In the suite's living room, Emma Watson paced back and forth, occasionally opening the door to glance outside. "Matthew, Brown isn't going to kill them, is he?" she asked nervously.
As she looked, Brown Williams was reaching inside his jacket, seemingly about to pull out a weapon.
"No, he won't," Matthew responded calmly. "Those guys are paparazzi from The Sun."
From outside, they could hear Brown Williams threatening the intruders, and the defiant voices of the reporters resisting.
Matthew sat there, uninterested in going out to confront the two paparazzi. That would only give them more attention than they deserved.
British paparazzi had a notorious reputation, and these two certainly lived up to it.
Dealing with them was Brown Williams' job, and that was enough. The two Sun paparazzi hurled threats about exposing everything, but their words had no impact on the reality they faced: three professional bodyguards each.
Of course, Matthew planned to notify the hotel and the authorities, but he wouldn't allow any visible physical harm to befall the paparazzi. Brown Williams, with his counter-terrorism background, was more than capable of handling the situation.
It wasn't long before the noise from the two rooms where the paparazzi had been restrained quieted down. The shouting and defiance faded away.
A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Matthew called for them to come in, and Brown Williams entered, holding two miniature cameras and a pair of voice recorders.
After closing the door behind him, Brown Williams reported, "I questioned them. Both are from The Sun. They got in with the help of a hotel cleaner. I searched them and found these."
He placed the devices on the table in front of Matthew.
"Destroy them completely," Matthew instructed. "Do it now."
This matter didn't just involve him; it also concerned Emma Watson.
Brown Williams nodded and called in another bodyguard, who proceeded to dismantle and destroy the cameras and recorders right there in the room.
"So, what's next?" Emma Watson asked, clearly trying to lighten the mood. "Shall we throw them into the sea?"
Matthew chuckled at her suggestion, then addressed Brown Williams again. "Inform the hotel. And… call the police."
Brown Williams nodded and left with the other bodyguard.
"That's it? You're just going to let them off?" Emma Watson seemed surprised. In her mind, Matthew wasn't usually this lenient.
Matthew shook his head. "I can't exactly toss them into the sea, can I?"
Emma probed further. "So what's your plan? You're not even going to tell me? I'm part of this too, you know."
"I believe the head of News Corp in the UK is Rupert Murdoch's son, James Murdoch," Matthew mused. "My agency has dealings with News Corp."
Emma immediately understood and nodded. "They'll be out of a job soon."
"Emma, your father is a lawyer, right?" Matthew asked. When she nodded, he continued, "I need him to find me a good lawyer. I'm not too familiar with British law, but I want to file a lawsuit against them. I don't care if I win—I just want to drag it out in court."
"I'll talk to my dad," Emma agreed.
She knew that this was a common tactic used by the wealthy against those with fewer resources—overwhelm them with legal fees and endless court cases. A few hundred thousand dollars in lawyer fees was nothing to someone like Matthew, but those two paparazzi wouldn't be able to handle it.
Emma had seen her father use this exact strategy when handling real estate cases, dragging unwilling tenants into court until they either gave in or ran out of money.
Matthew added one last thing, "There's something else, but I haven't figured it out yet. Let's wait until Brown investigates further."
"Make sure you tell me," Emma said.
Within minutes, the hotel's duty manager arrived, and shortly after, the police showed up. An executive producer from the film's crew, along with Christopher Nolan, also stopped by to check on things.
Matthew and Emma Watson gave their statements as part of the police protocol.
The hotel reviewed the security footage and quickly identified the hotel employee responsible for letting the paparazzi in, assuring Matthew that they would handle it swiftly.
The case was straightforward. After following the usual procedures, the police took the two paparazzi into custody.
Once the police were gone, the hotel manager formally apologized to both Matthew and Emma Watson. Matthew wasn't too harsh with the hotel, but he insisted they severely punish the employee who had helped the paparazzi.
He wasn't about to let it slide, though. Since Helen Herman wasn't there, he decided to hand the matter over to the film's executive producer to negotiate with the hotel.
In the end, Hilton Hotels agreed to waive all fees for the Inception production crew and offered both Matthew and Emma Watson gold cards, allowing them free stays at Hilton hotels worldwide for the next three years.
With everything settled, Matthew made a quick call to Helen Herman, then instructed Brown Williams to thoroughly sweep his room for any additional bugs or devices.
"Finally, some peace and quiet," Matthew said, leaning back on the couch and resting against Emma. "I didn't expect so much trouble just inviting you out. We would've been better off staying at your place."
Emma didn't seem too bothered. "It's no big deal." Then, she frowned slightly. "Though I'm sure tomorrow the gossip about us will be everywhere again."
Matthew waved dismissively. "Ignore it. Pretend it doesn't exist."
He had just heard from Brown Williams that when the police took the two paparazzi away, a swarm of reporters had already gathered outside the Hilton Hotel.
There was no way tonight's events would stay under wraps.
"I've already called my dad," Emma said. "I'm meeting him at his office tomorrow."
Matthew nodded. Finding a lawyer wasn't a pressing issue—if her father couldn't help, he could always turn to another law firm. For someone like him, there were plenty of top firms willing to take on his case.
Just then, the phone in the room rang. Matthew answered, listened for a moment, then hung up. "The hotel just fired that employee who let them in. They're going to file a complaint with the union, too. He's going to have a hard time finding another job."
"People like that are the worst," Emma said with disdain.
Matthew had an idea. "What if we see if they'll turn on each other?"
Emma leaned in, intrigued. "How would we do that?"
Matthew whispered his plan in her ear, and Emma nodded excitedly. "Yes! Let's try it! If it doesn't work, we lose nothing."
After discussing a few more details, Matthew made a call to Brown Williams.
In today's world, information spread at lightning speed. Emma opened her laptop, and sure enough, the internet was already buzzing with rumors about her and Matthew staying at the Hilton. Even the attempted intrusion by the paparazzi, which had happened less than an hour ago, was being reported in detail on various websites.
The efficiency of British entertainment media was astounding. Photos of the two paparazzi being taken away by police were already online, along with their names, their employment at The Sun, and a pretty accurate rundown of the evening's events.
After seeing this, Matthew couldn't help but suspect that there were more informants within the hotel—or even the police—leaking information.
As time went on, more and more gossip and tabloid stories flooded the internet. It was as if the entire British entertainment media had gone into overdrive.
In this country, the speed at which gossip spread seemed even faster than in Los Angeles.
As usual, Matthew didn't let it bother him, and he certainly wasn't going to engage in any media damage control. Besides, Emma was still here with him—how could he shamelessly try to spin the narrative?
Emma wasn't too worried about it either, so Matthew cared even less.
And there was one great way to forget all about the drama.
After browsing the gossip online for a bit, Matthew scooped Emma up and carried her into the bedroom. Little problems like this could never get in the way of enjoying life's pleasures.
As night deepened and midnight approached, Morrison was in the break room for cleaning staff on the second basement level of the Hilton. Under the watchful eyes of two security guards, he carried a small cardboard box as he was led out of the hotel through a side door.
From that moment, he was unemployed.
Walking with his head down under the bright streetlights, Morrison glanced back at the Hilton Hotel entrance, where at least hundreds of reporters were still gathered.
The media presence had always been significant here, but after tonight's events, it seemed like every news outlet in the UK had sent people to cover the story.
He wasn't surprised that the hotel had fired him. He had known this would be the likely outcome when he agreed to help those two guys. Still, things hadn't turned out the way he'd hoped.
Who was he supposed to ask for that fifty thousand pounds now? If it weren't for that money, would he have ever agreed to do this? He prided himself on his professionalism.
Now, those two idiots had been caught red-handed, hauled away by the police. No juicy photos were taken, and the promised bonus was nowhere in sight.
Frustrated, Morrison tossed the box he was carrying into a nearby trash can and stood by the side of the road, fuming.
He'd lost his job without getting paid. It was a massive loss.
No, this couldn't be over. Those two clowns had to take responsibility for this mess. He wasn't going to let them off that
easily.
Just as Morrison made up his mind, a figure wearing a black hoodie approached from behind and suddenly stood beside him.
"What do you want?" Morrison asked warily. London wasn't exactly known for its safe streets, especially at night. "Who are you?"
The person's hood had a large brim that cast most of their face in shadow, making it hard to see their features. Their clothes didn't fit well, and they seemed to be hunching over, making it difficult to determine their build.
"Hey, pal, want to make some money?" the figure suddenly asked.
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