Lucas Wood was terrified, his heart nearly stopping. After a slight sigh of relief, he completely lost control.
"Damn it!"
"Anson, don't ever do that again! I just called you three times, and you didn't answer any of them. Even Edgar didn't pick up. I thought something happened to you. I had a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. By the time you answered the fourth call, you seemed completely out of it. What the hell happened?"
"Damn it, are you okay? Are you really alright?"
A barrage of questions came pouring in from the other end of the line, not leaving Anson any space to respond.
It was rare to see Lucas lose his composure.
But Anson felt a warm sensation in his heart, a faint smile playing on his lips as he quietly listened to Lucas vent his frustrations.
"Wait, is it those paparazzi again? Digging through your trash? Or did they break into your place?"
"Give me a list. I'll have lawyer letters sent out to them tomorrow."
"And you need to move. Your backyard is too open, anyone can just walk in. It wasn't a problem before, but now those paparazzi are getting more and more brazen."
As Lucas's concerns grew increasingly outlandish, Anson had to interrupt, "And if I move, are you going to pay for it?"
Lucas shot back immediately, "Of course I'm paying. With your current income, Beverly Hills is just a place to window-shop."
Anson burst out laughing, "Luca... Luca. Calm down. Take a deep breath. I'm fine. Everything is fine. The paparazzi haven't been bothering me. Edgar and Eve have shifted their attention. No one in Hollywood cares about a poor, jobless actor like me right now."
Lucas caught the self-deprecating tone in Anson's voice and chuckled helplessly, "Yeah, right. Poor little actor. When's your next movie coming out? I'll buy out the theater to support you."
"Ha!" Anson laughed outright. "Thanks, boss."
Lucas shook his head lightly, "So, if nothing's wrong, what was going on with you just now?"
Anson: …
Lucas: "Don't try to dodge the question. You think I've forgotten? I haven't. Changing the subject might work with your parents, but not with me."
Anson sighed softly, "I was just reading a script, getting into the character a bit, and then you interrupted me. Now what should I do?"
Lucas wasn't buying Anson's playful excuse, "Acting? Why take it so seriously? Just be a pretty face like Brad Pitt. Show up, look handsome, strike a few poses, and make some easy money. Why bother with all the hard work? Leave that to the character actors like Dustin Hoffman or Jack Nicholson."
Anson burst out laughing, "Luca, do you think it's okay to mock Oscar-winning actors like that?"
Lucas didn't care in the slightest, "Believe me, they're more aware of it than I am. That's why they put in so much effort into honing their craft."
Pausing for a moment, Lucas continued, "Anson, promise me you won't push yourself too hard. Look at Leonardo DiCaprio—he always seems so burdened. For God's sake, there are practically lines etched into his forehead now."
At this point in time, Leonardo hadn't yet become the emblem of brooding middle-aged roles that he would in the future, but he was still taking on parts like *The Man in the Iron Mask* and *The Beach* to shed his *Titanic* image—roles that involved either masking his face or disfiguring himself.
The smile lingered on Anson's lips as he finally managed to contain his laughter, "Luca, I'm a little disappointed. Don't you believe in my acting talent?"
He expected Lucas to hesitate or falter, but without missing a beat, Lucas replied, "Of course not."
Anson: ???
Lucas rolled his eyes. "I've seen how you look from childhood till now. No matter how you act, it always looks the same to me. I honestly can't imagine those women screaming that you're their dream guy. God, have they seen you when you're being lazy in bed? It's not sexy at all."
That's a big brother for you.
But then he switched gears. "Besides, a real actor shouldn't be limited by their appearance. Even if you're a handsome guy or a beautiful woman, the role can still be convincing. So, there's no need to let yourself turn into a ragged mess."
For a moment, it was hard to tell whether Lucas was criticizing or complimenting him.
Anson, usually quick-witted, found himself at a loss for words in front of Lucas, but he couldn't help but laugh. "Alright, alright, I get it. So, what's the real reason you called me? Let's talk business."
Lucas slapped his forehead. "Right, business."
"Investment."
"I think it's a good time to buy in large quantities. Are you still planning to buy all of Apple?"
So that's what this is about.
Anson blinked. "Luca, I trust your professional judgment. The only thing I understand is that Apple is good for long-term investments, so we don't need to worry about short-term fluctuations. As for the short-term stocks, when to buy and when to sell, I'll leave that to your judgment."
"Oh, and the payment for the Dior endorsement should have come through. You can use that for the investment. I'll give you the account password later."
Lucas wasn't surprised at all. "So, you're just planning to sit back and relax, huh?"
Anson wasn't having it. "So, do you want me to micromanage instead?"
Lucas shook his head slightly. "I just want you not to leave everything to me. Even though I'm your brother, I can still make mistakes, I can still make the wrong decisions, and I can still have my own selfish desires."
Anson was stunned.
Right, why hadn't he learned from past mistakes?
In their previous life, they trusted their father without question, letting him control the family's entire financial situation, which eventually led to their downfall together.
So, was he making the same mistake this time, without even a hint of caution?
Is that stupidity?
Even though he realized this, strangely enough, Anson didn't feel resistant or regretful. Everything felt so natural.
Maybe it's because Lucas gave him the confidence that even if he makes mistakes again, this time, it won't be like the last life—
Lucas wouldn't run away, and he wouldn't disappear. They would face it together.
On the other end of the line, there was silence again. Lucas frowned. "Anson?"
"Yeah, I'm here," Anson nodded gently. "Luca, I trust you."
Lucas could feel the warmth and weight behind those words, gently striking his heart.
Then, Anson continued, "When we change houses next time, I'm counting on you to pay in full."
Obviously, it was a joke, lightly pressing on Lucas's shoulders, and he could feel the weight. "Alright."
The call didn't last much longer; Lucas still had work to do, so they hung up.
Anson sat quietly in his seat—
Things seemed the same as in the previous life, yet somehow entirely different.
It was hard to tell because life is full of uncertainties, and until things happen, no one can predict what lies ahead. But this time, he could move forward with more determination and confidence.
After a long while, Anson pulled his thoughts back from the sunset and continued reading the script. The same words now held a different warmth.
However, Anson had been serious just now. He was indeed delving into the art of acting, and it felt like he was truly touching the essence and soul of performance for the first time.
So, is this what they call method acting?