Chapter 32: Greedy Rogue

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Sanders picked up the passbook and looked at the figures with avarice. $8,500 was a significant sum in this era, especially when the average annual income was around $2,000.

His eyes gleamed with greed as he tossed the passbook back onto the table. "You've managed to save up so much money in just over a year. Congratulations. You must have a generous sponsor," he said with a mocking tone.

Marisa clenched the passbook tightly. "I'll get you the remaining $1,500 as soon as possible. I just want to terminate the contract."

Sanders smirked, his expression turning sinister. "It's not just about $1,500. That amount is far from enough."

Marisa's eyes widened. "What do you mean? The penalty was supposed to be $10,000!"

Sanders chuckled darkly. "You must be mistaken," he said, walking over to his safe. He opened it, pulled out a file, and extracted a contract from it.

"It states $100,000," he said, shaking the document in front of her.

Marisa's face turned pale as she saw the figure. "But... how can it be $100,000? The contract I have says $10,000!" she exclaimed.

Sanders laughed cruelly. "You signed three contracts, Marisa. You only looked at the top one. The one you have does say $10,000, but the other two are for $100,000 each. You were so eager back then, you didn't even bother to read them properly. Such naivety."

Marisa's determination grew as she glared at him. "I still have a contract too, and I might not lose in a lawsuit!"

Sanders sneered. "A lawsuit? You'll definitely lose. I have one copy, and the contract notary office has another. They both state $100,000. Even if it goes to court, I'm confident I'll win. You're still too inexperienced."

"You're a greedy rogue!" Marisa spat out.

Sanders simply shrugged. "So what? I have the contract."

Marisa's anger boiled over. She lunged for the contract, but Sanders was too quick. He grabbed her by the neck and shoved her against the wall.

"Bang!"

Marisa's head hit the wall, leaving her dizzy.

Sanders held her by the neck, pressing her against the wall, his face inches from hers. "Don't think you can escape me. Get $100,000 from your benefactor, or you'll never get away. Beg him, serve him well, and maybe you'll have a chance. Otherwise, you're stuck here."

Marisa struggled to breathe as her face flushed red.

In a desperate move, she kicked Sanders, causing him to yelp in pain and release her. Seizing the opportunity, Marisa turned and ran.

Sanders' enraged shouts echoed behind her. "Marisa, you can't run forever! If you don't get the $100,000, I won't let you escape easily."

Marisa stumbled down the stairs and bolted into the street. This was the third time she had fled in such a state.

She flagged down a taxi, jumped in, and instructed the driver to drive quickly. As the car moved away, she felt a temporary sense of relief.

Though she was safe for now, Marisa's heart was heavy with despair. Sanders had deceived her not once, but twice, altering the contract to trap her.

$100,000 was a fortune she could never hope to afford.

Back at home, Marisa looked at the bruises and scratches on her neck in the mirror and couldn't hold back her tears.

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Hardy arrived at Siegel Manor, where Siegel invited him for breakfast. After the meal, they drove to the film company together. Noah's Ark Film Company

In Hollywood, where the film industry was rapidly expanding, countless new studios had sprung up. Many were mere shell companies, but Noah's Ark was among the upper tier, with its own office building and complete departments for film production, performance, marketing, finance, administration, and legal affairs.

It had contracted actors, directors, and screenwriters, and was fully equipped to produce films independently. Despite its capabilities, Siegel used the company primarily as a stepping stone into high society, investing more into it than he ever received.

Upon their arrival, General Manager Cohen greeted them.

"I'd like to introduce my new assistant, Jon Hardy," Siegel announced. "Cohen, please gather the management team so we can make the announcement."

Cohen extended his hand to Hardy with a smile. "Hello, Mr. Hardy."

"Hello, Mr. Cohen. It's a pleasure to meet you," Hardy responded, shaking his hand.

After the management meeting where Hardy was introduced, Siegel inquired about the company's current projects. Cohen mentioned, "We're planning a western-themed film. The screenwriter has already drafted the script. It's a story about gold mine disputes."

Siegel raised an eyebrow. "Are you confident this film will be profitable?"

Cohen responded, "The screenwriter team believes it has great potential. The director team thinks it's full of human conflict and deep themes."

Hardy, listening intently, was skeptical. Films focusing on highbrow themes often struggled at the box office. Given Noah's Ark's resources, it seemed unlikely they could produce a classic.

"What's the projected budget?" Siegel asked.

"Estimated at $700,000. The company can contribute $150,000. Do you want to invest, Mr. Siegel?" Cohen asked.

Siegel, more focused on building a Las Vegas casino, was not interested in investing further. "I won't be investing in this project. Proceed with the usual process."

"Understood. I'll seek investments from other sources," Cohen said promptly.

With that, Siegel prepared to leave for Las Vegas, instructing Hardy to contact him if needed.

After Siegel departed, Cohen and the department heads spent some time with Hardy, introducing him to the office and his new role.

"This is your office, Hardy. You'll be working here from now on," Cohen said, smiling.

"Thank you, Mr. Cohen. Please call me Jon," Hardy replied.

"Looking forward to working together."

"Likewise!"

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