Chapter 122

PARKING LOT

The bearded gentleman angrily dialed a number.

"Hello, is this Mr. Weinstein? This is David Wenham. We spoke at the banquet last time. I need a favor…"

On the other end, Harvey Weinstein frowned as he tried to recall who this "little actor" was. He vaguely remembered the name but couldn't place him.

Lord of the Rings?

Faramir?

Harvey had already sold the film adaptation rights to Martin and had no authority over the project. Wasting a favor on an insignificant actor? Ridiculous.

He was about to hang up when Wenham's next words stopped him.

"For Nicole's sake, please help me. I know you're on good terms with Martin."

"Nicole? Which Nicole? Nicole Kidman?" Harvey asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Yes, Nicole Kidman. We're both Australians, and she's been looking out for me," David replied, his voice tinged with desperation.

Harvey's lips curled into a grin. "Fine. I'll make the call, but whether it works or not, you owe me a favor. Agreed?"

Desperate, David nodded even though Harvey couldn't see him. "I agree, sir. I owe you one."

"Good. Remember, it's just a call—no guarantees. And don't lie to me, or you'll regret it."

"I wouldn't dare, sir."

Hanging up, David Wenham felt a spark of hope. He was sure Harvey's connection with Martin would smooth things over and help him secure the role of Faramir.

Little did he know, cracks had already formed in Harvey and Martin's relationship. In fact, Harvey secretly wished for Martin's Lord of the Rings series to fail. The project had slipped out of his hands, and its success would only serve as a bitter reminder of his failure.

David would have been better off asking Nicole Kidman for help directly.

Still, Harvey made the call—not to Martin, but to Peter Jackson. Harvey wasn't about to beg Martin for anything. It wasn't his style.

Peter Jackson relayed the request to Martin. "Harvey called," Peter said. "He's asking for a role for someone named David Wenham to play Faramir."

The New Line producer, sitting nearby, frowned. David Wenham? Didn't I already tell him to audition for another role?

His expression turned icy.

"David Wenham's name is on my blacklist," the producer muttered.

Martin, reclining lazily in his chair, responded, "Faramir's role has already been decided. Everyone's happy with the choice, so there's no need to change it."

The New Line producer nodded in agreement. "Exactly. Orlando fits the role perfectly, and Harvey has no involvement in this project anymore."

Peter Jackson, though still junior compared to Martin, understood the importance of playing his cards wisely. He nodded. "Understood."

Hollywood wasn't kind to "righteous fools." Survival often meant navigating alliances and power plays.

"Next!" Peter called out as the auditions continued.

David Wenham entered the room with a strained smile, glancing nervously at the New Line production team, who avoided meeting his gaze.

"You may begin," said one producer curtly.

"Uh, okay. Thank you," David stammered, launching into his audition.

It was a painful ordeal. He could feel his performance falter under the weight of nerves and doubt. His mind kept drifting back to Harvey's promised call, the hope of a last-minute miracle.

When he finally exited the room, his steps were heavy with regret. Was it too late to fix this?

Meanwhile, Robin Baum, Orlando Bloom's agent, was having dinner at Mr. Chow's when his phone buzzed.

"Hello? Jeff here… What? That bastard Harvey… Thanks for letting me know. Yes, I'll tell Orlando. Please thank Martin for us. Got it. Bye."

Hanging up, Robin exhaled sharply, his face pale.

Across the table, Orlando noticed his reaction and leaned in nervously. "Was that Martin's agent? Did something happen? Is the role still mine?"

"Almost lost it," Robin muttered, sipping his wine to calm his nerves. "Someone reached out to Harvey. But Martin intervened, and it's settled. The role is yours, Orlando."

"Harvey? Harvey Weinstein?"

"Yes, that conniving bastard. You're lucky Martin spoke up. Make sure you build a good relationship with him on set. This is a golden opportunity."

Orlando nodded earnestly. "Don't worry. I will."

The massive Lord of the Rings audition process concluded successfully after four days. Most of the key roles were cast with actors from the original timeline, except for Faramir and the Elf Prince.

Orlando Bloom, however, was overjoyed to receive the contract for the trilogy in Robin's inbox, finally putting his anxieties to rest.

As for Martin, the auditions only spurred his creativity. He locked himself in his study and began working furiously. Orlando's casting reminded him of another blockbuster franchise: Pirates of the Caribbean.

Disney's five-film series had been a massive hit in the original timeline, grossing over $4.5 billion worldwide and earning over $10 billion in merchandising profits. It was a money-making machine on par with Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter.

Now, with everything in his hands, Martin began drafting.

In just fifteen days, his unmatched discipline and "superhuman" work ethic enabled him to complete the scripts for all five Pirates of the Caribbean films.

For efficiency, he abandoned pen-and-paper and fully embraced typing, a testament to how technology had streamlined his process.

"What?! Martin filed five scripts with the Writers Guild? A whole series?"

Alan Horn of Warner Bros. jumped out of his chair in astonishment.

"Contact Martin immediately. Warner Bros. must secure this series," he barked.

"But…" The manager hesitated.

"But what? Get moving!"

"Boss… it's a pirate movie."

Alan Horn froze, slowly sinking back into his chair.

[•———•——•———•]

𝙥𝗮𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙤𝙣(.)𝙘𝙤𝙢/𝙂𝙤𝙙𝙊𝙛𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧