Aggressive, pressing step by step—
Even though Anson was lying on the hospital bed and Lucas was sitting on the sofa, neither of them moving, why did the air in the entire room feel like it was solidifying, an invisible pressure overwhelming everything in its path?
Harry: …
His heart was pounding so wildly it felt like it would explode. Harry barely held onto his sanity, like a blade of grass clinging to the ground in the middle of a storm.
"It wasn't me."
"I already told you, I don't know anything. So what are you expecting me to say?"
As long as he gritted his teeth and refused to admit anything, Anson would be helpless.
Anson replied, "Then why did my eyewitness see you at the scene?"
Harry's heart sank. "Slander."
The survival instinct kicked in, "Anson, if you're just looking for a scapegoat to vent your anger on, you can take it all out on me. I know I shouldn't have been here today."
"Trust me, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"I apologize for showing up here today, but if you're trying to pin everything on me, then you're wrong."
"This kind of approach will only let the real culprit get away, scot-free."
Harry's defense was elaborate and impassioned, as if he were ready to give his life for the cause.
Even Lucas, for a moment, began to doubt their judgment—could they have been wrong?
Anson seemed to waver too, raising his chin slightly as if deep in thought.
The air settled in the silence. In the blink of an eye, the sun outside the window had dipped below the horizon, but the city skyline grew even brighter, lit up by the countless lights of the towering buildings.
Then, Anson showed a meaningful expression.
"So, what you're saying is that an eyewitness, who has no grudge against you, randomly pointed you out? Someone who may have never even met you, yet still identified you?"
Lucas glanced at Anson because they couldn't be 100% sure it was Harry.
But Lucas didn't say anything, instead looking at Harry, curious to see how he would respond.
If Harry was truly innocent, he should be outraged by now.
Harry took a sharp breath, his gaze flickering as he looked at Anson. He couldn't tell if Anson was lying—what if there really was an eyewitness?
Harry was thrown off again.
"Who knows? Maybe—maybe that eyewitness was paid off by the real culprit. The real culprit sneaked in, took pictures, and then left during the chaos, throwing out a random name afterward to frame someone else, all without making a sound."
Quick thinking!
Harry's survival instinct unleashed an incredible burst of energy, and in a flash, he managed to concoct a story that almost made sense.
However, Lucas was now certain: the real culprit was standing right in front of him, this smooth-talking guy.
Because of the details.
Harry knew too many details—
The real culprit had sneaked onto the set, taken pictures that caused an accident, and left during the confusion.
It seemed reasonable, almost like the daily routine of a paparazzo; but the vividness of his description, as if he'd seen it with his own eyes, didn't lie.
The biggest flaw, though, was that Harry didn't know who the "eyewitness" was. This eyewitness couldn't have been an inside mole helping the paparazzi sneak onto the set and frame Harry, so Harry's entire theory collapsed.
From every angle, Harry was slowly revealing his true self.
Yet, Harry didn't realize it. He kept on passionately defending himself, even accidentally revealing details that neither Anson nor Lucas had known yet—
The full picture of what happened was becoming just a bit clearer.
Lucas' heart pounded, throbbing with anger and urgency, so much so that he had to use all his strength to stop himself from smashing his fist into Harry's face.
Harry didn't notice. All he could think about now was distancing himself from the situation, proving with all his might that some dark force, out of envy or spite, was trying to take TMZ down and smear him in the process. He had nothing to do with Anson's injury.
"…No! It wasn't me! A hundred percent, I swear on my mother's life!"
Harry declared, loud and firm, putting all his energy into his defense, as if confessing before Jesus, his face full of conviction.
Anson remained silent the entire time, simply watching Harry.
Once Harry had finished his impassioned speech, Anson stared at his heaving chest and flushed cheeks, letting the silence creep in.
From heated argument to dead silence, from volcanic eruption to icy stillness—the extreme contrast left everyone disoriented.
Unease slowly crept in.
On the brink of suffocation.
Then—
"Okay. We'll continue our investigation."
Anson said.
Harry froze: That's it?
He had just given a passionate, detailed defense, only for Anson to respond like this? What was he supposed to say now?
Something wasn't right. Harry could sense that things weren't as simple as they seemed, but his mind couldn't catch up, leaving him overwhelmed with emotion.
The words stuck in his throat, like a lump he couldn't swallow.
Anson didn't wait for a response, though. "You can leave now. Sorry, but I won't be able to provide any photos from the hospital."
Harry: …
Finally, he could escape. He was finally free from this nightmare. But why did it still feel unreal? Why couldn't he move?
"Are you waiting for an escort?"
"If you don't leave soon, I can't guarantee you'll walk out of here unharmed."
Harry's knees wobbled. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure standing, blocking the light from the floor lamp. A tall shadow covered the entire room—
"I didn't say you could leave." Lucas's voice drifted over.
Harry started backing away. "But Anson…"
"Anson is Anson, and I'm me. We still have some unfinished business. Don't worry, I won't call the police. Having them involved would just complicate things."
No police?
Harry glanced down at Lucas' broad-shouldered, slim-waisted frame, far stronger than Anson's. The answer was already forming in his mind.
Damn.
"Anson, Anson…" Harry called out repeatedly—
What's with the huge difference in styles between the Wood brothers?
Panicking, Harry turned and bolted, yanking open the hospital door and darting out.
At some point, the black-suited security guards had returned, locking eyes with Harry in confusion. They didn't understand how Harry had gotten inside, but Harry didn't care anymore.
From behind, Lucas's voice called out, "Grab him."
Harry panicked. Lucas wasn't going to use vigilante justice, was he?
If he got caught in Anson's hospital room and was intercepted by Anson's brother, getting beaten up would be a given. Even if he exposed it later, no one would sympathize with him. Worse still, he hadn't even gotten any photos of Anson, so getting beaten would be a complete waste.
No, this couldn't happen.
Harry bolted, running for his life.
He didn't care that he was in a hospital; his legs pumped with everything he had, desperate to save him.
Run, Harry, run!