CHAPTER 132: CHAPTER 132: IF YOU DON’T WANT IRIS CRAWFORD, HE DOES!

Hearing Auntie Faye’s daughter’s words, a group of professional reporters surrounded her from behind. Iris Crawford took a closer look—there were not just entertainment reporters, but also some big guns from other industries. They were well-prepared!

The crowd made their way to the small dark room and were stopped by bodyguards. Vincent Paxton’s bodyguards were naturally fierce, looking as shady as he did, likely having helped Vincent bully countless decent women before. At that moment, Martin Hawthorne drove a massive off-road vehicle straight to the set’s entrance. Seeing Martin Hawthorne’s license plate, Iris Crawford raised her hand high, "Over here!"

The crowd turned to look and saw two men jumping out of the SUV, both in vests.

Their skin was bronze, muscles robust, looking like they were full of energy, and both had striking brows and eyes.

"Brothers, huh? They look alike..."

"People from the entertainment industry? Never heard of them before..."

Before the words were finished, Jude Hawthorne snatched the camera from a paparazzo trying to sneak a picture and, shockingly, snapped it in front of him!

The paparazzo’s face turned pale with fear before he could say anything. Jude Hawthorne sneered and smashed his camera on the ground, "Sorry, excessive self-defense. I thought you were going to hit me."

"I was just holding up the camera!"

"Did I agree to let you shoot me?"

Jude Hawthorne sharply retorted, leaving the man speechless.

In the entertainment industry, everyone knows the paparazzi are there to take pictures of celebrities—besides, what privacy do stars have anyway? Aren’t celebrities supposed to be photographed? If no one’s taking pictures, it means they’re washed up!

Stars would definitely love someone to take photos!

That’s why they’re bold enough to sneak pictures or lay in wait without remorse.

For this reason, no one seemed to consider that even minor celebrities have the right to refuse, and their privacy is equally inviolable.

Iris Crawford watched Jude Hawthorne push aside those in his way and wink at him, "Hey, Bro, why are you here too?"

"Seraphina Colbert said so."

Jude Hawthorne took a deep breath; he thought Seraphina Colbert would never want to see him again, yet she actively called him.

James Chesterton had likely told his sister about the situation, so Seraphina Colbert...

Jude Hawthorne laughed self-deprecatingly. Seraphina Colbert, you called me, only to ask me to help Iris Crawford? You never considered anything between us; was Iris Crawford all you had on your mind?

Jude Hawthorne clenched his fist, but no matter his discontent, he came. He looked at the small dark room surrounded by bodyguards, "Is Patrick Pierce inside?"

Martin Hawthorne, being taciturn, didn’t say anything throughout, just clasped his hands, pushing his knuckles.

Yet, this motion scared the surrounding reporters two steps back.

"Scary... Who, who are these two guys!"

While everyone still pondered the identities of Martin Hawthorne and Jude Hawthorne, the brothers had already moved. The scene grew extremely chaotic, and someone even screamed, as Iris Crawford tried to approach, only to be pulled back by Noelle Rivers, "Careful not to get yourself caught in the crossfire!"

"I’m fine!"

Iris Crawford touched Noelle Rivers’ face, "You be careful, I’m capable of protecting myself. I’m going to help!"

Vera watched from the sidelines, making snide remarks, "Who do you think you are! Even if you manage to rescue Patrick Pierce from Vincent Paxton today, he’s already disgraced. Do you think he’ll make a comeback? What a curse, getting stuck with this male lead in my acting career, dragging me down. Now this, the show can’t even release!"

Iris Crawford had no time for Vera’s venomous thoughts and stormed into the crowd without looking back, as Noelle Rivers couldn’t hold her.

At that moment, Iris Crawford’s silhouette froze in Noelle Rivers’ eyes as an image—seeing such a woman for the first time, bold and fearless, overturning society for those around her, disregarding all consequences and costs...

One event after another... Iris Crawford, will you tear a hole through this darkness?

Will you transform from a synonym of "victim" into the soul of another group?

Inside, Patrick Pierce remained held by Vincent Paxton’s men, unaware of the outside situation. All exposed USBs and photos were seized and destroyed by Vincent Paxton’s people. Seeing the mess on the floor, Patrick Pierce knew he alone couldn’t resist the powers of capital.

Yet even so...

The door seemed to get slammed hard by someone.

Vincent Paxton looked surprised, directing his men to check things out, "You, go outside and ask if those reporters finished writing their pieces. Read every article, erase anything about me, and change it to blacken Patrick Pierce. Watch them send it out and let them go!"

The underling went to open the door, only to have it violently shaken before he reached it, then kicked open from outside!

The underling screamed as someone in a leather skirt and high heels strode in. He tried to run, but a hand stretched out, fingers curled into claws, seeing only the red nails before his face was grabbed and driven into the wall!

Vincent Paxton stood from the chair, "You vile woman!"

He started to call his men, not expecting Martin Hawthorne and Jude Hawthorne to walk in, "Mr. Paxton, apologies!"

The brothers bowed. Outside, the screams of bodyguards being thrown to the ground rang one after another.

Vincent Paxton forced a smile, "With so many journalists here, what do you intend to do?"

"Of course, to expose your true face!"

Iris Crawford pointed inward, "Vincent Paxton is holding Patrick Pierce; take pictures now! Also, Noelle Rivers, call the police!"

Call the police!

Noelle Rivers turned pale across the crowd, "I already called the police!"

"Call the police? If the police were of any use, Patrick Pierce wouldn’t be in such a miserable state!"

Patrick Pierce, held down, looked pale.

Iris Crawford, why are you here? You’re just asking for trouble...

Vincent Paxton laughed, showing his stained teeth, and upon hearing the words "call the police," looked as excited as a child seeing a toy, "Do you think the police will handle it? This is like pulling a single thread that will unravel everything..."

"Why wouldn’t they handle it!" Iris Crawford’s face was icy and beautiful, "I have absolute confidence in our country’s judicial system, and anyway, repairing Patrick Pierce’s documents and evidence is a piece of cake for us. Don’t think you’re safe and sound!"

Vincent Paxton thought he had it all under control, that no media outlet would dare report on his affairs, but unexpectedly, a young woman burst into the crowd with a camera, shouting, "Film it! I’ll write! I’ll expose!"

Vincent Paxton instinctively covered his face with his hand, a gesture Patrick Pierce had made countless times before.

In front of the camera by the bed, he was naked, painfully and desperately covering his face.

And now, Vincent Paxton was using the same gesture, angrily shouting, "Do you dare to help Patrick Pierce? From now on, no one will take over this show; everyone’s efforts will be in vain! Millions of investment, all because of you!"

"If there’s no investment, I’ll invest!" Another voice came from outside. Iris Crawford turned around to find Hector Sutton striding in, as if walking on a red carpet, "Our Sutton Family entertainment company didn’t just pick up a big IP investment for no reason. Don’t think you’re the only one in control here, you old fool!"

Upon hearing the words "old fool," Iris Crawford couldn’t help but laugh. Hector Sutton and Vincent Paxton’s companies were in the same field, and the two had been competing for a long time, so she called him to help bring down Vincent Paxton, knowing Hector Sutton would definitely want a piece of the action.

"How dare you!"

Vincent Paxton was about to charge forward, and Martin Hawthorne and Jude Hawthorne, with fierce eyes, were gearing up on either side, protecting Iris Crawford. She raised her chin high, her eyes cold and indifferent, fixed on Vincent Paxton’s face, "I dare! And why wouldn’t I? I order you to release Patrick Pierce now, or face prosecution and jail time!"

In all the land and among the vast humanity, she dares — there’s nothing Iris Crawford doesn’t dare!

If souls had colors, Iris Crawford’s soul would certainly be crimson red. Thick, scorching, astonishing!

******

When Lachlan Wyatt arrived, the police car had already restrained Vincent Paxton, who, despite his age, was still unwilling, spewing threats at the public police. Meanwhile, Auntie Faye’s daughter snapped photos rapidly, writing drafts faster than anyone else.

On this day, the news of Vincent Paxton’s capture spread wildly across various social circles, along with Patrick Pierce’s announcement to leave the industry.

Those bloody shameful pasts dug up had long been unable to be erased, nailed to his hard spine.

Everyone was shocked that Patrick Pierce had gone through such humiliation, and that such a perfect face had brought such devastating pain.

They were even more shocked that someone could so casually manipulate others, trample human rights, and disregard human dignity. We live in a society governed by law now — how can someone be so insane!

Best Actor Pierce, what kind of feelings have you carried on your journey to become the Best Actor?

Let the discussions continue endlessly; fame during life or after does not matter.

After being rescued, Patrick Pierce immediately announced his departure from the industry, leaving the crew without any attachment. This show would be the last of his acting career, and there would be no more Best Actor Pierce.

Behind him, countless people called his name, some were moved to tears by his experience, but Patrick Pierce turned a deaf ear and did not look back.

In the unnoticed corner, facing the evening breeze, touched by the setting sun, Lachlan Wyatt narrowed his eyes.

Next to him, William Thorne leaned against the car, smiling, "Isn’t Iris Crawford quite capable? At least she directly exposed things many people didn’t dare to make public."

"Thanks to those friends too."

Lachlan Wyatt extended his gaze, locking onto a tall, enchanting figure in the crowd.

Sensing someone’s gaze on her, Iris Crawford turned her head blankly to capture the source, but she could not find anyone.

Never mind, right now there were a bunch of reporters taking pictures of her, so Iris Crawford pulled Patrick Pierce next to her in front of everyone and forcefully flicked his forehead, "From now on, don’t handle these things alone!"

Patrick Pierce was unkind to her, "I’ve left the industry, I don’t need an image. Don’t touch me, I’m filthy!"

"The filth is all for saving you!"

The two walked side by side, like good buddies, not noticing Lachlan Wyatt’s gaze from afar.

"Are you interested in her?"

William Thorne patted Lachlan Wyatt’s back, "Not bad, you’ve got an eye for talent."

Lachlan Wyatt turned his head and sneered, "As if!"

"Then why did you rush to call me, asking for help to contact Auntie Faye?" William Thorne nudged Lachlan Wyatt with his elbow, smiling, "You’re stiff. Everyone knows your temper, don’t we? Helping quietly in the background — afraid Iris Crawford will mock you?"

Lachlan Wyatt scoffed, "None of your business, go home and take care of your kids."

"Envious, aren’t you? Some people are alone their whole life, unlike me, with a harmonious family and two kids..." William Thorne crossed his hands behind his head, "Oh? I just remembered, a friend of mine is still single. Why not let me introduce Iris Crawford to him, you know Cillian, right? Just happens to be my ex-rival; I’ll ask Iris to handle it internally—"

A kick flew toward him, and fortunately, William Thorne dodged quickly, or else the shoe print would have landed on his face, "What was that for!"

Lachlan Wyatt smiled without warmth, "I’ll slaughter that Cillian guy today!"