Bab 32: Chapter 32: Greedy Rogue
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Sanders picked up the passbook and looked at the figures with avarice. $8,500 was a significant sum in this era, especially when the average annual income was around $2,000.
His eyes gleamed with greed as he tossed the passbook back onto the table. "You've managed to save up so much money in just over a year. Congratulations. You must have a generous sponsor," he said with a mocking tone.
Marisa clenched the passbook tightly. "I'll get you the remaining $1,500 as soon as possible. I just want to terminate the contract."
Sanders smirked, his expression turning sinister. "It's not just about $1,500. That amount is far from enough."
Marisa's eyes widened. "What do you mean? The penalty was supposed to be $10,000!"
Sanders chuckled darkly. "You must be mistaken," he said, walking over to his safe. He opened it, pulled out a file, and extracted a contract from it.
"It states $100,000," he said, shaking the document in front of her.
Marisa's face turned pale as she saw the figure. "But... how can it be $100,000? The contract I have says $10,000!" she exclaimed.
Sanders laughed cruelly. "You signed three contracts, Marisa. You only looked at the top one. The one you have does say $10,000, but the other two are for $100,000 each. You were so eager back then, you didn't even bother to read them properly. Such naivety."
Marisa's determination grew as she glared at him. "I still have a contract too, and I might not lose in a lawsuit!"
Sanders sneered. "A lawsuit? You'll definitely lose. I have one copy, and the contract notary office has another. They both state $100,000. Even if it goes to court, I'm confident I'll win. You're still too inexperienced."
"You're a greedy rogue!" Marisa spat out.
Sanders simply shrugged. "So what? I have the contract."
Marisa's anger boiled over. She lunged for the contract, but Sanders was too quick. He grabbed her by the neck and shoved her against the wall.
"Bang!"
Marisa's head hit the wall, leaving her dizzy.
Sanders held her by the neck, pressing her against the wall, his face inches from hers. "Don't think you can escape me. Get $100,000 from your benefactor, or you'll never get away. Beg him, serve him well, and maybe you'll have a chance. Otherwise, you're stuck here."
Marisa struggled to breathe as her face flushed red.
In a desperate move, she kicked Sanders, causing him to yelp in pain and release her. Seizing the opportunity, Marisa turned and ran.
Sanders' enraged shouts echoed behind her. "Marisa, you can't run forever! If you don't get the $100,000, I won't let you escape easily."
Marisa stumbled down the stairs and bolted into the street. This was the third time she had fled in such a state.
She flagged down a taxi, jumped in, and instructed the driver to drive quickly. As the car moved away, she felt a temporary sense of relief.
Though she was safe for now, Marisa's heart was heavy with despair. Sanders had deceived her not once, but twice, altering the contract to trap her.
$100,000 was a fortune she could never hope to afford.
Back at home, Marisa looked at the bruises and scratches on her neck in the mirror and couldn't hold back her tears.
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Hardy arrived at Siegel Manor, where Siegel invited him for breakfast. After the meal, they drove to the film company together. Noah's Ark Film Company
In Hollywood, where the film industry was rapidly expanding, countless new studios had sprung up. Many were mere shell companies, but Noah's Ark was among the upper tier, with its own office building and complete departments for film production, performance, marketing, finance, administration, and legal affairs.
It had contracted actors, directors, and screenwriters, and was fully equipped to produce films independently. Despite its capabilities, Siegel used the company primarily as a stepping stone into high society, investing more into it than he ever received.
Upon their arrival, General Manager Cohen greeted them.
"I'd like to introduce my new assistant, Jon Hardy," Siegel announced. "Cohen, please gather the management team so we can make the announcement."
Cohen extended his hand to Hardy with a smile. "Hello, Mr. Hardy."
"Hello, Mr. Cohen. It's a pleasure to meet you," Hardy responded, shaking his hand.
After the management meeting where Hardy was introduced, Siegel inquired about the company's current projects. Cohen mentioned, "We're planning a western-themed film. The screenwriter has already drafted the script. It's a story about gold mine disputes."
Siegel raised an eyebrow. "Are you confident this film will be profitable?"
Cohen responded, "The screenwriter team believes it has great potential. The director team thinks it's full of human conflict and deep themes."
Hardy, listening intently, was skeptical. Films focusing on highbrow themes often struggled at the box office. Given Noah's Ark's resources, it seemed unlikely they could produce a classic.
"What's the projected budget?" Siegel asked.
"Estimated at $700,000. The company can contribute $150,000. Do you want to invest, Mr. Siegel?" Cohen asked.
Siegel, more focused on building a Las Vegas casino, was not interested in investing further. "I won't be investing in this project. Proceed with the usual process."
"Understood. I'll seek investments from other sources," Cohen said promptly.
With that, Siegel prepared to leave for Las Vegas, instructing Hardy to contact him if needed.
After Siegel departed, Cohen and the department heads spent some time with Hardy, introducing him to the office and his new role.
"This is your office, Hardy. You'll be working here from now on," Cohen said, smiling.
"Thank you, Mr. Cohen. Please call me Jon," Hardy replied.
"Looking forward to working together."
"Likewise!"
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Bab 33: Chapter 33: Killing is Easy
After General Manager Cohen left, Hardy toured the film company, visiting various departments. He quickly familiarized himself with the situation and eventually arrived at the Performing Arts Department.
The Performing Arts Department was responsible for signing artists, training them, arranging performances, and selecting actors for movies.
Thomas, the director of the Performing Arts Department, stood up with a smile when he saw Hardy. "Assistant Hardy, welcome to the company. If you have any questions about the Performing Arts Department, feel free to ask."
After some discussion, Hardy inquired, "What are the requirements for signing a new actor?"
Thomas explained, "We look for attractive individuals with potential. We offer an initial contract, followed by training. The company recruits more than a dozen new artists each year, but so far, none have become major stars—most remain in the third or fourth tier."
"What does the initial contract entail? Do the artists get paid?"
"Yes, they receive $40 per week and 19% of their performing income. The company takes 90%, and the contract duration ranges from 6 to 10 years. However, as the artist gains fame, their share increases depending on their strength," Thomas said.
It was a harsh deal, akin to a vampire's contract.
Despite this, many still eagerly enter the industry, sacrificing much to improve their fame.
"I have a friend who is very interested in joining the entertainment industry. She would start as a junior actor," Hardy mentioned.
Thomas understood immediately. Hardy, being the newly appointed assistant to the boss, was a senior management member, and Thomas saw an opportunity to establish a good relationship.
"No problem. If your friend is available, she can come in for an interview. Although our contract quota for this year is full, we'll start a new contract plan in 1946. If she's suitable, she can sign with us then," Thomas offered with a smile.
"Great. We can discuss it further when the time comes. I'll go check out the other departments now," Hardy said, extending his hand.
Thomas shook it warmly.
In many places—whether in politics, business, or workplaces—the sentiment of human relationships and sophistication holds true.
Back in his office, Hardy received detailed information about the company, including financial status, personnel, and equipment reserves. To truly understand a company, starting with this information was the quickest route. Hardy reviewed the data carefully.
After arriving in this world, Hardy discovered that not only had his physical recovery abilities greatly improved, but his memory was also significantly better. While he hadn't reached a photographic memory level, he could easily remember 40% to 50% of what he read. With a few reviews, he could recall most of it with firm clarity.
This could be considered a significant advantage.
By the time Hardy finished reviewing the information, it was dark outside.
He checked the time: 6:30 PM.
Should he go to the Xiacheng factory?
That seemed fine.
Returning to Bill's place for the night?
It might be better to visit Marisa and share the good news that she could sign with Noah's Ark. She would likely be very happy to hear that.
Hardy drove to Marisa's house, but the window was dark. She might not be home.
He rang the doorbell.
Moments later, Marisa opened the door, looking flustered. She quickly let him in.
"I didn't expect you to come over," she said, closing the door behind them.
Marisa turned her face away from Hardy, trying to hide it from view.
But Hardy noticed everything.
Her eyes were slightly red and swollen, indicating she had been crying. He also saw bruises on her neck.
Hardy frowned. "Marisa, what happened?"
"Nothing," Marisa replied evasively.
She didn't want to burden Hardy with her problems, believing that as a small-time gang leader, he wouldn't be able to solve her troubles.
"Tell me what happened, Marisa. Maybe I can help. Some things are too heavy to bear alone," Hardy said gently, stroking her hair.
Feeling cared for, Marisa's eyes welled up, and tears began to flow freely.
Between sobs, Marisa explained the situation. Hardy's expression grew serious, his eyes narrowing with a cold light.
Brad Sanders and the Persian Cat Model Performing Arts Company. He noted the name carefully.
Marisa's tears flowed as she spoke, the crystalline drops gliding down her cheeks under the light, creating a poignant scene.
"I've decided to give up on my dreams of fame. If I'm not an actor or singer, that jerk Sanders won't be able to control me anymore," Marisa said through her tears.
"Starting tomorrow, I won't attend acting or vocal classes. It will save me a lot of money," she added, her tears continuing to flow.
Hardy embraced Marisa, letting her rest her head on his shoulder. "No, you should still pursue your passion. It's something you love, isn't it? I'd like to hear you sing. Besides, Christmas is coming soon. How do you plan to spend it?"
The sudden change of topic startled Marisa. "I'm alone in Los Angeles, so I'm not sure."
"I'm alone too."
"Are you going to spend Christmas with me?" Marisa asked, looking up with tearful eyes.
"Will you give me a gift?" Hardy asked with a smile.
"Of course! What would you like?"
Hardy shook his head. "You can't ask for a Christmas gift; it should remain a mystery. I hope it's something special that I'll love."
"Then I'll make sure to find a gift that you'll really like," Marisa said with a smile.
Marisa finally calmed down.
She prepared a simple dinner.
They lay in bed together, holding each other. They didn't do much—just chatted softly until Marisa fell asleep in Hardy's arms.
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The next day, Hardy drove to the Xiacheng factory.
Except for Sean Ryder, who was handling deliveries, Henry and the others were present.
"Any updates from the Spanish Gang?" Hardy asked.
"They're still searching for information about the casino robbery and have even offered a $10,000 reward. But we covered our tracks well, leaving no clues. The Spaniards haven't been able to track us down," Henry replied.
Leo added, "Boss, Kerry and I overheard that Spain is expanding its drug business. There's a big drug deal coming up, but we don't have all the details yet."
The Spanish casino had lost over $200,000 due to the robbery and was unable to operate normally, causing significant losses. Dani might be expanding the drug trade to compensate.
"Leo, Kerry, investigate this lead but be careful," Hardy instructed.
"Understood, boss."
Turning to Henry and Matthew, Hardy said, "You two need to investigate a man named Brad Sanders, the manager of the Persian Cat Model Performing Arts Company on Sycamore Street."
"Got it, boss. Is he important?" Henry asked.
"Yes, very important," Hardy confirmed.
He didn't rush into action.
Killing is easy.
It may not always be the best outcome.
As the saying goes, only by knowing yourself and the enemy can you win a hundred battles.
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