Tycoon Actor C477

Jennifer was still visibly shaken. No matter how much time passed, the sound of gunfire echoed in her mind. She kept glancing at the windows, eyes scanning shadows, flinching at sudden noises.

Lucas stayed close, never straying far from her side. He gently squeezed her hand. “It’s alright now,” he said softly. “You’re safe.”

“I know…” Jennifer nodded slowly. “I’m not fragile, but… what we just went through—that was insane.”

Lucas's expression darkened. “Yeah. It was.” His voice dipped into a low, quiet anger. “Someone planned this. And I intend to find out who.”

He didn’t say it aloud, but names had already begun circling in his head. People he’d crossed. People with power. People with a motive.

It was only a matter of time before one of them struck.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

Simon stepped in with two uniformed NYPD officers. “Boss, the police are here for the report.”

Lucas gave Jennifer’s shoulder a gentle rub before standing up. “I’ll be right back.”

He followed the officers into a quiet side room. The process was standard—formal questions, digital statements, and details about the incident. Lucas answered everything calmly and clearly.

When it wrapped up, the lead investigator offered a firm nod. “We’ll do everything in our power to track them down, Mr. Knight.”

Lucas returned the nod. “I’m counting on you.”

But deep down, he knew better. He’d hire his own investigators. Discreet. Efficient. And not bound by red tape.

As the officers exited, a few remained in the building for added security—after all, this wasn’t just any celebrity. It was Lucas Knight.

---

Later that night, after Jack and Shawn were stabilized and cleared for release, the group left the hospital under tight security. Police escorts guided them through side routes and blocked traffic.

Instead of returning to their homes, Lucas took Jennifer straight to the Aman New York, one of the city’s most exclusive and discreet luxury hotels. It was a place where billionaires disappeared into private penthouses and paparazzi didn’t dare linger.

Inside their suite, Jennifer sat on the edge of the bed, nervously fidgeting with her fingers. Her eyes were glassy.

“I didn’t think coming to New York instead of L.A. would end like this,” she murmured.

Lucas sank onto the couch across from her. “I thought it’d be the safer choice. No reporters waiting at the tarmac. No cameras at the gate. New York's quieter about this stuff.”

He exhaled. “Guess I was wrong. Someone knew.”

Jennifer looked at him, unsettled. “Do you think it’s because of everything you’ve done? The people you’ve exposed?”

Lucas didn’t answer right away.

Then, quietly, “Yeah. And it was only a matter of time.”

A long silence fell between them, only broken by the faint hum of the city below—a city that had welcomed them in secrecy, but couldn’t protect them from the storm that was clearly coming.

---

Unbeknownst to Lucas and Jennifer, the hospital they’d just left would soon become the source of a new headache.

One of the night staff, Felicia, a senior receptionist at the front desk, had noticed them earlier.

She had a reputation for gossip, and tonight, her curiosity was on high alert. She’d seen Lucas Knight and Jennifer arrive with wounded men, and when she heard whispers from other staff about gunshot injuries and a bullet-riddled SUV, her instincts flared.

On her break, Felicia snuck into the hospital parking lot. Sure enough, the black SUV remained there, unattended under the dim yellow lights. The rear windows were cracked and spider-webbed with bullet holes.

Not long after, a police-contracted tow truck arrived to retrieve the vehicle for forensic investigation—but Felicia already had what she needed.

She had snapped several photos on her old phone. One of the SUV. Another of the bullet-damaged window. And even—though poorly lit and rushed—a blurry shot she’d secretly taken earlier of Lucas and Jennifer in a room, caught through a barely cracked door.

By the time she got home, she was typing into the TMZ tip submission form. She didn’t attach all the photos—just one.

In the message box, she typed:

“Lucas Knight and Jennifer Lawrence came into our hospital late tonight with two injured men. From what I overheard, there was a shooting. The black SUV had bullet holes—look at the attached pic. I have more photos, including one from outside their room. Interested? I want a reward first. $100 for a batch. Contact me at this number. Bank info attached.”

Felicia hit send, her heart racing. She didn’t care about ethics or privacy. In her mind, she saw dollar signs.

And this time, she wasn’t going to waste a scoop on gossip.

She was going to cash in.

---

At the TMZ newsroom, the late-night staff sat hunched at their desks, scrolling through an endless stream of “Got a Tip?” emails—most of them worthless.

“Another drunk claiming he saw Kim K buying gas in Nevada,” one muttered, deleting the message with a click.

“I got one about Taylor Swift being a lizard,” someone else groaned. “God, people are bored.”

"Here's one about The Rock being in a bar fight with Vin Diesel... in 1999."

“Some dude just sent a picture of a squirrel and said it looks like Kanye,” another muttered.

“Can we please get one decent tip tonight?” Another sighed, leaning back in his chair, eyes glazed from boredom.

A few chuckles went around. The office buzzed with quiet, familiar cynicism.

Kurt, leaning back in his chair with a soda can in hand, grumbled, “Do people think we’re Reddit?”

Just then, a sharp yelp cut through the monotony.

“Holy—guys! Come here!” Marvin shot up from his desk, eyes wide. “It’s about Lucas Knight!”

That name alone was enough. Chairs scraped as the team rushed to gather around his monitor.

Marvin read aloud:

“Lucas Knight and Jennifer Lawrence came into our hospital late tonight with two injured men...”

“...Interested? I want a reward first. $100 for a batch. Contact me at this number. Bank info attached.”

They stared at the grainy image of the black SUV—glass fractured, metal scratched, bullet holes visible near the door frame.

Kurt narrowed his eyes. “That looks like the SUV Lucas uses in NYC.”

“I’ve seen it in LA too,” another chimed in. “His team drives that exact model.”

“Could be fake,” someone else muttered. “Could be anyone’s SUV.”

“But the timing checks out,” Marvin said, already leaning forward, fingers poised over his keyboard. “He vanished after the Grammys. People were speculating. No appearances. No statements. If this is real…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. The dollar signs were already dancing in his eyes.

“I’m sending the hundred,” Marvin declared, opening his banking app. “If this pans out, we break the biggest story of the month.”

“Marvin’s serious!” someone laughed.

“He didn’t even blink.”

“I would’ve Venmo’d it with a blindfold on,” Marvin grinned.

As the room buzzed with anticipation, Marvin hit send—and the chase for the next viral headline officially began.

---

By 2:58 AM, Neil arrived at the Aman New York with a freshly hired security detail. He wasted no time, heading straight to Lucas and Jennifer’s suite. When he entered, he found the couple still awake, seated by the window with cups of coffee in hand. The tension in the room was thick, their faces tired but composed.

‘Damn…’ Neil thought, heart heavy. ‘They’ve really been through hell tonight.’

“I know it’s a dumb question,” he said as he stepped inside, “but... are you two alright?”

Lucas gave a dry chuckle. “Aside from nearly getting killed? We’re doing great.”

Jennifer cracked a small smile. “We’re okay, Neil. Just shaken, that’s all.”

Neil exhaled in relief, walking in and taking a seat across from them. “I flew out as fast as I could.”

They nodded, and the conversation shifted into quieter tones, as Neil gently asked about the attack and their condition.

Meanwhile, across the city, TMZ was moving in the opposite direction—toward chaos.

At exactly 3:00 AM, Marvin and his team were in full scramble mode. The tip from Felicia was too good to ignore, but they needed confirmation before going public.

“We need to verify this,” Marvin muttered, pacing. “Get someone over to NYPD, but keep it subtle.”

One staffer made the call, pretending to be a reporter fishing for info.

“Any unusual celebrity-related incidents tonight?” she asked casually. “Gunshots, maybe? Just heard rumors.”

But the NYPD was tight-lipped. At the precinct, an officer frowned as he hung up the phone. “Why the hell does the reporters already know about the attack?”

Another officer grunted. “These guys are like roaches with radar.”

Back at TMZ, one of the junior editors gasped. “I found it! Facebook Live post—black SUV, shot up in NYC. Timestamp matches.”

“Save it.” Marvin leaned over the screen. “That’s the same model Lucas uses.”

“Still no NYPD confirmation?” he asked.

His colleague shook her head. “They’re stonewalling us. No one’s cracking.”

Marvin’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Then we buy it.”

And they did. At 3:32 AM, an off-duty investigator—likely someone close to the case—finally caved after being promised $10,000 and complete anonymity. He didn’t say much, but it was just enough.

“That SUV belongs to Lucas Knight. He was the target. That’s all I’ll say.”

That was all Marvin needed.

By 3:45 AM, while most of the country slept, TMZ pushed out the headline:

BREAKING: Lucas Knight & Jennifer Lawrence Targeted in NYC Shooting — Exclusive Details Inside

CNN, ABC, and the others were still asleep. But the internet? The internet was just waking up.

---

The news drop hit like a thunderclap.

TMZ’s midnight report jolted the internet. “What the actual fuck? Is this real!?” one user posted, echoing the shock rippling across online platforms. Within minutes, netizens were swarming the article—staring at blurry photos of Lucas and Jennifer in a hospital room, taken through a cracked door, alongside clearer images of a bullet-riddled black SUV and grainy footage from a Facebook livestream.

It didn’t take long to go viral.

Texts were flying. Calls were made. Some were waking friends and family out of deep sleep.

“Unbelievable!”

“Wait, they were shot at?”

“I hope they’re okay…”

“Is Lucas and Jennifer alive?”

Across the U.S., newsroom phones rang like alarms. One groggy journalist groaned as he fumbled for his phone, blinking at the name flashing on the screen: Chief.

“It’s four in the damn morning…” he muttered before answering.

“What took you so long?” the editor-in-chief barked. “Get to the newsroom—now. We’ve got breaking news!”

“Huh? What kind of—”

“No time. Move!”

Click.

Similar calls went out across the country—CNN, NBC, ABC, even ESPN. Newsrooms lit up at 4 AM like emergency command centers. Sleepy producers, editors, and reporters all stared at the same stunned headline: Lucas Knight and Jennifer Lawrence involved in targeted shooting?

It sounded like fiction—until they saw the footage.

Cameramen were dispatched. Anchors called in early. One reporter whispered, “How the hell did a gossip outlet beat all of us?”

While major networks scrambled, TMZ had already begun broadcasting live. Their scoop forced the others to catch up in real time.

By dawn, news trucks lined the road where the attack occurred. Journalists crowded the scene, shoving mics into crime tape, desperate for statements. Others rushed to the hospital where Lucas’s driver and security detail had been treated. The sun hadn’t even risen, but the sidewalks were already packed with flashing lights, reporters, and curious bystanders.