America Tycoon: The Wolf of Showbiz

Harvey Weinstein probably never imagined that one day he would be accused of racial discrimination, and in such an odd way at that.

Inside his Beverly Hills mansion, Harvey, shackled with an electronic monitoring device, stared at the newspaper articles about the accusations, dumbfounded.

After a while, he exploded, "They dare pin any damn charge they want on me; I'm not a freaking trash can! Are these black people out of their minds? It's now a crime even if I don't touch them?"

His lawyer hastily advised, "Harvey, watch your language, watch your language!"

But Harvey's anger only flared hotter, "I'd rather jack off than touch those n****rs!"

The lawyer felt helpless; Harvey was hot-tempered and easily enraged. Once Harvey had calmed down a bit, the lawyer said, "Your first court appearance is coming up, and the judge has agreed to public attendance and media streaming. You must control your temper, and if the judge asks about the black people, don't you say what you just said. Don't even mention the word 'black'.

Just say African American."

Harvey got a hold of himself, "I got it."

"The last time faking illness was a smart play; it won you some sympathy points." With the overwhelming public opinion against him, the lawyer had to come up with strategies, "For the other aspects, I will call the legal team over today; we do a rehearsal beforehand." Continue your journey with My Virtual Library Empire

Harvey knew the priorities, "Call them over."

Within an hour, all members of the legal team had arrived to prepare for the court inquiry.

Everyone understood that Harvey was no Simpson; he was facing a tidal wave of public opinion, and mounting a defense of innocence was extremely difficult.

From New York to Washington to Los Angeles, countless individuals and organizations were watching Harvey, waiting to reap the benefits of his downfall.

......

At the Los Angeles courthouse, even a mere court inquiry drew in hundreds of media outlets for coverage.

Victims, family members of victims, members of the Mitu Organization, representatives from various women's associations, and the Hollywood labor union representatives gathered by the thousands in front of the courthouse.

The case of Harvey Weinstein, with officially reported victims exceeding 120, had stirred up far more sensation than the Simpson case ever did.

Everyone was waiting for Harvey Weinstein to arrive.

Suddenly, the reporters' cameras all swiveled to one spot, not to capture the main subject but a black woman.

Meghan Markle, dressed in a culturally themed shirt and holding a poster high, appeared in front of the cameras.

The shirt and poster displayed the same slogan: "Severely punish the racist Weinstein!"

Her conspicuous act immediately attracted media attention.

Times had changed, and so had the rules of the game.

Meghan had cracked the code of popularity.

In a nearby van, Martin, Jolie, and Aniston withdrew their gazes, no longer interested in the spectacle.

The two leading voices of Mitu were adjusting their attire.

Jolie, both a victim and a witness, would also be questioned by the judge in court.

Aniston, pulling out a red-painted Mitu fist symbol, pinned it on Jolie's chest, encouraging her, "Be brave, be strong, we're all here to support you."

Jolie rolled her eyes and pulled out another Mitu symbol to pin on Martin's collar.

Believing in Jolie's psychological resilience, having gone through United Nations General Assemblies and war zones, Martin said, "You two go in together."

Aniston asked, "Aren't you coming with us?"

Martin replied, "I'll be going in with Leo and Nicholson to back you up."

Jolie checked the time, "Let's get out of the car."

Aniston opened the door; they both walked side by side toward the courthouse entrance, immediately drawing the reporters' and the public's attention.

In Harvey's downfall, Mitu played an immensely important role, with influence spreading not just across North America but even stirring similar movements in Europe.

Another van pulled up; Martin slipped out to get into the vehicle that had just arrived, while nobody was around.

Before he could close the door, Leo was shaking his phone at him, "I have something good for you to see."

Martin leaned in to look at the phone, displaying a video of Harvey stepping out of his house.

Harvey was graying, looking haggard, and with the help of a walking aid, he moved slowly towards the car.

Nicholson, too, was watching and, after seeing it, couldn't help shaking his head. He declared with decades of experience and discernment, "The makeup is average, the facial expressions way too exaggerated, the walking movements aren't convincing; his acting skills are nowhere near Leo's triple punch."

Leo took exception, "My acting is Oscar-worthy. Can he compare?"

Martin could see through Harvey's performance, "He's trying to garner sympathy from the public and the court."

"That must be it." Nicholson, pointing at Harvey on the phone screen, continued to analyze, "See, his hands are on the walker, but due to force of habit, his body's weight and strength are not really on it at all. If someone knocked his chair away, it would be quite a sight."

He turned to Leo, "Why don't you go and try?"

Leo shook his head, "I've always been low-key, not one for showing off."

Nicholson couldn't sit still without causing a bit of chaos, "The Foot Clan bastard's acting is so over-the-top, we've got to make a move too."

An idea suddenly struck Martin, "I've got a plan."

Leo interjected, "Martin's bad ideas can pop up anytime, anywhere."

Martin flipped him the bird, then continued, "I can find someone willing to do this..."

Nicholson looked out the window, her eyes catching a glimpse of the poster, "I think it could work."

Leo added, "We shouldn't be the ones to approach her."

"I'm contacting someone." Martin had already taken out his phone and dialed Bruce's number as he spoke.

Once he finished the call, Nicholson opened the car door, urging, "Let's go! Go! Hurry up."

The three men got out of the car one after another, pinned on their Mitu badges, and walked together towards the courthouse.

A large crowd had gathered in front of the courthouse doors. Initially, Megan could still attract attention, but as Jolie and Aniston, the two Mitu opinion leaders, arrived, the crowd around her rapidly thinned, with even the reporters losing interest in her direction.

The cameras all swiveled away without exception.

Megan couldn't help but feel a sense of loss; she had gone all out for this, losing face, yet still couldn't compete with the two celebrities who were just walking normally.

The people around her quickly dispersed.

Suddenly, Megan felt like a clown.

Then a man emerged from behind and whispered, "Want to grab the headline?"

Megan turned around to see an ordinary-looking man with a press badge around his neck, which bore the name of a TMZ reporter.

Ivan asked softly, "Do you want to be on the top news and trending lists on TMZ?"

Megan had dreamt of making the headlines and eagerly nodded, "I want to be on the headline!"

"Aren't you accusing Harvey of racism? You don't need to be polite with racists," Ivan's voice grew even lower as he spoke for a bit, then asked, "Do you have the guts to do it?"

Megan didn't answer directly but countered, "Can you guarantee I'll make it onto TMZ's top news?"

Ivan nodded, glanced at his watch, and said, "You only have one minute to decide."

"No need, I can tell you now!" Megan decided she could dispense with her dignity, "I'll do it!"

Ivan handed her a card.

Megan took it and saw that it only had a phone number on it.

Ivan said, "You can call this number to reach me with news in the future."

Megan tucked it away.

Without more words, Ivan left and disappeared into the crowd of reporters.

After thinking for a moment, Megan didn't discard her banner; she held it in her hand and, using her thick-skinned resolve and the physical prowess of her black heritage, she carved a path through the onlookers all the way to the steps in front of the court's main entrance.

After a while, a black sedan came from a distance and stopped at the curb.

As the car door opened, Harvey slowly moved down from the car, taking a walking frame handed to him by an assistant, and hobbled step by step towards the entrance of the courthouse.

He was alone, his eye sockets sunken, his appearance aged, his steps unsteady, looking like just another frail elderly man in his twilight years.

Many reporters on-site sighed with emotions. In just a few months, Harvey Weinstein seemed to have become a different person.

The noisy entrance suddenly quieted down, and among the onlookers who were there purely for the spectacle, a new thought emerged: Was it too much for the media and those women to relentlessly pressure such an old man?

The reporters' lenses were all focused on Harvey just as he approached the steps, and suddenly a black-skinned woman emerged from behind the cordon and, before the security personnel could intercept her, flew up and kicked Harvey's walking frame.

With a clang, the walking frame tilted away from Harvey's grasp and crashed to the ground.

With his theatrical prop gone, Harvey's first instinct wasn't to fall but to straighten his back and stand erect out of habit.

In that instant, the imposing, large, and obese Harvey Weinstein of old was back!

Decades of habit aren't shaken off without intense practice.

The reporters snapped away with their cameras.

Security personnel moved in to block Megan, but she swung her hand and threw the banner, hitting Harvey as she shouted loudly, "You shameful racist!"

Harvey recognized the woman, the one who had slandered him as a racist.

In the past, he would have undoubtedly stepped forward to slap her.

Harvey suppressed the urge to explode with rage, casting a cold glance at Megan, and without picking up the fallen walking frame, he ascended the steps.

"Shhh..." A deafening chorus of hisses came from the doorway of the courthouse.

Then, the insults started to fly.

"You're a healthy offender who still wants to win sympathy!"

"This scoundrel has never changed!"

"Liar! Murderer!"

Nearby the courthouse door, Martin and the others stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, and from the open window, they heard these sounds.

The Trio of Scoundrels bumped fists in celebration, and Leonardo said, "After this, even if he's genuinely sick in the future, the public will think he's faking it!"

Nicholson said, "Think you can win sympathy from the Face Gang Trio? Dream on!"

Martin added, "Here comes the main character, let's go, we're off to the public gallery."

The three descended the stairs, joined by LAPD's McLain, and entered the courthouse's public gallery together.

Though it was just an inquiry session, every seat was filled.

Near Martin, the mayor of San Francisco City, Gavin, was also seated.

Like many other celebrities present, Martin exchanged business cards with Gavin, who had accompanied his wife to the event.