Fable Weaver
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DOS Ch-268
🕑 Added 2025-08-01 21:55:31 +0000 UTC@FireStarter12: WTF!? Someone just tried to kill Troy in his own home! It’s all over the news… 😭 This is beyond messed up. I get that people are mad at him, but this doesn’t mean they can try to kill him.
@LunaBliss: OMG! I hope he’s okay. I can’t believe our countrymen would stoop so low as to attempt murder on a teenager who just made some money.
@SereneDreamer: When will people grow up and get a life? I hate those people who take the law into their own hands. If you have such a problem with the system, go after the politicians who leave those loopholes, not a kid.
@NovaKnight: True. Irrespective of what he may or may not have done, this is beyond reason. That assailant should be made an example.
@PatAttack: The guard nearly died—just for doing his job. I hope people see where this kind of unfiltered rage leads. The problem isn’t just Troy. It’s the entire system.
@LexiWithAnX: No one should get shot. No one should die. But maybe Troy Armitage should ask himself why someone was that desperate and angry in the first place.
@PixelWarrior77: Fuck you and your ilk @LexiWithAnX. It’s people like you who make others intolerant. At least try to understand the whole picture before blaming one person. Did anyone else thought that it was not just a coincidence that Epstein died the same day when someone tried to kill Troy?
@DarkMatter69: I didn’t want to get into this debate, but this is beyond madness. The worst partis that our politicians are fueling it. A senator literally encouraged people to stop watching Troy’s films and to “create anarchy.” That tweet has been quietly deleted now that someone tried to kill him. And that same senator, @SenatorClarissaMaynard, has gone radio silent. Why? Because it no longer fits her narrative. Shame on you. It is rather weird that Epstein died the same day as Troy.
[Image: Screenshot of a now-deleted tweet from @SenatorClarissaMaynard]
(Break)
As soon as I stepped back into the house, I was engulfed in hugs and kisses from my parents and Scarlett. The warmth of home hit me instantly, but so did the weight of their concern.
“Thank God my baby is alright,” Mum cried, wrapping her arms around me in a desperate hug. Her voice trembled as she clung to me like she was afraid I might disappear again. “I nearly had a heart attack when I heard about that… attack.” Her voice cracked as she choked on a sob.
I gently patted her back to calm her, murmuring that I was okay.
Scarlett stood close by, holding my hand tightly. She didn’t say much, but the way she gripped me spoke volumes. She was just as shaken—maybe even more so.
Dad stood a little further back, arms crossed and eyes clouded with worry. He didn’t rush in for a hug, but his concern was no less evident. His posture, his silence, the way he kept glancing at me—they all told me he was holding something back, something he needed to talk to me about in private.
After an hour of reassuring Mum and Scarlett that I was fine, I finally slipped away with Dad to my study.
Once we were inside, he closed the door behind us and said, “I got a call from Jeff Bewkes.”
I nodded slightly, waiting for more. Jeff Bewkes had taken over as CEO of Time Warner after Dick Parsons stepped down. Any call from him wasn’t going to be casual.
“Bewkes has postponed the release of [Deathly Hallows] from 2009 to 2010. The date isn’t finalized yet, but depending on how public perception of you plays out, it could be shifted further.”
“Fuck,” I muttered. My heart sank. 2009 was supposed to be the year I ruled the box office with both [Avatar] and [The Deathly Hallows]. Now that dream was slipping through my fingers.
Dad hesitated, then continued, “That’s not all. I also got a call from Jim Gianopulos. He didn’t want to postpone the film, but he’s asked that you refrain from mentioning [Avatar] in any interviews, public appearances, or anything else for now. They’ll figure out the marketing approach next year when the film’s closer to release.”
I didn’t need anyone to spell it out for me. “They want me to distance myself from [Avatar] so my bad press doesn’t affect the film.”
Dad grimaced, then nodded. “Look at it from their side, son. They’ve poured hundreds of millions into these movies. Both [Avatar] and [The Deathly Hallows] are among the most expensive films ever made, each with a budget over $250 million. That kind of investment can’t afford any unnecessary risks. As your father, I’m furious this is happening to you. But as a producer, I get why they’re playing it safe. That’s probably why they called me instead of your manager—they didn’t want to burn bridges with you, especially not with the kind of financial clout you now have.”
I gave a slow nod. I didn’t like it, but I couldn’t blame them. I’d bitten off more than I could chew, and now I was facing the consequences. As a producer myself, I knew I would’ve done the same thing if one of my actors was at the center of a global controversy like this.
“There was one more thing…” Dad whispered warily. “About Jeffrey Epstein. He died the same day as someone attacked you. I have set my top investigators to find out the truth behind the matter.”
“You think they could be connected?” I asked worriedly.
Dad shook his head, “I don’t know, but keep in mind that you’ve angered some very powerful people on both sides of Atlantic, so I won’t be surprised if that were true. Promise me that from now on, your security would always be your priority and you will not go anywhere without Paolo and his team.”
I nodded. “I promise.”
Leaving the study, I stepped out for a walk around the property. I needed air, space, and a moment to think, and the mini-lake behind my castle was perfect to clear the mind. Just when I finally felt the quiet beginning to settle around me, my phone started ringing.
I groaned as I pulled the phone from my pocket. Ever since the news about the attack had leaked, my phone hadn’t stopped ringing. Calls had been coming in from all directions: friends, colleagues, reporters, distant acquaintances. I let most of them go to voicemail. I didn’t need another person telling me how “worried” they were.
But this time, the name on the screen caught me off guard: Christopher Nolan. He was one person I have been wanting to talk to for a while anyway.
“Hi, Chris,” I said, keeping my tone casual as I picked up.
“Troy, I hope you’re okay?” he asked, concern evident in his voice. “I just heard about the attack on your LA home.”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Back in London now. Much safer here,” I replied.
“Thank Lord,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
A pause settled between us, heavy but not awkward. Finally, I broke it. “Evan told me you wanted to talk to me about something?”
“It can wait,” he said gently. “You’re going through a lot right now.”
“I could use a distraction,” I said, not hiding how much I needed it.
He sighed. “Have you read the script for [Inception]? My next film?”
A smile crept onto my face. “Yeah. It’s great.”
[Inception] was his masterpiece, at least in my opinion. A bold, cerebral film that bent the rules of storytelling and reality. For him to de-age the lead character so I could play the role had been an incredible gesture. The story didn’t flow quite as seamlessly as the version I knew he originally envisioned, but I had planned to work with him closely on that once my schedule cleared.
“Emma and I were going over it again,” Chris said, “and we both felt that the protagonist should be older. I’ve always wanted to explore the emotional pull of a parent’s love for their children, and we think this story could reflect that really well. Dom doing everything for his kids—it fits into that theme perfectly. What do you think?”
I closed my eyes, feeling the sting of realization. He wasn’t pitching a new idea. He was gently letting me go.
“You’re firing me,” I said plainly.
“No,” he said quickly. “I actually have another role in mind for you—Arthur. He’s Dom’s partner, and he’ll have almost equal screen time. You’d still be the co-lead. In fact, I’ve envisioned most of the major action scenes around Arthur.”
It was a kind offer on the surface, but I knew better. Filmmakers used this language all the time to ease actors into supporting roles. Whether or not he was being honest, it didn’t matter. Dom was the heart of the story. Arthur, no matter how well-written or action-packed, wasn’t.
Had he offered me that role from the start, I might’ve said yes without hesitation. But now, it felt like a demotion, and I couldn’t bring myself to accept it. Maybe it was pride. Maybe ego. But I couldn’t ignore the way it made me feel.
“Have you already rewritten the script?” I asked.
“Not yet,” he replied. “I wanted to talk to you first before making any changes.”
“If you truly feel this is the better direction, go for it,” I said, keeping my voice level. “But I won’t play Arthur. After everything that’s happened, I need to take a break from work. Filming [Inception] right after [Harry Potter] would be too much. I’ll still produce the film, but I won’t act in it.”
The lies came easier than I had expected. I hesitated for only a second, before adding, “Same goes for the Joker origin movie. If you want, you can merge that storyline into the sequel for [The Dark Knight]. But I won’t be doing a standalone now.”
Chris didn’t say anything for a while, letting the silence settle between us like a fog. Eventually, he spoke.
“Are you sure about this, Troy?”
“Yup,” I said firmly, even though he couldn’t see me nod. “I’ll ask Dad to get in contact with you and start pre-production for [Inception]. Talk to you later.”
Before he could respond, I ended the call.
Within just a few days of the crisis erupting, I had lost not one but two major films: [Joker] and [Inception]. While I could have fought to keep [Joker] alive if I really wanted to, I didn’t. I was too angry with Warner Bros. for their lack of faith in me. The same went for Fox, though I had no immediate projects with them, so it didn’t sting quite as much.
What I had told Nolan was still partly true, but I only realized it after disconnecting the call. I needed a break from everything. From work, from press, from the endless noise of showbiz. I needed space to focus on myself. The end of [Harry Potter] could be the start of the discovery of new me.
With my mind made up, I looked up at the sky, which had turned dusky, streaked with the faint golds and purples of early evening. I made my way back to my bedroom. The soft lighting inside cast long shadows on the wooden floor, and the air was still and peaceful. Scarlett stood in the center of the room, her arms extended and her body in motion, completing a slow, graceful pirouette. She was probably training for [Black Swan], judging by her posture and the intensity in her eyes.
She stopped as soon as she noticed me. Without a word, she closed the distance between us and wrapped me in the tightest hug I’d received since arriving home.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she whispered, her breath warm against my ear. “I…was scared.”
“I’m fine, Scar,” I said gently, rubbing the back of her head with a calming hand. “Nothing happened to me. Poor Tim was the one who got shot.”
Though he was going to make a full recovery, I had already instructed my accounting team to send him a one-million-dollar bonus. It was the least I could do after what he’d endured for protecting me.
“You know,” I said softly, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes, “I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to take a break from me—at least temporarily. It would give you some breathing room from all this attention.”
She stepped away from the hug, but not out of affection. Her eyes narrowed, and she stared at me like I had gone crazy.
“Have you lost your mind?” she snapped. “How can you even suggest that?”
“I’ve read the comments online,” I said with a grimace. “They’re brutal. And they’re not kind to you either.”
“Fuck them!” she growled. “I don’t care about some brat typing behind the safety of a keyboard. I care about you.” She jabbed her index finger into my chest to punctuate every word. “So don’t you dare try to push me away to protect me. You didn’t do anything wrong. You have every right to be a little selfish. If anyone else were in your position, they would’ve done the exact same thing.”
Her words lit something inside me. A spark. A fire I hadn’t realized had gone out. Somewhere deep down, I had started internalizing the hate, the accusations, the noise. I was beginning to believe the twisted version of myself painted by the media and strangers online.
I pulled her toward me and kissed her, firmly and deeply. I poured every ounce of gratitude, love, and devotion I felt for her into that one kiss. I needed her to know how much she meant to me.
When we finally broke apart, far too soon for my liking, I rested my forehead against hers, breathing heavily.
“I guess it’s time I addressed the world,” I whispered. “And told them exactly what I think about this financial crisis.”
(Break)
Mason was excited. It was his wife's birthday today, and he had planned a sweet surprise: a homemade chocolate cake. Normally, such a gesture wouldn’t have been possible as both he and Kelly worked exhausting, high-stress jobs that left them with little time for anything else. But today was different. His employer, Lehman Brothers, had declared bankruptcy, and Mason, along with thousands of others, had been let go.
Many of his colleagues were drowning in despair, but not Mason. He had always believed that life came in waves—sometimes crushing, sometimes lifting you higher than you imagined. This was just one of those crashing moments. He was certain he would bounce back stronger.
Pushing those thoughts aside, he sat down at the kitchen counter, opened YouTube on his tablet, and typed in “easy chocolate cake recipe.” But before he could scroll, the very first video on his homepage caught his attention.
The thumbnail showed Troy Armitage, looking distressed, his face partially lit in somber tones. Beneath the image, the caption read:
Lehman Brothers Collapse Was All My Fault…
Troy Armitage ✅ | 5M views | 1 day ago
Mason frowned. Having worked inside the very institution that collapsed, he knew with certainty that Troy Armitage wasn’t the one to blame. The meltdown had been orchestrated by years of reckless decision-making from the bank’s leadership. People had simply found a convenient scapegoat in Troy because he had made money off the collapse. As if anyone else in his position wouldn’t have done the same.
Shaking his head, Mason scrolled past the video and searched for a baking tutorial instead. But before it could load, an ad began to play.
He groaned. As much as he loved YouTube, he hated the ads.
This one featured Troy Armitage himself.
“I know ads are annoying,” Troy said, appearing in a clean studio setup, “but they’re necessary to keep this platform free. Just this once, we’re offering you a chance to try YouTube Premium—on us. Click here, watch the full video that appears, and you’ll get one month free.”
Mason raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t sure if this was clever marketing or something more. Was it political? A statement piece? He didn’t know. But the idea of a free month of Premium was tempting. Curiosity overtook him, and he clicked.
The link redirected him back to the very video he had skipped—the one titled “Lehman Brothers Collapse Was All My Fault…”
Comments
Vilas Boas
Well, now that he’s on a break i guess that he can follow Scarlett to wherever she’s going to record the movies…
JL
Damn it I wanted him to do Inception
