Chapter 54: Frying the Fish
Wayne pulled up at the estate, the vehicle rolling to a stop as dozens of reporters crowded the front gate, their cameras flashing wildly. Nina cast him a worried look as they stepped out.
Inside the mansion, Wayne's first action was to call Hela.
"Get in touch with the security firm. I want guards stationed immediately," he said firmly. "This place is too open. We can't risk any lunatic doing something crazy."
From the staircase, Naomi came down and joined Nina on the couch, her expression equally concerned.
Wayne raised an eyebrow in surprise.
"Naomi? I thought you'd be back at your apartment. Your agent should've told you to stay away—this mess isn't something you want to be caught in."
Naomi shook her head and replied with calm conviction:
"I fired her. Right now, you need someone standing by your side."
Wayne let out a genuine laugh—the first real smile he'd had in over 24 hours.
"That's the best news I've heard all day."
Naomi's tone grew serious again.
"So what now? I passed by some of the crew when I got here. The Black actors... they didn't look happy. If this keeps spiraling, I'm worried the whole project might collapse."
Wayne shook his head.
"Don't worry. We've got contracts. They can't walk away just because of rumors. Hollywood may be emotional, but most of them aren't stupid. They know better than to jump ship before anything's proven."
Naomi scowled, frustration boiling in her voice.
"So we're just going to let that lying bitch smear you without fighting back? She has zero proof, and yet every media outlet is acting like she's already won the case."
Wayne exhaled slowly.
"That's the thing, Naomi. This kind of accusation doesn't require proof. As long as I can't prove I didn't do it, the public will side with her. That's how this game works."
Whoever was behind this had aimed straight for his throat. And they knew exactly where to strike.
All Wayne could do now was hold firm and ride out the storm. No panic. No missteps. Just survive.
---
The next morning, the headlines exploded.
Tabloids—always hungry for scandal—were having a field day. Unlike the larger outlets, which maintained a cautious tone due to Warner Bros.' pressure, the gossip rags ran wild.
They plastered headlines like:
"Shameful Racist Exposed!"
"Disgusting Pervert in Hollywood!"
"Wayne Garfield: Sexist, Racist, Monster."
"Hollywood's Dark Secret: Another Predator?"
It was a full-blown media frenzy.
Sitting in the car while Nina drove, Wayne calmly tossed the latest newspaper into the back seat. His face betrayed no anger, no frustration. Just cool detachment.
He had expected all of this.
And the storm had only just begun.
Chapter 54: Baiting the Big Fish (Please Bookmark & Recommend)
Nina, who had already cleared things with the front gate, drove the car straight into the Warner Bros. lot and pulled up in front of the soundstage. As Wayne stepped out, he spotted John waiting—clearly, the firestorm was still spreading.
As they walked, John filled him in grimly.
"A bunch of minority rights groups have issued statements. Women's organizations and equality advocates are also calling for legal action. Warner's managed to keep the big media outlets somewhat quiet, but we have no leverage over Comcast's networks and papers."
Wayne's expression remained composed.
"That's good enough, John. Let's focus on the shoot. The media storm won't last forever."
There was one encouraging sign: all the cast and crew had shown up, even the Black actors. No one had used the scandal as an excuse to walk off set. That said, the energy was off. Even the simplest scenes were plagued by technical errors and fumbled takes. Wayne didn't rush anyone—he knew the key was patience. Finishing the movie came first, above all else.
By noon, only three usable shots had been captured. Everyone was distracted.
During the break, Jimmy came in, clearly exhausted, and dropped two newspapers onto the table.
"Mel Gibson gave an interview," he muttered. "Called you an uneducated brat. Said you obviously said those things and that you should apologize immediately."
Then, pointing at the other paper, he added:
"Morgan Freeman and Spike Lee are calling for the Black community to unite and sue you."
Wayne couldn't help but smirk bitterly. Right on cue. Everyone with a grudge was crawling out of the woodwork to take a swing.
"If only we had proof," Jimmy muttered. "That bitch knew there was no one else in the office. That's why she dared to lie like that."
Suddenly, Nina gasped. Without a word, she grabbed her bag, bolted out in heels, and drove off the lot.
"What the hell was that?" Jimmy blinked.
"No idea," Wayne shrugged. "Probably urgent. Let her go."
He didn't have time to worry about side dramas. There was still a movie to shoot.
Later that afternoon, as filming resumed, Nina returned—this time with a mysterious smile and a bulging purse. She walked into the office and carefully pulled out a small DV camcorder, placing it on the table in front of Wayne.
"Remember the camera you gave me? I brought it home the night Harry came by. It had run out of battery, so I never looked at the footage. But just now I realized... right before I left your office, I filmed a quick selfie. The camera must've kept rolling after that, and only stopped when the battery died."
Wayne immediately powered it on. There was only one video file.
He, Jimmy, and Nina huddled around the tiny screen. The footage began with Nina's playful selfie. Then, clear as day—albeit a bit grainy—Halle Berry entered the office.
The camera hadn't missed a thing. Their conversation, her behavior, even her accusations being completely false. Every word was caught on tape.
Wayne exhaled slowly, a weight lifting off his chest. Standing up, he gave Nina a hug.
"Thank you, Nina. You just saved all of us."
"No need to thank me, boss," she grinned. "So… I don't have to worry about losing my job now, right?"
Wayne chuckled.
"Worry? You just made yourself indispensable. As long as you want it, this job's yours."
He turned to Jimmy.
"Go get John—quietly. We need to plan how to use this."
Now that they had solid proof, Wayne was back in the driver's seat. And he had no intention of simply clearing his name. No, he was going to find out who was behind this and make them pay.
A hard lesson.
After watching the video, John leaned back, visibly relieved.
"This… this is enough to end the entire circus. I'll take a copy back to Warner. Once our media channels release it, we can shut this narrative down overnight."
But Wayne shook his head, tapping the table with his cigarette.
"Not yet. You can take a copy, but don't leak it right away. Wait two more days. I want to see who else jumps out of the shadows. Someone's orchestrating all this, and we're not going to play defense anymore."
"You want to bait them?"
"Exactly. I'm not a public figure—they have a narrow window to strike. If they don't make their move now, they lose momentum."
Jimmy looked uneasy.
"Wayne, don't drag this out. We need to shut it down and focus on the film."
John, however, was on board.
"Relax, Jimmy. With this footage, we're bulletproof. They can't flip this no matter what."
Wayne nodded.
"I'll stay here and keep filming. John, take the footage back and prep a release. Put the word out that I've got solid evidence and will address the public in two days. Let's see what kind of big fish we can hook."
Wayne's thinking was simple: Halle Berry alone couldn't have orchestrated this. She didn't have the reach or the resources. Someone far more powerful was trying to ruin him. And they had gone straight for the jugular—if the "racist" label stuck, his career in mainstream cinema would be over.
He had to find out who.
Then, he'd strike back.