortunately, Ryan only liked the embrace of one older woman—Nicole Kidman. No other older woman would ever be allowed to touch him!
"Cut!"
Mimicking James Cameron's voice, Ryan yelled angrily. The woman froze in place, the reporters released their shutter buttons, all half-laughing.
What was Ryan Jenkins doing? Did he think this was a film shoot? That he was the director in control? The reporters looked from the boy to the woman, realizing a good show was about to begin.
"Ryan, I'm your mother." The woman gave him a look like she'd just found a mountain of gold, then pointed at the man behind her. "And this is your—"
"Ma'am!" Ryan cut her off coldly. "I don't care who you are; you have nothing to do with me. Go ahead, continue your performance. If it's good enough, I believe you'll win the Oscar next year. Oh… wait, you're more of a theater actress. Then congratulations on winning your Tony Award!"
He turned to walk back toward the school. But with gold right before her, how could the woman give up? She charged at him, reaching for his arm.
But Ryan was no ordinary kid. In his past life, he'd raided bird nests and gotten into countless fights. In this life, he'd fought the T-1000 and suffered under tyrants on set. His reflexes were sharp. He dodged forward nimbly.
Just then, several school security guards who had seen him being harassed came running over. Ryan ducked behind them. The woman missed her grab and, due to her momentum, stumbled into a flowerbed with a loud crash, landing hard in a patch of roses. Now that was spectacular.
"Hey~ Everyone, keep shooting! This is a rare opportunity!" Ryan cupped his hands like a microphone and shouted loudly. "Mick, did you get that? The woman fell by herself. If she accuses me, you all have to testify!"
Mick Taylor pointed to his camera. "Don't worry, Ryan. I got all the shots."
Nodding slightly to his old friend from the L.A. Times, Ryan turned to the surrounding reporters and paparazzi. "Why aren't you clapping? This lady threw herself into the flowers to portray a mother—she's a role model for all actors. Applaud! Applaud!"
With that, he started clapping himself. The crisp sound echoed far and wide, making the reporters bare their teeth in amusement and disbelief.
They all knew Ryan Jenkins was notoriously difficult, but they hadn't expected his sarcasm to be this sharp.
Still, what they cared more about was whether this couple really were his biological parents. Since they dared show up in public like this, they must have some basis for it.
"You little bastard! Is this how you treat your parents?"
The man, who had been silently observing, now stepped forward. But before he got too close, Ryan could already smell the thick stench of alcohol—far worse than anything he'd smelled on Michael Rohan.
Perhaps still drunk, the man took several large steps forward and suddenly raised his hand to slap Ryan.
Everyone was stunned. Striking a minor in public was a serious crime. Was this guy insane?
Ryan knew his small body couldn't take that kind of hit. He quickly stepped back. But the slap never landed. A young security guard beside him intercepted the man's arm mid-air.
"Let go!"
The stench of alcohol hit hard. Ryan took another big step back, pinching his nose.
The guard squeezed the man's arm until he broke into a cold sweat, then casually pushed him backward. The man stumbled several steps before the woman, who had just climbed out of the flowerbed, managed to catch him.
"Thank you, George," the boy said to the guard.
"No problem, Ryan. Gotta earn that coffee you treat us to." The guard had a movie-star face, comparable to Tom Cruise, but the faint scar above his eyebrow made him more rugged.
Only now did the surrounding reporters snap out of it. Another round of camera shutters snapped. Ryan sighed heavily—seemed like he was cursed lately, trouble never stopped.
His eyes swept the area. The car meant to pick him up still hadn't arrived. He frowned slightly… something felt off…
Ryan's nerves were always razor-sharp, not just in art. In that instant, he felt it—someone in the distance was watching him intently!
Without hesitation, he looked over. A car window was quickly rolling up. Through the narrowing gap, a handsome face met his eyes.
Perfect. Just perfect. Ryan sneered to himself. Across two lifetimes, he finally had a second enemy.
That guy definitely hadn't expected Ryan's senses to be so sharp. Or that he could recognize him from so far away!
The silver-gray Chevrolet drove off down the street, leaving behind a trail of exhaust that reeked of Tom Cruise. Ryan wasn't interested in continuing this absurd drama that may or may not have been real. With the security guards around him, he returned to the school.
"Ryan Jenkins! I'm Michelle Jenkins! And this is your father, Glennshire Jenkins! You can't deny it—we'll go to court for a paternity test and reclaim custody!"
The middle-aged woman was still shouting, but her appearance was tragic—her clothes torn by rose thorns, her face and hands covered in scratches. If anyone nearby could understand Chinese, they'd surely nickname her "The Mother Harpy."
"George, thank you all."
Hiding inside the security room, Ryan sincerely thanked the guards. It wasn't the first time George had helped him. This veteran was a good man.
Ryan called Nicole's cell. After a few words, he sighed—bad luck again. Pi Kingsley, who was supposed to pick him up, had been in a car accident. Fortunately, she was okay. Nicole and her assistant were already on their way.
With George's approval, Ryan said into the phone, "Nicole, don't park outside when you get here—come directly into the school. Don't worry! Just some people actively looking for trouble again."