The richest actor in Hollywood.

By Saturday, the sun was already high in the sky, and Los Angeles was bustling with activity. The streets of the Colfax neighborhood were filled with people, starting their busy day. A newspaper deliveryman rode his bike to a three-story building by the street, parked his bike, grabbed a newspaper, and stuffed it into the mailbox by the door. As per a long-standing arrangement, he rang the doorbell hard.

Ding dong—ding dong—

Hearing the doorbell, the deliveryman immediately turned and left, riding his bike away.

The doorbell kept ringing, finally waking up the house's owner.

In a bedroom on the second floor, an exceptionally thin Spike Lee woke from his sleep. As soon as he opened his eyes, he felt something was off.

Although the doorbell had stopped ringing, his head was filled with a buzzing sound that wouldn't go away. The noise started small but quickly grew louder, forming a massive roar. He felt as if something was pressing out from his veins, nearly tearing his body apart. The sounds around him were muffled and distorted, as if coming through a soundproof barrier, and the patterns in his vision twisted and warped continuously.

Spike Lee's skin began to feel cold, and he could feel it twitching involuntarily. It was as if a tiny cat was scratching at his goosebumps with sharp claws. The itch and pain seeped through his pores, burrowing into his bones. He wanted to touch it, but his hands couldn't reach, and scratching didn't help. All he could do was shake his body, hoping the movement of his flesh would rub against his bones and relieve the itch.

This was an inhuman torment that could easily drive him insane if it continued.

Since appearing on the Oprah talk show, Spike Lee had been trying to escape his troubles using methods common in the industry, constantly increasing the dosage. As a result, he had been experiencing episodes like this more frequently.

Spike Lee knew exactly what the problem was. He propped himself up and reached for a pill bottle on the bedside table. After hesitating for less than a second, he unscrewed the cap, poured a few pills into his mouth, and swallowed them dry.

Then, he opened an ornate cigarette case, took out a homemade cigarette, lit it, and began to smoke.

But these only provided temporary relief and didn't fully ease his pain.

Taking advantage of a brief moment of clarity, Spike Lee reached into the bedside drawer, pulling out a small white plastic bag and some foil...

After a flurry of activity, he finally got the relief he desperately needed.

As if by some psychological suggestion, all the strange sensations in his body and mind suddenly disappeared, and he felt revitalized, as if the genius Black director and freedom fighter had returned.

Gradually, Spike Lee returned to a more normal state. He shook his head hard, got up, and walked out of the bedroom. He went downstairs, opened the door, and took the newspaper out of the mailbox. Without washing up or eating breakfast, he sat on the couch and started reading the paper in his disheveled state.

He couldn't even remember the last time he had left the house; his only source of information about the outside world was the subscription newspaper.

Similarly, Hollywood and the outside world seemed to have forgotten him. Except for a few visits from Francis Lawrence last year, no one else had contacted him.

It was as if Spike Lee had never existed in Hollywood.

He quickly skimmed through the pages, but when he reached the entertainment section, his hands and eyes froze. He had spotted a very familiar name on the front page of the entertainment section—Matthew Horner!

"Matthew Horner Dominates Independence Day: *Hancock* Opens Big!"

Seeing this headline made Spike Lee's heart sink. He wanted to turn the page but couldn't resist his curiosity and read on.

"According to reports, the blockbuster *Hancock* starring Matthew Horner was released simultaneously in multiple regions on Independence Day. The film had a grand premiere at the Kodak Theatre in Highland Center, with all the main cast and crew in attendance. In the North American market, the film grossed over $32 million on its opening day alone."

"Even in a film of this original genre, Matthew Horner once again proved his incredible box office draw. Although the film has received mixed reviews, with Matthew Horner's star power, many prediction agencies estimate that the film's opening weekend gross will not fall below $80 million, potentially setting a new North American opening weekend record for a non-sequel, original film…"

Spike Lee's eyelids twitched. As a former well-known Hollywood director, he knew exactly what this meant.

A wave of frustration surged from deep within, making him inexplicably irritable. The momentary burst of energy vanished, leaving him feeling utterly deflated, as if he had gone from being excited to mourning in an instant.

Quickly, he grabbed a nearby bottle, unscrewed the cap, and swallowed two more pills. After taking several deep breaths, he began to feel a bit more composed.

"The Hollywood superstar Matthew Horner has faced a torrent of criticism from the press both before and after the release of *Hancock*. Some have called the film a chaotic mix of comedy, action, sci-fi, and romance, with a disjointed storyline that falls apart in the second half. The performances by the two big stars, Matthew Horner and Charlize Theron, were also deemed unremarkable."

Spike Lee continued reading.

"However, many fans have defended the film, praising its subversive character portrayals, humorous dialogue, and innovative action scenes."

"The film's impressive box office numbers have silenced the critics, once again proving that Matthew Horner is Hollywood's most bankable star!"

"Bankable star?" Spike Lee scoffed. "Matthew Horner, a bankable star? He's nothing but a racist!"

"Cough—cough—"

His emotions flaring, Spike Lee started coughing violently. When the coughing subsided, he suddenly tossed the newspaper aside.

A powerful sense of disillusionment filled his mind.

That blatant racist, that despicable scoundrel, that shameless lowlife, was being hailed by Hollywood and the media as a legendary hero? Meanwhile, he, a fighter for freedom and democracy, was forced to hide like a rat...

This crushing psychological disparity spread through Spike Lee's entire body, causing him to tremble uncontrollably.

Spike Lee tried to stand but couldn't, collapsing onto the floor instead. But though he couldn't stand, he could still crawl, dragging himself across the floor like a worm. After a great deal of effort, with tears, snot, and saliva streaming down his face, he finally reached a cabinet.

He opened the cabinet, took out a pre-prepared syringe, and without hesitation, rolled up his sleeve to reveal an arm riddled with needle marks. He found a relatively untouched spot and injected himself.

Then, he collapsed onto the floor.

In his haze, he imagined himself entering the White House, becoming President, and issuing an order to arrest Matthew Horner. He then had him stuffed into a massive cannon, and the gunner raised the cannon's mouth and fired him straight into the sun, sending Matthew Horner into outer space.

Someone as despicable and shameless as Matthew Horner should be tormenting aliens, not Earthlings!

This was Spike Lee's last thought before the drugs took full effect.

As more people watched *Hancock*, the film's reception became increasingly polarized. Critics and a small portion of the audience slammed the film, particularly the scene where Matthew shoots through a shipping container, which was heavily criticized.

"Matthew Horner seems to think that since he won over the audience with his physique in *300*, he can now win over the Independence Day crowd with his other assets."

"He's overconfident, thinking all of America loves his 'brother'..."

There were plenty of comments like these.

However, most viewers thought Matthew's use of humor was spot-on.

"Matthew can be really funny when he's being serious."

"That scene was clearly a nod to some media's jabs at him."

"Didn't you notice? Matthew has a real knack for comedy."

Some reporters even asked Matthew about it, but he mostly laughed it off, saying it was just a funny movie moment. After all, no human could have such extraordinary abilities.

Of course, Matthew had to admit that compared to *I Am Legend*, *Hancock* was a bit of a letdown. It seemed that after a series of successes, Akiva Goldsman was facing the same problem as Jerry Bruckheimer—how to maintain the momentum after reaching the pinnacle of commercial success.

In recent years, Jerry Bruckheimer's shine had faded, with more and more failures tarnishing his reputation as a top producer.

Akiva Goldsman, who had produced hit after hit since *A Beautiful Mind*, including massive successes like *Mr. & Mrs. Smith*, *I Am Legend*, and *Hancock*, could now be considered a top-tier producer.

But no one can stay at the top forever. If Jerry Bruckheimer couldn't, it seemed Akiva Goldsman might struggle too.

Matthew had worked with three producers multiple times—Sean Daniel, Jerry Bruckheimer, and Akiva Goldsman.

The first two had both experienced significant declines after periods of incredible success.

*Hancock* was doing well at the box office, but after watching the final cut several times, Matthew couldn't deny that it was the worst film he had starred in in recent years.

Given his current star power and box office draw, combined with the film's buzz and impressive special effects, attracting audiences wasn't an issue.

But such star power doesn't last forever.

So when Akiva Goldsman approached him again, Matthew was ready to turn him down.

_________________________

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