Chapter 542: Illegitimate Child

In the opulent heart of Beverly Hills, the small square before the Hilton Hotel transformed into a vibrant hub of activity. Hundreds of environmentalists, alongside the eccentric members of the Coca-Cola Cult, converged, their fervent discussions creating a buzz of excitement. The air thrummed with anticipation, underscored by the steady hum of media outlets. Reporters, cameras in hand, jostled for space in the crowded media booths, all eager to capture the unfolding spectacle.

The occasion was a high-profile charity event hosted by Leonardo's Earth Alliance, a renowned environmental organization. The event had garnered widespread media attention, not only for its noble cause but also for the glittering array of celebrities in attendance. Names like Martin, Nicholson, and Kate Winslet glittered on the guest list, each adding their star power to the event's allure.

The passion of the environmentalists, gathered in the square, seemed to eclipse even the intense fanaticism of movie fans. Their chants and banners, each a vibrant testament to their cause, created a tapestry of activism against the backdrop of the hotel's grandeur.

Meanwhile, in a plush lounge of the hotel, a different scene unfolded. Three figures, whom the text playfully dubs as 'bastards,' convened, their attire freshly changed. The air was thick with the undercurrents of their conversation.

Martin, his expression etched with seriousness, requested a briefcase from Bruce. His solemn demeanor suggested weighty matters at hand.

Nicholson, ever the provocateur, sauntered over with a mischievous glint in his eye. "What's the matter?" he inquired with a blend of curiosity and jest. "Did your girlfriend call it quits?"

Leonardo, joining the group, countered with a playful jab, "Absolutely not. It's Martin's girlfriend who left him. Have you ever seen anyone smile more in defeat? We're all in high spirits here."

Martin, however, couldn't mask his dejection. "I lost," he admitted, a note of sadness in his voice.

Nicholson, puzzled, pressed for clarity. "Lost what, exactly?"

Without a word, Martin opened the briefcase, revealing stacks of cash. He solemnly handed two stacks to Leonardo. "I'm a man of my word," he declared, a resigned acceptance in his tone.

Leonardo, while accepting the money, struggled to recall the specifics of their wager. Nicholson, on the other hand, seemed to remember. As he counted the money, he couldn't help but probe, "Did you really get entangled with Harvey Weinstein's wife?"

Martin appeared trapped in a no-win situation. "I had no choice," he lamented. "They were relentless, each one taking their turn. I tried to resist, but it was futile." His recollection was tinged with the bitterness of defeat. "I didn't want to lose the bet, but what could I have done?"

Leonardo's response was tinged with reproach. "How could you stoop so low?" he challenged, his voice heavy with disappointment. Snatching up the banknotes, he confronted Martin with a brutal honesty. "You never initiate, you never commit, and yet, you prey on others' partners. Your true colors are finally showing. You're drawn to others' wives like a moth to flame. If Jack and I were married, our friendship would be impossible."

Nicholson, pocketing the money, quipped, "I've heard about Harvey Weinstein's reputation. How did you manage to get involved with his wife?"

Martin defended himself, "I was completely passive in the matter!" He explained the bizarre circumstances: "AA, KK, and Fox created a fashion supermodel group, akin to a sorority. Their sole initiation test was to seduce me. Only by succeeding could one join their ranks."

Leonardo, irate, questioned the group's judgment. "Why pick someone like you? Why not me?"

Martin retorted, "They didn't choose you out of consideration. Some things are better left unsaid to spare you the embarrassment."

Nicholson, quick to shift his allegiance, sided with Martin. "He had good intentions!" He then playfully lamented his own exclusion. "You didn't even consider inviting me. Am I not a brother to you?"

Martin, displaying a hint of brotherly affection, clapped Nicholson on the shoulder. "They were too many, and I feared for your wellbeing."

In that moment, Leonardo and Nicholson simultaneously distanced themselves from Martin, their actions speaking volumes of their disdain.

As the hour approached, the trio prepared to leave the hotel. Outside, a group of individuals with bicycles awaited them, signaling the next chapter of their unconventional adventure.

The trio, each selecting a bicycle, pedaled their way to the Hilton Hotel, embodying the spirit of the environmental protection activities they were attending. It was a gesture, a symbol of their commitment to the cause.

Martin, taking the lead, emerged from the hotel's passage. The moment he appeared, a swarm of reporters trailed him, their cameras and questions relentless in pursuit.

...

At a nearby intersection, a sleek black business car rolled to a stop. Inside, Toni, clutching her infant, was a portrait of anxiety. Her eyes shimmered with uncertainty as she bit her lip and turned to Ben. "Ben, is this okay? Are we going too far?" she asked, her voice quivering with doubt.

Ben Affleck, with a reassuring nod, pointed to a poster featuring Nicholson. "See that? His kids were kept in the shadows, fatherless and the subject of ridicule. Do you want little John to face that? To grow up without a father, scorned by others?"

Toni fell silent, her heart aching with the desire for her child to have a father, to live a life of prosperity and dignity.

Ben continued, his tone firm yet compassionate. "You and Martin had your moments, but this is Hollywood, a breeding ground for the insincere. As Little John's godfather, I must think ahead. What if Martin denies you and the child?"

He paused, not expecting an answer. "The media here, the reporters, the fans – they'll force Martin Davis to give you an answer."

Toni, hardened by the reality of her situation, asked bluntly, "And the worst outcome?"

Ben's mind raced through typical Hollywood resolutions. "Martin might offer you hush money, a sum to silence you forever."

Toni considered this. A few million could secure a comfortable life. Yet, Ben's thoughts were elsewhere. He gently stroked the sleeping child, emphasizing, "Little John deserves a father. We aim for the best – a future where he grows up with everything he needs."

Toni, yearning for her son to have an affluent upbringing, agreed, "I'll follow your lead."

Ben signaled the driver, "Change into the gear, it's time to go."

Casey Affleck, beside them, swapped his coat for a red Coca-Cola culture shirt and a commemorative hat. Ben, too, transformed into a typical American Coca-Cola enthusiast, his hat and full beard rendering him nearly unrecognizable as the famous Ben Affleck.

Toni, in sync, adorned herself and her baby in Coke Cult attire, even draping the child in swaddling clothes bearing Martin's image.

Ben, after testing the portable loudspeaker on Toni and finding it perfect – a device he'd spared no expense on – stepped out of the car with her, approaching the Hilton Hotel.

They were met by a crowd of movie fans, many donned in red cultural shirts. Amid them, Cassie's relatively unknown face blended in. "Can we make way? This mother, a die-hard Martin fan, just left the hospital with her newborn to meet him," he explained as they walked.

The crowd, catching sight of Toni in her thematic attire, instinctively parted, creating a path. Mothers with babies always commanded a special empathy.

"Thank you," Toni repeated, her gratitude sincere as she navigated through the crowd, reaching the red carpet's edge. She glanced towards the hotel entrance, the media area bustling with reporters.

Ben and Cassie, seasoned in navigating these events, squeezed through the sparse security setup. Close by, only two guards stood watch.

Ben whispered a plan to Cassie, who nodded in agreement, "No problem." Their strategy was set, their resolve clear, ready to unfold the next chapter of their carefully orchestrated plan.

The excitement on the red carpet was palpable as fans and environmental advocates, a vibrant mix of fervor and support, lined each side. Their restlessness grew, punctuated by shouts that pierced the air.

"Martin, I love you!" echoed a voice, brimming with adoration.

"Forever Coke God of War!" another chimed in, their enthusiasm unbridled.

Amidst this charged atmosphere, Toni craned her neck, curiosity etched on her face. From the throng, three figures emerged - a tapestry of generations with an old man, a middle-aged individual, and a youth - each pedaling their way on bicycles. They came to a halt at the carpet's edge, dismounting in unison before proceeding on foot.

And there, in the flesh, was Martin Davis – the center of all this commotion. Toni's heart skipped a beat; she braced herself for what was to come.

Ben, sensing her growing anxiety, leaned in, his voice steady but urgent. "Calm down," he reminded her, just as Martin was still a distance away.

Toni's response was instinctual. She bent down, planting a gentle kiss on her child's forehead, then carefully unwrapped the swaddling clothes, revealing the infant to the hungry lenses of the media cameras. The flashing lights were a mere afterthought to her in this moment of revelation.

As Martin drew closer, Ben gave a subtle nod to Cassie. In response, Cassie deliberately stepped on the foot of a bystander, sparking an immediate quarrel. The skirmish escalated into shoving, drawing the attention of two nearby security personnel who hurried over to defuse the situation, preventing it from disrupting the event.

Seizing the moment, Ben activated his portable loudspeaker, stepped over the isolation belt, and swiftly moved the mobile guardrail aside. "Go quickly," he urged.

Toni, clutching her child, dashed forward. Martin, just five or six meters away, was now directly in her path.

Bruce, Martin's bodyguard, sprang into action, moving to intercept Toni. His hand instinctively reached inside his coat, prepared for any threat. But upon seeing it was a woman with a child, he hesitated, then bellowed, "Stop her!"

Security personnel converged on the scene.

"It's me, Martin, I brought our child to see you!" Toni's voice, amplified by the loudspeaker, cut through the chaos. She lifted the child high, ensuring Martin and everyone else could see. "Look, this is your son! Your son!"

The baby, disturbed by the commotion, began to cry. But Toni, undeterred, continued her impassioned plea. "You said you loved me in New York, you gave me the most precious gift, and now I bring my child to see you!"

Her words resonated across the venue, sending the crowd into a frenzy. The media, ever watchful, redirected their cameras to capture this unfolding drama. Reporters, sensing a sensational story, swarmed towards the scene.

Whispers and stares from Hollywood's elite, including Leonardo and Nicholson, filled the air. Their expressions mixed with surprise and disbelief, pondering Martin's usually cautious persona now seemingly overshadowed by this scandalous revelation.

Meanwhile, Ben, discreetly standing out in his white sweater amidst the sea of red, watched anxiously, aware of the implications should Martin acknowledge the child. A Hollywood star's reputation could weather many storms, but this was uncharted territory.

Reporters buzzed around, their cameras flashing incessantly, as Toni, her voice unwavering, continued to expose the child to the glaring lights and eager eyes of the world.

Martin, though outwardly calm, signaled to Bruce. Under the protection of his security team, he, Leonardo, and Nicholson sought a path out of the chaos.

As Martin glanced back at Toni, he caught a glimpse of Ben Affleck smiling through the crowd. A moment of realization hit him – he suspected Ben's involvement in this orchestrated event.

Martin's memory then traced back to Toni, recognizing her as the leader of a group of fervent female fans. Yet, he chose to keep walking, his suspicions about Ben locked away internally.

Behind them, Bruce attempted to deescalate the situation. "Ma'am, let's talk somewhere else? This is not the place for this discussion."

But Toni, resolute and loud, proclaimed, "Martin wants to talk to me privately, he wants to recognize our mother and son!"

Bruce, caught in the delicate balance between public perception and the need for discretion, hesitated. He knew the child was a powerful symbol in the public eye and opted to invite Toni to discuss the matter privately, away from the prying cameras and the electric atmosphere of the red carpet.