Chapter 3

The moment Beckett's name came up, the receptionist's eyes lit up. "Mr. Jobling is amazing. His documentary about Denbrov was incredible!"

She pulled up the documentary on her computer and played it for me. Beckett's name was prominently displayed under "Chief Producer" and "Chief Director".

"See? It's so well made. We all cried watching it!"

Those familiar images appeared before my eyes once again. Every photograph and every interview shown on the screen… I had risked my life to capture each one amid a hail of bullets.

They had cut out every shot of me on camera and replaced my narration with Beckett's voice. From beginning to end, the documentary contained no credit bearing my name.

At the top of the sponsor list was Spencer Group.

It could only be Gina, as she was the only person who knew the password to my computer.

I tore my eyes away from the video and drove straight to Spencer Group's headquarters.

Suddenly, the blaring horn of a large truck sounded behind me. It was deafening. My head started to ache again, and the familiar sound of explosions roared through my ears.

I covered my ears, and the steering wheel slipped out of my control. My car crashed into the guardrail by the roadside.

When Gina arrived, she looked especially displeased. She had intended to scold me, but when she saw how pale I was, she reached out and hugged me.

"It's okay now, Joseph. I'm here…"

I shoved her away and gripped her arm tightly. "Gina, why did you give my interviews to Beckett? You knew how many times I nearly died filming those materials. You knew how important they were to me…"

I had begun planning that documentary two years earlier. To capture the best footage, I had carried my camera through relentless gunfire.

I had been shot. I had been blown through the air by explosions. I had come within inches of death more times than I could count.

Every piece of footage in that documentary had been secured with my life.

Gina remained far calmer than I had expected. "Joseph, after your accident, everyone thought you were dead. I gave your materials to Beckett so he could finish the documentary in your place. What's wrong with that?"

"What about the credits?" I gritted my teeth before continuing. "Why isn't my name on it? Why does everyone say Beckett made the documentary?"

"Because you were already dead." Gina's voice was terrifyingly cold. "But Beckett was different. He needed a strong project to establish himself at the station. I invested in his project, and if he succeeded, it benefited Spencer Group as well."

I looked at her. Suddenly, she felt like a complete stranger to me.

She used to support me more than anyone else. But somewhere along the way, all she cared about was nothing but profit.

Gina forcibly shoved me into her car and drove me back to my new apartment.

Before leaving, she tossed me a bank card. "Be good, Joseph. Stay home and recover. I'll compensate you with however much money you want. Beckett's career is important. Don't interfere with it. That's what Mom and Dad want too."

I collapsed onto the floor of the empty living room and laughed.

The three of them had joined forces to hand everything I had over to Beckett. And it was all because I wasn't obedient enough.

I opened my laptop, logged into my cloud storage, and found the original video files. They contained my footage and my voice.

I edited the videos together, added detailed explanations, and uploaded everything online.

After posting them, I fell asleep immediately.

By the time I woke up the next morning, a storm had taken over the Internet.

There were thousands of private messages and comments. The videos had been shared over ten million times.

Beckett's comment section was flooded with insults, and even Spencer Group's official account was overwhelmed with criticism.

"So Beckett stole someone else's work?"

"What a scumbag! He stepped on his own best friend to get ahead."

"Joseph has been through so much…"