Tycoon Actor C545 (Patreon)

Returning from New York to LA was easy enough. What wasn't easy was the image that stayed with them — Daciana's face when they said their goodbyes. That quiet, uncertain look she'd given them from the doorway, like she wasn't entirely sure what was supposed to happen next.

It lingered. Two days back home, and they were still carrying it.

"I hope that girl will be okay while we're away for a while," Jennifer sighed, standing at the kitchen counter.

Lucas was beside her, working on the steaks. "Don't worry. I've got Gramps handling the paperwork. The adoption will move."

"I just couldn't wait to finally bring her home," Jennifer said quietly.

Lucas smiled at that — she hadn't planned on feeling this way, and here she was. They cooked and talked about Daciana for a while longer. By the time the food was done, Jack appeared in the doorway and gave Lucas a nod.

Kobe and Maggie had arrived.

They greeted them at the entrance. Maggie stepped inside and stopped, the same way she always did — neck craning back, eyes going up to the chandelier, across the open floor, all the way down. "I really can't get used to this," she said. "Every time. Your house is so big, man."

Lucas just looked at her.

"I wish I could afford something like this one day. I really do."

"With Demon Hunters doing what it's doing, you're already killing it," Kobe said.

"I agree," Lucas said. "You could probably afford one right now if you wanted."

Maggie looked at him like he'd personally offended her. "Are you serious? The government alone took one look at what Demon Hunters made and threw a party." She waved her hand. "If the sequel works out, maybe a few more projects after that — sure, I could get somewhere decent eventually. Not this." She gestured around the foyer. "This is a whole other universe. But something good, yeah."

Lucas nodded thoughtfully. "You know what, I'll sell this place to you. Special discount."

Maggie lit up. "Really?"

"One percent off."

She stared at him. "...One percent."

"That's a discount."

"Lucas, I still couldn't afford it with a fifty percent discount." She crossed her arms. "No fun."

Lucas and Kobe laughed as Lucas led them toward the dining room. The smell hit Kobe before they even cleared the doorway, and his whole face changed.

"Wow." He looked at the table. "You cooked?"

"Jennifer did most of it," Lucas said.

Jennifer came around the corner. "He stood at that stove for an hour. Do not listen to him."

"I seasoned the steaks."

"He seasoned the steaks, he prepared the sides, and then he said I did most of it."

Kobe laughed. "Well. Either way — thank you both. This is really above and beyond."

"Sit down," Lucas said.

They did, and the meal settled into easy conversation. About halfway through, Maggie set her fork down and reached for her phone. "Okay, I need opinions," she said, sliding it across to Lucas and Jennifer. "These are the dress options my stylist sent over. For the Oscars. Be honest."

Lucas and Jennifer went through them.

Jennifer had opinions immediately — she pointed at the third one without hesitating, said something about the neckline. Lucas was slower, went back to the first one, then the third.

Maggie looked relieved. "That's the one I kept coming back to."

"Then that's the one," Jennifer said.

Kobe leaned back in his chair with the satisfied look of someone whose opinion had not been asked for and was fine with that.

---

Before anyone quite felt ready for it, the Oscars arrived.

The 95th ceremony carried the usual energy, organized chaos dressed up in glamour. Lucas stepped out onto the red carpet looking sharp and unhurried, moving at his own pace.

The crowd picked him up the moment he cleared the barriers.

"LUCAS!"

"Oh my god, he actually came!"

"He looks incredible, what is going on with him--"

"Being a dad changed him like that?!"

"That is so unfair to the rest of us."

"He was already perfect and now this?!"

"I literally cannot breathe right now."

"My husband does not look like that after having a baby, I have complaints."

Lucas raised a hand in a general wave and kept moving. Photo ops, the usual positions, the same practiced patience through it all. Further down the carpet, he could see Kobe and Maggie surrounded by their own cluster of cameras.

He let himself get steered toward his set of reporters and squared up to face them.

He'd half-expected the controversy to come at him right away. It didn't. The Variety correspondent stepped forward first, microphone up, and the question was clean.

"Lucas, the Best Actor lineup this year is genuinely stacked — Brendan Fraser, Colin Farrell, Paul Mescal, Bill Nighy. How are you feeling about your chances tonight?"

Lucas relaxed slightly. "I think Brendan Fraser is going to make every person in that theater cry tonight, including me. If he wins, I'll be the first one standing."

The reporters laughed. A few were already writing.

The Hollywood Reporter correspondent followed up. "You've built quite a career at this point — what does a night like this still mean to you?"

"It means I get to sit in a very uncomfortable chair for four hours and pretend I'm relaxed," Lucas said. More laughter.

It didn't last.

A journalist near the back pushed forward, and Lucas recognized the energy before the question even came. "Lucas, drone footage has been circulating from Central Park — sources say a filming permit was filed under your name for a private gathering. Can you confirm—"

Lucas turned calmly back to the Variety correspondent. "Any other questions?"

A voice from the side cut in. "Lucas, regarding the Geoffrey lawsuit, do you have any comment—"

"Looks like that's everything." Lucas gave a single nod. "Thank you all."

"Wait — Lucas—"

He was already moving. His security detail closed the gap behind him without a word.

Behind him, one of the entertainment journalists turned on the reporter who'd derailed it.

"Really? That's all we get now? Thank you so much for that."

There was nothing to be done. The guards alone ended any thought of a follow-up.

Lucas found Kobe and Maggie near the entrance. Kobe clocked his expression immediately.

"Something happen out there?"

"Nothing worth repeating," Lucas said, exhaling once. "Reporters asking about things they know I won't answer. At the Oscars, of all places."

Kobe shook his head. "At the Oscars. Really." He put a hand briefly on Lucas's shoulder. "Forget them. They're not in here and you are."

"They have absolutely no shame," Maggie said, frowning. Then she straightened and looked toward the doors. "Can we please just go inside? I have been waiting for this night for weeks and I am not letting anyone ruin it."

Lucas looked at the doors, then back at her.

"Yeah," he said. "Let's go in."

---

After entering the Dolby Theatre, there was still a good forty minutes before the ceremony officially began.

The seats were filling slowly, the orchestra doing their last-minute checks, and the production crew moving around with the barely-contained urgency that preceded any live broadcast.

So people mingled.

It didn't take long for the other Best Actor nominees to find their way over to Lucas. Brendan Fraser, Colin Farrell, Paul Mescal, Bill Nighy — they each stopped by at different points, some warmer than others, all of them cordial. Brief exchanges, genuine enough.

The kind of conversation that happens between people who respect each other's work without needing to make a big thing of it.

After the long wait, Jimmy Kimmel finally stepped onto the stage, relaxed and grinning like a man who had done this before and made his peace with it.

He opened with the usual — jokes about the industry, about streaming, about the year in film. The crowd laughed on cue. Then he started working through the room.

He got to Lucas and the camera swung over. "Lucas Knight, everyone."

Lucas raised a hand with a calm smile.

Jimmy let the applause settle. "I want to apologize for saying his name so early. Our producers specifically told me — and I'm quoting here — 'Jimmy, say Lucas Knight at least three times before the first commercial break.' Apparently every time his name comes up on live television our ratings jump fourteen percent." He paused. "I said Lucas Knight twice just now, by the way. I'm keeping count."

Laughter from the crowd.

"But honestly, welcome back. It has been a while since we've seen you at one of these and we have missed you." More applause. "The whole world has been asking — what is next for Lucas Knight? Another film? An album? A world tour?" He looked out at the audience. "Anyone? No? Nobody knows?"

He let that breathe for a second.

"Well. We did get a small clue recently." He straightened slightly. "Now, I'm not saying it was him. Nobody confirmed anything. But someone — someone — filed a permit for a private gathering in Central Park last week. Secured perimeter, the whole thing." He tilted his head. "Could be anybody, really. Very common. People do that all the time."

Light laughter starting to build.

"And then a drone appeared overhead." He nodded slowly. "And then the drone — and I want to be very precise here — fell out of the sky." He looked at the camera. "Spontaneously. On its own. For no reason whatsoever."

The crowd was already laughing.

"So again — not confirmed. Could be anyone. But if that person happens to be sitting in this theater tonight —" he looked directly at Lucas, "— the FAA would like a word."

The theater erupted. Lucas sat with his arms folded, nodding slowly, wearing the expression of a man fully committed to saying absolutely nothing.

'Here we go again. I like the jokes but I have to be prepared to get bullied for the entire night.'

Lucas thought that, then laughed when the camera swung to him.

Nearby, Kobe and Maggie caught his expression and stifled their giggles.

After that, the ceremony settled into its rhythm. Jimmy mentioned Lucas here and there — a passing jab, a quick callback — but the focus moved where it was supposed to. The nominations took over.

When Best Animated Feature came around, the room shifted.

The presenter read through the nominees. K-Pop: Demon Hunters among them, alongside the usual names — the studios with the weight of history behind them, the films that had been favored since the shortlist dropped. There was a moment where the theater just held its breath.

Then the envelope opened.

"K-Pop: Demon Hunters."

Maggie shot up from her seat with both hands over her mouth. Kobe was on his feet beside her, grinning wide. He'd won an Oscar for Best Animated Short back in 2018, so he knew exactly what was moving through her right now.

They made their way to the stage. Lucas stayed in his seat. This was her moment, and he wasn't going to walk up there and pull the camera away from it.

At the podium, Maggie gathered herself as best she could. She thanked her crew, her family, the animators who had given years to the project. She thanked Kobe for building a studio that believed the idea was worth betting on. And then she looked directly into the camera.

"And to Lucas Knight, who invested in this when it was nothing but a pitch and a dream — thank you for believing it was worth making."

The camera found Lucas in the crowd. He was smiling, fully and without effort, the kind of smile that doesn't have anything behind it except genuine feeling.

The speech wound down and the applause carried her off the stage. Lucas met her at the bottom.

"Congrats," he said.

Maggie was still teary. "Thank you," she managed.

Kobe put an arm around her shoulder and the three of them settled into quiet conversation through the commercial break.

...

The ceremony continued. Category by category, the night moved forward.

When Best Actor arrived, Lucas's name drew one of the louder reactions of the evening from the crowd. He acknowledged it with a nod, then settled back.

He wasn't expecting to win. He'd watched all the films in the category over the past weeks and he knew where he stood. Joker 2 was good — he'd been good in it — but The Whale was something else entirely. Brendan Fraser had given everything to that role. Lucas had felt it watching from his seat, the same way he'd felt it the first time he saw it screened. That kind of performance didn't come around often, and when it did, it deserved to be recognized.

Joker 2 was also, if he was being straight with himself, too familiar. The first film had already done something definitive. The sequel was well-made, well-acted, but the Academy had seen that territory before. The Whale hadn't been seen before.

He was here because he respected the category and the people in it, and because showing up meant something. That was enough.

When they announced Brendan Fraser's name, Lucas was already clapping before the sound fully registered in the room. He stood. Around him others stood too, but the camera found Lucas anyway, probably expecting something complicated on his face.

There was nothing complicated. He was genuinely moved, eyes glassy, clapping without reservation for a man who had earned every second of that moment.

At the after-party, Kobe and Maggie found him.

"How are you feeling?" Kobe asked.

"Good." Lucas meant it. "I'm not sour about it at all. Fraser deserved that win."

Kobe studied him for a second. "You really mean that."

"I really mean it. Watch The Whale if you haven't. It's worth it."

"I haven't seen it," Kobe admitted. "Now I'm curious."

"Me too," Maggie said. "If it moved you then it must be something."

"It is," Lucas said simply.

Not long after, Brendan Fraser found his way over, Oscar in hand, still looking like a man who hadn't fully processed what had just happened to him.

"Lucas." He extended his free hand. "I have to say — what you did in Joker 2 was something else. That performance stayed with me."

"I appreciate that." Lucas shook his hand. "But tonight was yours. That was a remarkable piece of work."

Brendan smiled, quiet and grateful. "Thank you. That means a lot coming from you."

Over the next hour, Colin found him, then Paul, then Bill — one by one, unhurried, the way people move at the end of a long night when the pressure has finally lifted. No bitterness in any of them. Just good competitors who knew how to lose well.

Lucas received all of them the same way.

Kobe and Maggie sat back and watched it unfold with the quiet fascination of people witnessing something they didn't entirely have a reference point for.

Then Lucas's expression changed.

It was subtle — just a slight narrowing of the eyes, a stillness that hadn't been there a moment before.

Kobe noticed it before he even looked up to find the cause.

"How're you doing, son?"

The man who had approached the table was thin. Noticeably so, in a way that went beyond lean — the kind of thin that spoke of something else entirely. His face had aged more than the years accounted for.

It was Vince Knight.

The table went quiet. Kobe and Maggie exchanged a glance, and without a word between them, they excused themselves and stepped away.

Lucas looked at his father for a long moment. "Looks like prison wasn't very kind to you."

Vince didn't bite back. He reached for a glass of wine and took a slow sip. "You did great tonight. I genuinely felt bad that you didn't win."

"Winning or losing doesn't matter much to me," Lucas said, his voice even. "And if I had won, I'd have known I didn't deserve it."

"I see." Vince nodded. A beat of silence settled between them, awkward on one side and deliberately blank on the other. "Actually — my birthday is coming up soon. I was wondering if you'd want to come."

Lucas paused, if only for a moment.

"Sorry. I don't think I can."

"Is that so?" Vince smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. "Ha. That's fine. That's completely fine."

"If there's nothing else, I'll get going."

"Sure, of course—"

Lucas was already walking before the sentence finished.

Vince stayed where he was. He watched his son move back into the crowd, the distance between them growing without either of them acknowledging it. After a moment, his shoulders settled into a slow, quiet hunch.

'Sofia...' he thought. 'Your son really grew up to be a fine young man. I couldn't ask for more than that. What I did — I can't blame him. Not for any of it.'

His hands felt weak around the glass.

He hadn't told Lucas. He hadn't told anyone. The diagnosis had come back three weeks ago, and he'd sat with it alone since then — the particular loneliness of a man who had burned every bridge that might have held his weight.

'My time in this world is numbered. I know he can't forgive me. I'm not asking him to. I just want to see them — him, his wife, his child — once more before I go. Is that selfish? It probably is.'

He looked down at the glass in his hand.

'It probably is...'