King of Hollywood

Chapter 293 - 293 19 The Forever Beloved of French Men

?Chapter 293: Chapter 19 The Forever Beloved of French Men Chapter 293: Chapter 19 The Forever Beloved of French Men The gentle breeze brushed through the plane trees lining both banks of the Seine River, their verdant leaves swaying slightly under the mild sunlight. Passersby walked briskly or strolled leisurely along the riverside; small boats created ripples as they made their way toward their destinations, with tourists on larger boats eagerly capturing the picturesque surroundings through their lenses. Everything seemed so harmonious and beautiful.

The lovely lady withdrew her gaze from the floor-to-ceiling glass window and absently stirred her spoon, then looked toward the entrance of the café. Just like before, there was nothing unusual, and she frowned slightly, seeming somewhat dissatisfied.

“I’ll give them another call, Sophie,” the middle-aged man seated next to her said, noticing her demeanor.

“No, don’t bother, let’s wait a little longer. Perhaps they got held up by something,” the lady replied indifferently. After glancing at her hesitant agent beside her, she added, “If they still haven’t arrived by the agreed time, we’ll just leave. They can’t complain then.”

“Alright,” the middle-aged man shrugged and joked, “From now on, I’ll start praying again that you won’t be recognized, or else half of Paris’s men might flood over here.”

Sophie couldn’t help but smile at the compliment. It was none other than Sophie Marceau, often referred to as “the eternal love of French men.” Although time had added a touch of maturity to her once innocent face, those brown eyes, seemingly always filled with melancholy, remained as bright as ever.

She was meeting with her agent, Dominic Beshard, discreetly in this unassuming café because she had received an invitation from the United States weeks earlier—precisely, from Hollywood. A quite famous director had personally called her, hoping she would star in his new movie, and had sent the script early through Beshard.

Thinking of the director, a slight smile appeared on Sophie’s lips; he was indeed an interesting man. She had been approached by many Hollywood directors in the past, but she had always disregarded them. The reasons were many. However, this time, her curiosity was piqued because the director had, two years prior, won the Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival with a gang movie. He was outrageously young, which had also set a new record for the youngest recipient of this award. In Hollywood, he was known as the “Miracle Director.”

Adrian Cowell was his name. If that were all, Sophie wouldn’t have thought much about it, but intriguingly, tucked inside the screenplay was a poem, “Liberty” by the contemporary French poet Paul Eluard.

“Though historically inaccurate, I believe Eluard’s poem perfectly embodies this story,” he had written in French beneath the poem. Moreover, the entire poem was neatly written in French, suggesting he was well-educated, serious yet lively and romantic.

Especially after reading the script, she was even more convinced of this impression. Initially, whether it was the passion of Wallace or his heroism, or the romantic entanglements with his wife and the princess, all had intrigued Sophie. However, when her curiosity led her to check historical records, she was surprised—Isabella, known as the “French She-Wolf,” and the delicate princess simply did not connect. Moreover, when she had married into England, Wallace had already been executed. How could she have had a romantic relationship, much less bear his child?

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