Possessed No More: The True Star Returns to Claim Her Throne-Chapter 37: True Face

Miles Ford, sitting across from him, assumed he wanted to know who had hired the number one paparazzo, Justin Locke, to tail him and take those photos, so he agreed.

"Alright, wait for my call."

"I have to be there."

His agent didn’t object. "Okay, I’ll contact him. You get ready."

「An hour later.」

The three of them met in a private room at a coffee shop.

It was Mr. Lee’s first time seeing the famous paparazzo in person. ’Damn,’ he thought. ’Seriously, damn!’

’With a face that handsome, how did he end up as a paparazzo?’

In contrast to the probing, guarded looks from the two men across from him, a flash of disgust crossed Justin Locke’s face as he glanced at Miles Ford.

"Mr. Locke, I never would have guessed you’d be so handsome without the beard! If you debuted in the entertainment industry, what chance would all those young idols have?"

The man was so young and handsome, yet he’d been hiding it all under a thick beard. Mr. Lee had always assumed the famous paparazzo was at least in his forties.

Justin Locke glanced at his watch. "Save the flattery and let’s get down to business. Twenty million. Not a cent less. You know that if I sell this information to someone else, I’ll get far more than that."

Mr. Lee’s expression froze. He had hoped to build some rapport with Justin Locke, but the man seemed even more unapproachable than before.

’Aren’t these things usually negotiable?’ Miles Ford wondered. ’How come it’s a fixed price with him?’

"Ten million! You can’t be this greedy. I may be an A-list star, but I’m not made of money."

Justin Locke chuckled. "I understand. After all, you need money to buy the silence of those little starlets."

The expressions of the two men across from him changed in unison. Mr. Lee’s looked particularly grim.

Miles Ford desperately wanted to dump his coffee over the head of the unfazed man sitting opposite him. ’Paparazzi should be wiped off the face of the earth!’

"Mr. Locke, we all work in the same industry. It’s best not to burn your bridges, don’t you think?"

Justin Locke leaned back in his chair, a mocking smile playing on his lips. "If I were one to burn bridges, everything your client has done would have been exposed long ago. Wouldn’t you agree, Agent Lee?"

Both Agent Lee and Miles Ford’s faces darkened.

Justin Locke ignored their sour expressions and continued, "I don’t like to beat around the bush. In the time I’m wasting here with you, I could be out making another few million.

Pay up, and you get the data. Don’t even think about haggling. Understood?"

’He was Justin Locke, the self-proclaimed number one paparazzo in the entertainment industry. He had his principles, even when it came to making money. They should have done their homework. No one ever got a discount from him. If he said twenty million, he meant twenty million. The price was non-negotiable.’

’And how did he arrive at twenty million?’

’He set the price however he damn well pleased!’

’Normally, dirt on an A-lister wouldn’t cost this much. But since this guy had offended the Little Fairy, he’d doubled the price on principle.’

The big star across from him gritted his teeth. "...Fine. Twenty million it is. But I want to know who’s behind this."

Justin Locke’s expression as he looked at Miles Ford was hard to read—a mix of mockery, amusement, and a hint of disgust. "That’ll cost you extra."

Miles Ford slammed his hand on the table in a rage. "Mr. Locke, don’t push it! I’m already paying you twenty million for the material, and now you want more money just to tell me who’s behind it?"

The three coffee cups on the table rattled, sending ripples across the dark liquid. Justin Locke, however, was completely unfazed. "Fine, don’t buy it then. You’re already spending twenty million, but you can’t part with another hundred thousand? You really are cheap."

Miles Ford’s face darkened once more.

To increase his public exposure, stay relevant, and land more jobs, Miles Ford often made public appearances with his wife to play the part of a loving couple. That’s right—he was married.

Netizens all believed they had a wonderful marriage.

But in private, he was a total philanderer. He would make a move on any good-looking, low-tier, unknown starlet he came across. Some tolerated it in exchange for career resources. For those who resisted, he had to use money to buy their silence and protect his reputation. As a result, his wife lived on a tight budget. Once, after she complained to a friend that he was a cheapskate, he came home and beat her.

’Justin Locke even knew about that.’ He was now starting to wonder if this top paparazzo even knew what brand of underwear he wore.

The twenty million was quickly transferred to Justin Locke’s designated account, carefully labeled as a "promotional fee." They also signed a contract stating that the twenty million was for Stellaris Studio to help Miles Ford with promotions. Both parties affixed their signatures.

Then, Miles Ford transferred another hundred thousand to Justin Locke, with the note "information fee."

Once the money was in, Justin Locke’s attitude softened considerably. He slid a USB drive across the table. "Mr. Ford, you must have had your suspicions, right? Of course it was your rival trying to take you down. I was paid to do a job.

But you should thank him. If it had been anyone else, they would have just handed this material over to their client. I may drive a hard bargain, but I’d never promise not to expose something, only to turn around and leak the data behind your back.

Take good care of this USB drive. If the information gets out now, it’s on you. I’m not responsible."

With that, he stood up and left.

Miles Ford snatched the USB drive, his grip so tight he nearly crushed it. "Fuck! So it was Heath Hughes! Does he think he’s so damn clean? Mr. Lee, I want you to go out and buy every piece of dirt you can find on him. He’s not getting away with this. I’ll make sure he pays!"

Mr. Lee patted his arm. "Calm down. Heath Hughes is coming after you because he’s afraid this show will make you even more popular. The top priority right now is to finish filming without any more complications. Leave the rest to me. I’ll take care of it."

’To ruin someone’s livelihood is like murdering their parents,’ he thought. Miles Ford was his highest-profile and most profitable client. If something happened to Mr. Ford, his own income would be slashed by more than half. That was simply not an option.

’Heath Hughes, is it? Just you wait.’

After leaving, Justin Locke got into his car and started humming happily, feeling not a shred of guilt for having played them. Heath Hughes and Miles Ford were two of a kind; it wouldn’t be an injustice if either of their careers went down in flames.

Of course, he was a paparazzo who kept his word. He had said the data wouldn’t leak from his end, and it wouldn’t. But if someone else were to release it... well, that had nothing to do with him.

He then called Riley Perry. It happened to be Riley’s break time. She was sitting under a large patio umbrella, a plate of exotic, pre-cut fruit on the small table beside her. Her slender legs swung back and forth as she ate and scrolled through her phone. When the call came in, she answered immediately.

"Miss Perry, I need your bank account number."

Riley Perry’s swinging legs stilled. "Why?"

"It’s a rule of the trade. The person who provides the information gets a seventy-percent cut of the profits."

In reality, the cut was a bit lower, but Riley Perry was his savior. Besides, he’d already earned more than enough and didn’t mind sparing the extra amount.

The young woman’s cheerful voice came through the phone. "Oh, really? I didn’t know that. You’re amazing! It hasn’t even been a full day, and you’ve already handled it."