[F.S.T.T.S] [016]

[Chapter 16: The Weight of Truth.]

Last Time on Chapter 015 of From Shadows To The Spotlight —

As he hung up, he felt a surge of gratitude toward her, tempered by a simmering anger. Regardless of what it might cost, him.

He was going to find out who had stirred up this storm and dared to weaponize Michael's memory against him. And when he did, he'd make sure they regretted it.

But for now, he turned his gaze toward the set, his mind clearing as he prepared to face the day's challenges with renewed determination.

He would see this film through, no matter what. And when the time was right, he would confront his enemies and show them just what it meant to cross Alex Masters.

Now Continuing —

The gentle hum of the trailer's air conditioning was the only sound in the room as Alex sat at his desk, flipping through a stack of production notes.

The weariness in his eyes didn't match his usual exuberant self; the accusations in the tabloids hadn't phased much, but the crew that he had been toiling along with on his passion project, doubting and talking behind his back, had taken a toll. 

He hadn't let the crew see it, but in the quiet moments, the weight of the truth he had buried alongside his friend bore down on him.

Just then, he heard the phone ring, shattering the silence and breaking him out of his downward spiral.

Alex stared at it for a moment, half-considering letting it go to voicemail. But the caller ID made his heart clench—Home.

He picked up the receiver, his voice softer than usual. "Hey, Mom."

"Alex, sweetheart," came the warm, familiar voice of Abby, his stepmother, her tone tinged with worry and love. "I know you're busy, but I had to call. Are you okay?"

Alex leaned back in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I'm fine, Mom. Just… dealing with the usual chaos of filmmaking."

"Don't do that," she chided gently. "Don't brush me off. I saw the headlines, Alex. All this talk about you betraying your friend—it's not true, is it?"

Even though she had framed her words like a question, the confidence in the tone of her voice told him that she hadn't doubted him for a single second.

"No," he said firmly, his jaw tightening. "It's not true."

She sighed, a mix of relief and frustration. "Then why aren't you telling anyone? Why are you letting them drag your name through the mud like this?"

Alex hesitated. His hand gripped the phone tighter as he stared out the small trailer window at the bustling set. The urge to defend himself, to shout the truth to the world, burned inside him.

But he couldn't. "Because it's not just my reputation at stake," he said finally. "It's his memory. His reputation."

"If I start pointing fingers, it'll all come out—the way he betrayed me, the way his wife manipulated him… It'll tarnish everything he stood for, everything people loved about him. I can't do that to him, Mom."

There was a pause on the other end, then her voice returned, softer now. "Oh, Alex… You've always had such a good heart. Even after everything life threw at you—all the pain, the betrayals—you came out the other side with kindness. You didn't let it make you bitter."

Alex closed his eyes, her words stirring a deep ache in his chest. Reminding of the one person who he had always tried to forget—his father, that bastard.

"But listen to me, son," she continued. "In the kind of world you live in now, in that industry of sharks and vultures, kindness is a strength—but it also makes you a soft target."

"Until now, you've remained unknown and have done a good job of making sure no one takes advantage of you."

"But Alex, people shouldn't mess with you because they don't know you, but because they know better. And whoever's behind this… they dared to use your friend, your dead friend, to come after you. They must face the consequences."

"They'll pay," Alex said, his voice low and measured. "I don't know who it is yet, but by the time I'm done, they'll wish they'd never crossed paths with me."

"I don't doubt that for a second," his stepmother replied, her tone fierce with pride. "But Alex… promise me you won't lose yourself in this. Don't let them make you something you're not."

"I won't," he assured her. "I've come too far to let anyone drag me down to their level."

There was a pause, and then she added, her voice softening again, "I'm proud of you, Alex. So proud. Not just for the man you've become, but for the man you've always been. No matter what happens, remember that, okay?"

Alex swallowed hard, his throat tight. "Thanks, Mom. That means a lot."

They exchanged a few more words, her warmth giving him a much-needed anchor amidst the storm. When the call ended, Alex sat in the quiet of the trailer, his mother's words echoing in his mind.

He wasn't just fighting for himself. He was fighting to protect the truth, his friend's legacy, and his own integrity.

And whoever had orchestrated this attack on him would soon learn the price of underestimating Alex Masters.

--------

John Langston was leaning back in his plush leather chair, savoring the deep, smoky taste of his favorite whiskey. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, and as he gazed out at the glowing Los Angeles skyline, it sparkled like a field of stars.

Tonight, he was celebrating a victory that had taken months of preparation, and him calling in all the favors he could; it had been something he had been dreaming of for years.

With The Hollywood Tribune successfully dragging Alex Masters' name through the mud, the rest of Hollywood would finally see him as Langston had always seen him—an outsider, a fraud.

It was rare for him to celebrate such a joyous occasion in solitude. Usually he would be deep into his drink, fucking an aspiring actress who was sleeping with him in hopes that she would catch his interest and gain a role in his next film.

That power to dictate people's lives was why he had come to Hollywood, why he had become a producer instead of an actor or director.

Not that he had the talent or drive needed for it, but that was something his ego would never allow him to say out loud or acknowledge.

He was by his lonesome because he couldn't afford to be blackout drunk and blurting out his involvement in Alex Masters' scandal; he knew just how well connected the bastard was in the industry.

But what made him even more paranoid was that no one knew who the man's backer was; it was an investment firm on Wall Street, but that too was just a front.

And that scared him; he didn't know just how deep Alex's, or rather his backer's, pockets were, so he had taken a lot of care to keep his name out of the list of people behind this attack. 

The only one who even knew of his remote involvement was the chief editor of the Hollywood Tribune, as it was Grace, his personal secretary, who relayed the plan 'anonymously' through a friend of hers at the Tribune.

But he wasn't worried on that end, as one of the owners was a friend of his that wouldn't let his name be ousted.

He allowed himself a satisfied smirk, savoring the sense of victory that had settled over him.

Langston lifted his glass in a private toast to the empty room. "Here's to you, Alex," he muttered, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Welcome to the real Hollywood."

Just as he brought the glass to his lips, the door to his office burst open, and his assistant, Grace, rushed in. She was breathless, her face pale, and her usual composure shattered.

"Grace," he growled, his good mood instantly soured. "This had better be important; I told you I wasn't to be disturbed tonight."

Grace's eyes darted from Langston to the television on the far side of the room, her voice stuttering as she tried to get the words out. "S-sir, you need to turn on The Chicago Daily channel. It's… Margaret Ross.."

Langston scowled, waving his glass at her dismissively. "What? Another hit piece on Masters, I take it? Let them relish it; we've earned this."

"No, sir, it's… Margaret Ross… she's—" Grace took a deep breath, straightening with newfound urgency.

"She's doing a live broadcast, and it's… it's about Veronica Carson's deception and Alex Master's innocence."

Langston's smirk instantly faded, and his grip tightened around the glass. He felt the whiskey turn into acid in his mouth.

"What?" he said, the single word cutting through the silence like a blade. He gestured at the remote on his desk, muttering, "Turn it on, Grace. Now."

Grace crossed the room in three quick strides, her hands trembling as she picked up the remote and pressed the power button. Without another word, she switched the channel, her gaze flicking nervously between Langston and the screen.

On the television, Margaret Ross was sitting behind the desk in the brightly lit studio of The Chicago Daily Network, her expression as sharp and unwavering as the lens focused on her. Her voice was calm and measured as she spoke directly into the camera.

"…and this evening, we at The Chicago Daily are here to set the record straight," Margaret said, her tone carrying a weight of conviction, ringing with a righteous authority.

"In recent weeks, Alex Masters has been the subject of accusations that claim he betrayed his friend, the late Michael Carson."

"Today, we have received indisputable evidence from Michael Carson's sister herself, Elizabeth Carson, that tells us a very different story than the one we've been fed till now."

"In fact, Michael left behind a message—a confession, if you will—that reveals the truth of what happened between him and Alex Masters."

Langston's mouth went dry, and he tightened his grip on his glass until his knuckles turned white. "What… is she doing? It can be…" he hissed, barely managing to hold back his fury.

Grace looked from Langston to the screen, her eyes wide with fear and her face as pale as porcelain. "I—I don't know, sir. But she… she claimed that she had been handed some evidence. I was told by a friend that they received a letter and a tape recording."

Margaret continued, her hands clasped on the desk, as she addressed the audience with the gravitas of a courtroom judge. Her voice remained resolute as she held up a small cassette tape for the camera.

"This is an audio recording of Michael Carson himself speaking to his sister, Elizabeth, before his death. In it, he admits his mistakes, his regrets, and the truth of his relationship with Alex Masters. For those watching, please be advised—this recording may be difficult to hear."

The broadcast cut to black for a moment, then faded back into the scratchy, unsteady voice of Michael Carson. His voice carried a weight of sadness, a rawness that seemed to reach through the speakers.

— To be Continued...

{2.5k words}

{TRL: This is the new Hollywood story that has been bouncing around in my head. I really need to get this out so here's another chapter.

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