Urban System in America
Chapter 240 - 239: Pure Blood Hollywood Kid

Chapter 240: Chapter 239: Pure Blood Hollywood Kid

He glanced at Aren, still brimming with passion, oblivious to the sharks circling his little raft.

Poor kid, he thought. You’re bringing fire to a place that only burns for profit.

As an internet addict and part-time writer for small entertainment blogs, he had consumed more behind-the-scenes stories than most insiders. He’d read hundreds of accounts—of films made on shoestring budgets pulling in hundreds of millions at the box office.

On the surface, it looked like Hollywood was an unstoppable money-printing machine. Investors everywhere—tech moguls, sovereign funds, even governments—were seduced by the illusion. They thought all they needed was a little luck and a decent script to strike gold. But in reality? Anyone hoping to profit off Hollywood without already being a part of its inner circle was chasing a fool’s dream.

Even the world’s wealthiest and most powerful had been humbled by the system. Massive consortiums poured in hundreds of millions, sometimes billions, hoping to carve out a foothold in the industry and join the ranks of the big studios.

And without exception, even with blockbuster hits under their belts, they left bleeding money and licking their wounds. That’s just how closed-knit Hollywood truly is—an impenetrable web of alliances, backdoor deals, and unwritten rules where only the old guard eats at the table.

Rex remembered how Sony, in his past life, had been fleeced for tens of billions before barely managing to gain a shaky foothold. And that foothold? It only survived thanks to the runaway success of the Spider-Man franchise. Without it, Sony Pictures would’ve collapsed under the weight of its losses.

Then there was Larry Ellison—one of the richest men on Earth. His son had entered Hollywood with sky-high ambitions and a fat wallet, hoping to leave his mark. Instead, he left behind hundreds of millions in what the industry mockingly called "tuition fees," then quietly retreated to the safety of his father’s empire.

And how could anyone forget the oil-rich Middle Eastern investors? They pumped tens of billions into Hollywood, dazzled by its glamor and seduced by its promises. The studios rolled out the red carpet—used their money to make films, host premieres, and fund vanity projects.

But if the film flopped? Too bad, the investors would just eat the loss. And if the film succeeded? The books would still show a deficit, thanks to the infamous "Hollywood accounting." The studios kept the profits, while the investors got a thank-you note and another invitation to pour in more.

That was the truth no one talked about. Despite the fierce internal rivalries, Hollywood’s top players were united in one thing—shutting out the outsiders.

The cake had already been divided, and every slice was fiercely guarded. No matter how much money you brought to the table, if you weren’t already part of the family, you were just another wallet to bleed dry.

Even though only a few seconds passed, Rex’s mind ran through countless scenarios, calculations unfolding like a quiet storm behind his still expression. But on the surface, he gave nothing away. Keeping his face calm, neutral and unreadable. After a moment of quiet contemplation, he made a choice: he wouldn’t say anything about the so-called friend’s scheme. Not now.

He could easily expose the so-called friend right now—tell Aren the truth, lay bare the setup. The story was obvious: a "favor" dangled like bait, the illusion of help while someone waited in the wings, hoping Aren would take the bait and drown in debt. He had seen it too many times before. That kind of greasy opportunism always wrapped itself in the disguise of kindness. But even if he told Aren the truth, what good would it do?

Between a stranger he’d just met and a friend who had stood by him for years, who would he believe?

The answer was simple. He’d take one look at Rex and see someone trying to sabotage his one fragile shot at a dream. Defensiveness would kick in. Maybe even turn hostile.And the conversation would end in awkward silence, distrust, maybe even anger. No matter how sincere he sounded, Aren wouldn’t hear it. Not yet.

So, he chose silence—for now.

Besides, despite its rough edges and lack of polish, the script genuinely had potential. It was unmistakably paranormal in genre, and even though the timeline needed major revision, there was something there—an unsettling intrigue buried beneath the amateur formatting. The core concept was fresh, different, and with the right touch, it could very well be his foot in the door. His entry into Hollywood.

And as for Hollywood being a closed-off, inbred little ecosystem?

Please.

That was never going to be an issue for him.

He wasn’t just an outsider hoping to break in. He was a pure-blood Hollywood child—born and bred in Hollywood. His parents had worked behind the scenes, part of the industry machinery that never made headlines but kept the whole engine running. And if memory served him right, even his grandparents had been Hollywood practitioners. His paternal grandfather had been a respected actor during his prime, a recognizable face from an era long past, a classic-era actor whose black-and-white photos still floated around in vintage film circles. He had grown up hearing the stories of his grandfather, how he was a well-respected actor in his prime, and had worked with classic celebrities like Audrey Hepburn

With that kind of lineage, he wouldn’t face the same kind of resistance most newcomers did. No studio would declare war on him just for trying to make a name.

Of course, maybe he was overthinking it. After all, right now he was just a small fish in a massive ocean. To the industry at large, he was invisible. People like him came and went every day—hopefuls with big dreams and short lifespans. The real fight didn’t begin until a company reached a certain size, started threatening the pecking order. _{f|ree(w)ebn\o.vel.com}

But that was a battle for another day.

Right now, the mission was simple: secure the script and tie down the director.

Everything else could wait.

(End of Chapter)