After hanging up the phone, Harvey paced around the room excitedly.
After so many years, I finally succeeded in screwing Martin over!
Martin, Martin, even if I can't ruin your reputation, I'll still make you squirm.
Harvey knew full well that, given Martin's current status, a minor scandal wouldn't do much damage.
Which big-shot capitalist in the U.S. isn't fooling around?
Bill Gates, the face of Microsoft, was caught with his secretary.
Jeffrey Epstein, the financial tycoon who made the rich list yearly, allegedly had a thing for underage girls.
Larry Ellison, Oracle's founder, was photographed sneaking into a hotel with a barmaid.
Henry Nicholas, CEO of Broadcom, was repeatedly exposed for hiring prostitutes.
At most, it became tabloid fodder.
And unlike those men, Martin wasn't even married.
Harvey was well aware that this scandal would only annoy Martin—not actually hurt him.
Just as Harvey was basking in his petty triumph, a knock came at the door.
Muttering, he shuffled over in his pajamas and peered through the peephole.
Seeing him alone, Harvey opened the door.
Harvey: "Great work. Did you bring the tape?"
Harvey felt excited and hurriedly said:
"Perfect! There's a VCR in here—let's watch."
Too giddy to notice Eric's "oh-shit" expression, Harvey ushered him in.
Harvey: "From now on, call me Harvey. You're my friend."
Hope you still feel that way after this, Eric thought.
He popped the tape into the VCR and hit play.
Harvey plopped onto the couch, pouring drinks for them both, ready to enjoy Martin's starring role in this illicit film.
His wife, Georgina Chapman, appeared on screen.
Harvey: "WHAT THE F—?!"
Eric, sneaking a glance at Harvey's face, braced for the fallout.
Brad Pitt entered the frame.
Eric: "WHAT THE F—?!"
Harvey (roaring): "ERIC, YOU SON OF A BITCH! I TOLD YOU TO FOLLOW MARTIN! WHY IS MY WIFE BANGING BRAD PITT?!"
He grabbed his head, pacing like a madman. "No, no—how the hell did Georgina end up with that asshole Pete?!"
Eric, meanwhile, was just as baffled, staring slack-jawed at the screen.
"Did we get the wrong damn tape?!"
Harvey spitting in rage shout:
"That slimy bastard Pitt—always cozying up to me. Now I know why! He was after my wife!"
"Goddamn it! If I can't take down Martin, I'll destroy Pitt!"
"Brad Pitt... that backstabbing whore... just you wait!"
He stormed around, teeth grinding, lost in furious muttering.
Eric, finally snapping out of his daze, rubbed his eyes.
They'd all seen Martin with Harvey's wife in that hotel room. All six of them.
So how did the tape show Pitt instead?!
"Unless... someone swapped the tapes."
His mind raced. "Joyce? Harper? They copied it... but the master tape—that's still in my car!"
Panicked, Eric bolted from the room.
The master tapes were in his trunk, meticulously labeled—his personal system. He'd checked them earlier; they were the originals.
But what he didn't realize was...
This wasn't just a scheme.
By the time he rushed back, clutching the master tape, Harvey was still stomping in circles, muttering like a broken robot.
Eric ignored him, slamming the tape into the VCR.
He was stunned all over again.