Trapped in a secret hotel floor, a Hollywood producer finds his dead sister's recorder and uncovers his mentor's dark studio network
👉 Previous Choice: You chose Option A – Flee into the industrial district and request a meeting with syndicate fixer Damon Cross.
I drove, following Evelyn’s cryptic directions, deeper into the industrial warehouse district of East Los Angeles. The streetlights here were dim, casting long, eerie shadows. Graffiti-covered walls replaced studio billboards.
A black unmarked sedan idled outside a deserted loading dock. As I pulled up, two burly men emerged. They were cold, professional. They searched me thoroughly, taking my phone without a word. Then, they ushered me inside a cavernous, dimly lit warehouse.
Damon “The Warden” Cross sat at a folding table, inspecting a handgun. He was impeccably dressed, his face unreadable. He gestured for me to sit opposite him.
“Julian Burke,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “I hear you have a problem. And perhaps, a solution to one of mine.”
“Arthur Pendelton,” I began, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands. “He’s been skimming. A lot of money. Around $2,400,000 from his film budgets.”
Cross’s eyes didn’t betray a flicker of emotion. He merely nodded once. “I’m a man who deals in facts, Mr. Burke. Hard documentation. I don’t move against high-profile Hollywood figures on hearsay.”
“I can deliver the ledger,” I said, thinking of Evelyn. “Proof. Everything.”
Cross steepled his fingers. “When you have it, you can reach out. You know where to find me. Don’t waste my time.”
➡️ Read Chapter 10 to continue the story
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