The Best Movie Actor In Hollywood!

Chapter 510

Seeing Matthew’s silence, every eye in the audience fell on him. His apparent inability to offer a rebuttal made it easy to believe that everything Spike Lee had said was true.

As Spike continued his tirade, Matthew remained silent, seemingly unable to utter a single word in his own defense.

"Why isn't he saying anything?"

Gilbert was in the front row, but he could still hear the whispers rippling through the audience behind him.

"Is he... actually a racist?"

"We supported him for nothing!"

The voices reached Gilbert’s ears, each one a sharp reminder that he needed to do something. His gaze fell on Matthew, a mix of anger and confusion churning inside him. To think this was the kind of man he truly was!

At the thought, Gilbert’s hand slipped back into his bag, his fingers closing around the smooth, cool shell of an egg.

***

Back in Los Angeles, Vin Diesel switched on his television just in time to catch Spike Lee’s rambling accusations. It looked as if Lee had struck that bastard Matthew Horner speechless and was about to publicly condemn him as a racist.He was in a magnificent mood. He picked up a glass of wine, taking small, deliberate sips as he settled in to watch Horner’s downfall.

Matthew was keeping his composure for now, simply remaining silent, but Diesel was certain it wouldn’t be long before the man started scrambling to defend himself.

Given their long and bitter history—one in which Diesel himself had been personally entangled—the thought brought him immense satisfaction.

***

Inside their mansion, Jada Pinkett Smith looked relaxed. She turned to Will and said, "I told you he couldn’t handle Spike."

Watching the silent Horner on the screen, Will nodded. "When it comes to making a scene about race," he remarked with a trace of admiration, "there’s no one in Hollywood better than Spike."

It didn't matter if Spike was just stirring the pot. In the context of Hollywood, and given his race, his accusations were beyond question.

To question them would be tantamount to admitting you were a racist.

Will glanced back at the screen. "Looks like it's my turn to make a move," he told Jada.

To maximize his own gain, he knew he had to stand up and add his voice to the outcry, a move he could make as early as tomorrow.

It was just a shame that Spike had already claimed the biggest spotlight.

***

In a house in Westwood, the atmosphere was frozen. Everyone sat with lips pressed tight, silent.

"Brian, why hasn't Matthew defended himself?" Thompson asked.

"He's probably just waiting for the right moment," Brian replied. He knew Matthew’s assistant had gathered plenty of ammunition for this. "It’s not over yet."

***

On the brightly lit stage, Spike Lee watched Matthew with a nearly imperceptible smirk playing on his lips. His enemy was cornered. Victory was at hand.

Seventy, maybe eighty percent of what he’d said was true. The rest was lies, but they were so skillfully woven into the truth that they were nearly impossible to disprove. He wasn't afraid of Matthew’s rebuttal; in fact, he was waiting for it.

Whatever Horner said, Spike held the absolute advantage. He had a hundred ways to twist it, to turn it back on him.

This time, he would win.

The smirk on Spike’s lips widened, about to break into the triumphant, carefully rehearsed smile of a victor.

Matthew didn't take the bait. In the current climate, anything he said would just be met with a counter from Spike, and frankly, the back-and-forth was giving him a headache.

Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a flash drive.

"Miss Winfrey," he said, turning to Oprah. "I have some information I’d like to share."

Matthew held up the flash drive, then gestured toward the massive screen behind the stage. "Would it be possible to play the contents of this for everyone?"

Oprah had been conspicuously quiet since Spike Lee had taken the stage. She understood perfectly well how sensitive the subject was, and despite being a black woman, she wasn't about to blindly intervene and support Lee.

"Of course," Oprah replied, sensing that Matthew had an ace up his sleeve.

She gestured, and a stagehand immediately walked over. As Matthew handed him the flash drive, he leaned in and whispered a few quiet words. The staffer nodded and quickly carried the drive backstage.

What's he planning? Spike wondered.

He wasn't the only one; everyone watching at home was just as confused.

Spike glared at Matthew. "What is that?"

Playing for time while the crew prepped the file, Oprah chimed in, "Yes, Matthew, what is on there?"

Matthew, with his usual calm and affable demeanor, replied simply, "A few visual aids."

Then, his voice suddenly sharpened. "Because everything Director Lee has said so far is nothing but empty words!"

At that, the corners of Spike’s mouth twitched. He opened his mouth to retort.

But Matthew spoke over him, his voice loud and clear, his words quick. "After you see this, I think everyone will have a much clearer picture of who I am, and a better way to judge Director Lee’s claims."

Oprah’s expression remained impassive, but inwardly, she was impressed by Matthew’s strategy. Compared to Spike Lee, who was stumbling over his own words and relying on rhetoric to mislead the audience, Matthew was calm, collected, and seemed to have far greater composure.

With just a few short sentences, Matthew had outmaneuvered Spike Lee, presenting himself as the more serious and credible of the two. He was subtly guiding the audience to question Spike’s accusations, which, after all, were backed by nothing more than his own word.

With her years of experience and sharp instincts, Oprah had a feeling that tonight, Spike Lee was...

A producer's voice buzzed in the wireless earpiece hidden beneath her hair. Oprah immediately announced, "Let's take a look at the big screen."

Every eye in the studio, including Matthew’s and Spike Lee’s, turned in unison to the large screen on the back wall of the stage.

The screen lit up, and a series of photographs began to play, one after another, in a smooth slideshow.

First, a picture of Matthew on a premiere red carpet, signing an autograph for a young black woman. The next photo showed them hugging. Then another, of Matthew at an event with his arm around a black fan, both of them flashing a peace sign...

In the control room, the director ordered, "Cut to camera three."

A close-up of Spike Lee’s face filled the television screens at home.

His face was a blank mask, his expression stunned.

In the studio audience, Gilbert’s hand retreated from his bag. Would a man who interacted so warmly with his black fans, even hugging them, really be the type to discriminate against them?

He began to look at Spike Lee in a new light.

Spike had spent all that time talking, but his words felt hollow compared to this visual evidence. Hearing something secondhand was nothing compared to seeing it with your own eyes.

The images continued to cycle, not too slow, but just fast enough for everyone to see them clearly. The photos were followed by a few short video clips of Matthew interacting with more black fans. No matter how you looked at it, there was no distance between him and them.

The final video clip showed a hospital room. Matthew was hugging a small, bald black child, lifting him into his arms and saying something. The audio was faint, but his words were clearly meant to be encouraging.

The hospital room, the child’s bald head—it immediately brought to mind one word: leukemia.

As the video ended, Oprah was the first to speak. "Was that a child with leukemia?"

"Yes," Matthew nodded, pointing to the date displayed on the screen. "He’s a patient I visited at a California medical center back in June. He was not even six years old."

He said nothing more. In a situation like this, a picture was worth more than a million words.

To say more would only make it seem calculated.

Spike Lee, for his part, was silent. He’d never seen any news reports about this, and he found himself wondering why Horner wouldn't publicize this sort of thing.

The photos with fans were one thing—stars needed fans, and that could easily be dismissed as PR—but that last video...

How was he to know that Matthew hadn't wanted to publicize it, that he’d been holding this material back for a moment just like this?

Oprah seized the moment. "Director Lee, do you still suspect Matthew of being a racist?"

Spike didn’t hesitate. "Of course I do."

He shot back, "These Hollywood stars are experts at playing to the camera. Isn't it obvious this is all just for show?"

"Miss Winfrey," Matthew suddenly interjected, cutting Spike off. "Please, have your crew continue playing the files on the drive."