241-245

*Chapter 241: Make Peace? Get Lost! * 

It’s been exactly half a month since Dunn Films fought back and issued a ban against Disney. 

In that time, Dunn Films’ movies have continued to soar, while Disney’s films have been pulled from theaters one after another. Meanwhile, big names like Jack Nicholson, Mel Gibson, and Johnny Depp have made bold appearances, signing deals with Dunn Films without giving Disney’s ban a second thought. 

Things are spiraling in an unpredictable direction. 

Michael Eisner initially thought that if Dunn Films dared to respond with a “ban,” the Motion Picture Association, backed by the six major studios, would step in officially to rein them in. 

But that’s not how it’s playing out! 

Eisner made a few calls to the other major studios, only to get vague, noncommittal responses. It was clear they were dodging him. 

With his sharp mind, Eisner quickly put it together. 

That kid Dunn… he must’ve paid a steep price to win the support of the other major studios! 

But… 

With Dunn Films’ current assets and scale, what could they possibly offer to make Hollywood’s giants green with envy? 

“Film rights?” 

Eisner shook his head immediately. No way! 

If the major studios teamed up to carve up Dunn Films, the film rights would just be split evenly among them. 

“Actual cash?” 

Eisner let out a dry laugh. 

Sure, Dunn’s a filthy rich guy, but he’s not stupid. Why would he hand over his own money to the other major studios? At their core, those Hollywood giants are Dunn Films’ potential rivals. 

Eisner’s no fool. He’s already figured out that Dunn must’ve teamed up with Michael Ovitz and made some hefty promises to the other studios. Otherwise, they wouldn’t let Dunn Films run wild like this. 

The Wolf of Wall Street bombed at the box office, but a few tens of millions in losses are a drop in the bucket for Disney, with its market value exceeding $50 billion. It barely makes a dent. 

At most, it’s a bit of a PR embarrassment, letting Dunn have his moment to gloat. 

From the start, Eisner took Dunn, this Hollywood newcomer, seriously. But now he’s realizing he didn’t take him seriously enough. 

The surprises Dunn’s bringing are way beyond what he imagined. 

“Maybe… it’s time to meet this kid face-to-face?” Eisner narrowed his eyes, lost in thought. 

Know your enemy, and you’ll win every battle. 

Michael Eisner, who’s dominated Hollywood for years, has rarely been outplayed like this by a rookie like Dunn. Amid his anger and astonishment, he’s also growing a bit curious. 

He’s never met Dunn. Everything he knows about him comes from media reports and hearsay. 

Some things seem like a big deal on the surface, but once you talk it out, they’re no bigger than a speck of dust. 

Of course, Eisner would never admit he’s considering backing down. With Disney’s power, they don’t need to bow to anyone! 

But spending so much effort to fight a film company worth less than $2 billion? It’s just not worth it! 

Recently, several shareholders have emailed him, voicing their dissatisfaction. 

Dunn was right about one thing: Disney’s film division is weak. 

Since Jeffrey Katzenberg left, their animated films have tanked. Their live-action films? They’re barely holding on thanks to Jerry Bruckheimer and Harvey Weinstein, with none of the swagger of an old-school studio. 

Being repeatedly outmaneuvered by Dunn Films in such a short time boils down to Disney’s film business being too fragile. 

Right now, Disney’s core is its television business! 

Beyond ESPN and the ABC network, Eisner’s got his sights set on reviving the Disney Channel’s glory days! 

The Disney Channel, a pay-TV network focused on kids and teens, has been challenged by Warner’s Cartoon Network and Viacom’s Nickelodeon. 

That’s not good enough for Eisner’s appetite. 

In the teen and kids’ market, Disney has to rule! 

Building a cable network from scratch takes time. To quickly dominate this space, acquisition is the best move. 

Eisner’s already got his target: the Family Entertainment Channel under Twentieth Century Fox. 

With 81 million subscribers in the U.S., 10 million in Latin America, and 24 million households in Europe, the acquisition could be worth at least $5 billion. 

It’s a steep price, but once the deal’s done, the merged Disney Channel will dominate affordable family entertainment! 

Compared to that massive market, the film business’s meager profits are nothing. 

Thinking of this, Eisner gave a self-deprecating chuckle. Dunn… just some wet-behind-the-ears kid with a bit of talent, making a few hit movies and bouncing around Hollywood like he owns it. 

Is it really worth stooping to his level? 

Maybe it’s the string of blows to Disney’s films that’s left him disheartened. Maybe it’s Dunn Films’ unstoppable momentum, with A-list stars publicly backing them. Or maybe it’s Dunn’s ability to rally the other major studios… 

Whatever it is, Eisner’s not as furious as he was before. He’s calm now, even brushing off Dunn’s provocative comments in the papers with a scoff and a smile. 

“It’s time to meet him.” 

… 

The schedule for A Beautiful Mind isn’t rushed, so Dunn’s taking his time with filming. 

Eight hours of shooting a day, two days off every weekend, and not a cent in overtime pay. 

Mel Gibson’s cameo scenes wrapped up quickly. The guy didn’t even take a break, hopping on a private jet straight to the set of Unsinkable. 

Then Dunn got a call from Bill Mechanic with some unexpected news. 

“Dunn, Michael Eisner wants to meet you!” 

“Who?” 

Dunn froze, not quite processing it. 

Bill Mechanic repeated slowly, “Disney’s chairman, Michael Eisner!” 

Dunn burst out laughing. “You’re kidding, right? He wants to meet me? What, to beg for mercy on his knees?” 

Bill’s tone was dead serious, no hint of a joke. “Dunn, this isn’t just some rumor. Eisner passed the message through Ron Meyer. He’s probably seen the writing on the wall and doesn’t want this ban nonsense to drag on.” 

Dunn waved a hand, telling the crew to take a half-hour break, then strolled back to his trailer, saying coolly, “So, Michael Eisner’s really throwing in the towel?” 

Bill sighed. “It’s not exactly throwing in the towel. With even Mel Gibson on our side, the influence is huge. Keeping this up isn’t worth it for anyone.” 

Dunn raised an eyebrow. “Bill, what’s your take?” 

“Like he said, the ban’s just a farce.” Bill paused. “If Disney’s backing off, and we keep pushing, the other studios won’t be happy.” 

Dunn smirked. “Bill, you’re right. But Eisner’s thinking the same thing! Why should I play along with him?” 

“Dunn, you…” 

“Hmph! He’s the one who started this ban nonsense. Now that it’s spiraling out of control, he wants to call a truce? On what grounds?” 

“Because he represents Disney!” 

“Ha!” 

Dunn let out a cocky laugh, then said coldly, “So what if it’s Disney? Bill, don’t say I’m full of myself, but Eisner’s been playing emperor too long, thinking everyone’s his servant. He’s got some bad habits!” 

Bill sighed again. “Dunn, dragging this out doesn’t do either of us any good. The ban’s got to be settled eventually.” 

Dunn replied calmly, “Of course. The ban disrupts the market, and it can’t go on forever—I get that. But resolving this depends on my terms, not his!” 

“Dunn, you’re letting emotions cloud your judgment.” 

“No, Bill, I’m perfectly clear-headed and calm.” Dunn’s voice was steady and firm. “Dunn Films is a new company, and I’m not going down DreamWorks’ path. This is the perfect chance to make an example out of Disney and show all of Hollywood that Dunn Films isn’t DreamWorks. We won’t be pushed around!” 

Chapter 242: "Blockbuster" Showdown 

No matter what Michael Eisner’s intentions were—whether to shift internal conflicts, make peace, or genuinely back down—Dunn wasn’t about to give him a chance! 

Since April, Dunn had faced relentless pressure from Disney in every form imaginable, barely scraping by. If it weren’t for Spider-Man’s success, plus the solid network and foresight Dunn had built over the years, Disney would’ve crushed him without leaving a trace. 

Now, Dunn had played his final trump card: the “portfolio investment plan.” With the backing of several major players, he finally had the leverage to go toe-to-toe with Disney. And now that Eisner saw the tide turning, he wanted to back off? No way! 

You strike when it suits you, and when things get tough, you just walk away? What kind of fantasy world is that? Talk about arrogance! 

Dunn had already shown his hand, and he wasn’t about to stop until he’d secured enough gains. Even if it was just to vent his frustration, he was determined to teach Disney a lesson. He’d make Michael Eisner understand that, young or not, Dunn was a force to be reckoned with, and he wouldn’t tolerate being pushed around. 

If everyone could negotiate calmly and fairly, great. But if someone wanted to play dirty, Dunn wasn’t going to play nice either. 

Back down? Never! 

Besides, pulling out now would kill the momentum of the boycott before it could even take effect. It’d make people think Dunn was scared of Disney. He’d planned this from the start: Disney was the stepping stone for Dunn Pictures to claim the top spot in Hollywood. Everything was in place; all he needed was the final push. 

Why would he back down now and let all his efforts go to waste? 

If they were going to play, it’d be a big game! 

Dunn Pictures was going to climb over Disney’s shoulders and dominate Hollywood. Once that happened, bringing Universal Pictures under his control would be a natural next step. 

Over at Viacom, Sumner Redstone had spent 40 years using bold and aggressive tactics to turn a family business into a global media giant. Whatever Viacom’s future might hold, right now, Redstone was at the top of his game. 

Since the 1950s, when the “Tosla Act” forced the separation of film production and distribution, studios could no longer handle production, distribution, and exhibition as a single operation. Everyone knew that monopolistic, all-in-one services were the most profitable. While Viacom’s Paramount Pictures couldn’t own theater chains, Redstone found a clever workaround: a new kind of monopoly. 

Video and DVD rentals! 

This was a massive opportunity. 

Hollywood’s movie market operated like an assembly line with tiered sales windows: theaters first, then pay-per-view, cable TV, broadcast TV, and finally video and DVD sales and rentals. Theaters were the traditional cash cow, but as film production ramped up, the rental business became increasingly vital. It was the final link in the chain—and a critical one. 

Theater prints were limited, with one copy typically serving a single screen. Rentals, however, were different. A single copy could be reused endlessly, creating massive profits. If Viacom could control this final stage of film distribution, they’d hold a near-monopoly in Hollywood. 

And Redstone pulled it off. 

In 1993, Viacom acquired Paramount. Just a year later, they spent $8.4 billion to buy 81.5% of Blockbuster’s shares. Redstone’s ambition and audacity were on full display. 

Blockbuster’s CEO, John Antioco, understood Redstone’s vision and his own role. Under this strategy, Blockbuster aggressively pursued acquisitions, snapping up anything that strengthened their distribution channels or film rights. Within a few years, Blockbuster had nearly monopolized the final stage of the movie market. With over 60,000 employees, 4,141 company-owned stores and 830 franchises in the U.S., plus 1,951 company-owned and 454 franchised stores abroad, Blockbuster was the undisputed king of video and DVD rentals, controlling over 90% of the North American market. 

Hollywood’s entire industry revolved around Blockbuster’s cash flow. Viacom, through Blockbuster, gained unmatched influence in Hollywood—more than even Paramount could claim. 

Still, despite Blockbuster’s dominance, about 10% of the rental market remained in the hands of small retailers and upstart companies. But with the economic crisis hitting, one of those new players was struggling and looking to sell. 

Reed Hastings and his assistant, Sean Anderson, headed to Blockbuster’s headquarters to meet with CEO John Antioco. They wanted to sell their two-year-old startup. 

“Reed, I still think our asking price is too bold!” Sean Anderson said nervously on the way. 

Reed Hastings glanced at him. “Is $50 million really that high?” 

Sean grimaced. “Reed, don’t forget, the dot-com bubble just burst. We’re not getting that kind of offer. Plus, Blockbuster’s a traditional rental company—they don’t do internet.” 

Hastings shook his head, resolute. “So what? The future is online. Traditional rentals will get replaced by internet rentals. Blockbuster might look unstoppable now, but if they don’t adapt, they’re done for.” 

Sean sighed. “That’s not convincing. We’re in a tech crisis. Traditional businesses are steering clear of the internet—why would they jump in?” 

Hastings replied calmly, “That’s why we need to explain our vision to John Antioco. If he’s a sharp, forward-thinking leader, he’ll see the potential in what we’re offering.” 

“Our potential?” Sean asked skeptically. 

“Exactly. Blockbuster’s days are numbered. The future of rentals belongs to Netflix’s hybrid online-offline model,” Hastings said with unwavering confidence. 

Sean rolled his eyes. Where was Hastings getting this confidence? Netflix had just 120,000 users, with fewer than 10,000 active monthly. They held less than 1% of the North American market. Blockbuster, on the other hand, had 300 million users—a completely different league. 

Even if Netflix’s business model seemed more advanced and promising, how could they compete with an industry titan like Blockbuster? And now Hastings was planning to lecture Antioco on the necessity of online payments? It was absurd. 

Fifteen percent of Blockbuster’s revenue came from late fees—penalties for overdue rentals. Online payments would cut that revenue stream entirely. With digital payments, users could avoid late fees by extending rentals online if they kept a disc too long. That kind of customer-friendly approach was pure internet thinking, completely at odds with traditional business models. 

Why would Blockbuster, a traditional rental giant, embrace online payments? And without online payments, services like streaming or online rentals would be off the table. What would Netflix have left? Just 120,000 users—nothing Blockbuster’s 300 million-user empire would care about. 

Even $5 million might be too much for Antioco to consider, let alone $50 million. 

Hastings’ vision was bold, but Sean saw no chance of success. 

“What if… I mean, what if Antioco rejects our terms? Do we lower the price?” Sean asked cautiously. 

“Lower the price? No way,” Hastings replied. “When we did our second round of funding, Netflix was valued at $50 million. Now, our user base has doubled, and our business model is more refined. $50 million is my bottom line—it’s what we owe our investors.” 

Sean sighed deeply. “This is going to be tough.” 

Hastings smirked. “If John Antioco can’t see Netflix’s value, there’s nothing more to discuss. We’ll just sit back and watch Blockbuster’s empire crumble.” 

As Sean predicted, John Antioco showed zero interest in Netflix. Since taking over as Blockbuster’s second-ever CEO under Redstone, Antioco had followed his boss’s aggressive expansion playbook. Blockbuster didn’t pause for anything—or anyone. 

Hastings’ pitch to sell Netflix was just a minor blip among Blockbuster’s many investments, barely worth a glance. But when he suggested Blockbuster adopt Netflix’s model and pivot to online rentals, Antioco’s patience ran out. 

Anyone backed by Viacom, trusted by Redstone, and steering a brand toward industry dominance wouldn’t take kindly to a young upstart throwing cold water on their success. The result was predictable. 

The meeting ended badly. 

*Chapter 243: The Future of Netflix * 

Reed Hastings’ attempt to persuade Blockbuster to acquire his company, Netflix, for $50 million has ended in failure! 

Looking at the negotiation without the benefit of hindsight, Reed Hastings’ defeat seems perfectly normal. 

It’s the era of the dot-com bubble burst, and internet-related companies like Netflix are naturally met with skepticism. 

In the past few months alone, over a hundred internet companies have gone bankrupt. 

Even if Netflix’s business model were truly promising, with Blockbuster’s resources and connections, couldn’t they build their own “Netflix” for $50 million? 

Stepping out of Blockbuster’s headquarters, Reed Hastings glanced back at the building, then checked his watch. 

From the moment he entered to the moment he left, barely 20 minutes had passed. 

A slight smirk curled at the corner of Reed Hastings’ lips. 

His assistant, Shawn Anderson, let out a long sigh, his face full of bitter disappointment. 

The failure to sell Netflix meant the company’s cash flow was on the verge of collapse. If they wanted to avoid bankruptcy, there was only one path left—layoffs! 

Shawn Anderson’s position was precarious. If Netflix started cutting jobs, the company would prioritize keeping core business talent. Even as Reed Hastings’ assistant, he faced the very real threat of being let go. 

Shawn glanced cautiously at Reed Hastings, expecting to see defeat or despair. To his shock, there was none of that. Instead, Reed’s face carried a hint of mockery and disdain. 

When Reed Hastings cast a scornful look back at Blockbuster, Shawn’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. 

Boss, seriously? 

At a time like this, was he really fantasizing about Blockbuster failing to adapt, watching their empire crumble? 

Even if Blockbuster were to collapse, with their massive assets and influence, it would take at least a decade for them to burn through it all. Netflix, on the other hand, could face bankruptcy in the short term if they didn’t secure funding soon. 

Noticing Shawn’s anxious expression, Reed Hastings smiled faintly. “By the way, Shawn, have you ever seen a movie called Wedding Crashers?” 

“Yeah, I have. It’s a hilarious comedy. Produced by Dunn Pictures, right?” Shawn nodded mechanically. 

Reed Hastings grinned. “Do you know who the female lead in Wedding Crashers is?” 

Shawn tilted his head, thinking for a moment before shaking it. “I just remember she was a sweet-looking girl, some small-time actress.” 

“Her name’s Reese, Reese Witherspoon.” 

“Oh, right, Witherspoon!”  

Shawn wasn’t sure if he genuinely remembered or was just going along with it. He looked at Reed curiously, unsure where this was going. 

As the two slowly walked away from Blockbuster’s headquarters, Reed Hastings continued, “Funny thing is, Miss Witherspoon and us? We’ve got a bit of a connection.” 

Shawn Anderson chuckled, shaking his head. “Reed, you’re joking, right? Sure, we’re in the movie business, but we’re still a long way from rubbing shoulders with movie stars.” 

Reed gave him a deep, knowing look. “Shawn, I’ve told you before—pay more attention to our alumni network. It’s good for business!” 

Shawn blinked, confused. “Alumni network? Wait, are you saying Reese Witherspoon went to Stanford? No way!” 

Reed shot him a playful, half-smiling glance. “Surprised?” 

“What? Is that for real?”  

Shawn was genuinely taken aback. 

Reed’s eyes narrowed slightly as he gazed at the stream of cars in the distance. “You know Google? The most-used search engine in the world right now. Founded by two of our Stanford buddies—two younger alumni, at that. When Google was raising funds, it was through Reese Witherspoon’s connection that they got linked up with Dunn Walker.” 

“Dunn Walker?” Shawn’s eyes lit up, his surprise growing. “You mean the Dunn from Hollywood?” 

“That’s the one,” Reed said with a smile. “You might not know this, but Miss Witherspoon is Dunn’s secretary.” 

Shawn’s jaw dropped, his expression freezing. 

To think such a big deal was happening in his own alumni circle, and he had no clue—it was downright embarrassing. 

“Reed, I think I get what you’re driving at. You’re thinking… we could reach out to Dunn Walker through our fellow alum?” 

“Exactly!” 

Shawn frowned, thinking it over. “That’s tough. I’m a fan of Dunn’s work, so I know a bit about him. Half a year ago, he made a fortune in the stock market and even landed on the rich list. But… he’s still an outsider in our field.” 

Some things he left unsaid. 

Not long ago, Dunn had poured a massive amount of money into buying Apple stock and even joined their board. To Shawn, that seemed like throwing money away—downright foolish. 

Reed Hastings, however, fell into deep thought. Did Dunn really not know how to invest? 

His investment in Apple might be hard to understand, but Google, which he also backed, was growing like wildfire. And then there was another internet company, X… 

“By the way, have you heard? X changed its name,” Reed said. 

X’s core business was online payments, something Netflix was also involved in, so Shawn was quick to respond. “Yeah, I heard. X acquired Confinity, and the merged company is now called PayPal. Once they finish integrating, PayPal’s set to become the biggest online payment platform.” 

At this, both Shawn Anderson and Reed Hastings’ faces lit up with excitement. 

Dunn’s investment track record didn’t seem half bad! 

Google was already the top search engine, and PayPal was on track to dominate online payments. 

More importantly, Netflix had an online payment system for its movie rental service. 

Netflix and PayPal had a clear foundation for a win-win partnership! 

And Netflix wasn’t purely an internet company—it was tied to the movie industry. Dunn, a major player in Hollywood who even invested in Hasbro, would surely see the potential in the downstream video rental business, right? 

“Back when Google and X were raising funds, Reese Witherspoon was the one who made the introductions. If Dunn’s as brilliant as Wall Street makes him out to be, he’ll definitely see Netflix’s potential!” 

Reed Hastings clenched his fist, his face radiating determination. 

Blockbuster had been his first choice, but they were too big, too arrogant to take Netflix seriously. 

Now, there was only one option left: Dunn Capital. 

Whether in Hollywood, Wall Street, or Silicon Valley, Dunn had a big name. If he was as good as his reputation, surely he’d step in to save Netflix? 

This was their last shot. 

But even if Dunn passed on Netflix, Reed Hastings wouldn’t back down. 

He had unshakable faith in Netflix’s business model. Even if he couldn’t raise a single cent, he’d keep Netflix going—cutting salaries, laying off staff, or digging into his own pockets if he had to. 

Netflix would have a future! 

It was another weekend, and for Dunn, good news was pouring in. 

First, Johnny Depp had officially signed a five-movie deal with Dunn Pictures, with a maximum salary of $20 million. His first film, Pirates League: Curse of the Black Pearl, would pay him $8 million. 

Second, a certain Hong Kong tycoon named Liu shelled out $3 million in sponsorship to get his “girlfriend” a cameo in a Dunn Pictures blockbuster. Easy money. Bill Mechanic promptly sent them to France to join the Mr. & Mrs. Smith set. 

Third, after over two months in theaters, Spider-Man had finally surpassed Star Wars: Episode I – The Phantom Menace at the global box office, hitting $1.19 billion! It was now the second-highest-grossing film in history, just behind Titanic. 

Fourth, Dunn’s private jet, a Gulfstream V, was finally fully refurbished and ready for service! 

With new developments in the Disney drama and Spider-Man breaking Star Wars’s box office record, it was cause for celebration. As was tradition, a celebratory party was in order. 

Bill Mechanic invited Dunn to come back to Los Angeles for the weekend to join the festivities and discuss the “blacklist” issue. 

With his private jet ready, Dunn was thrilled. In this life and the last, this was his first plane! 

Dunn invited Natalie, along with A Beautiful Mind stars Crowe Russell and Nicole Kidman, to fly with him on his private jet from the Atlantic’s west coast to the Pacific’s east coast. 

The Gulfstream V was a top-of-the-line business jet for its time, but space was limited. It was designed for just six passengers, with no room for a bedroom, bar, or bathroom. 

Those luxuries belonged to converted jumbo jets like the Boeing 747, not the Gulfstream series. 

The Gulfstream’s advantages were convenience and agility, with annual operating costs of around $3 million. 

A Boeing 747 private jet, by contrast, typically required a crew of four or five flight attendants. For a Gulfstream, one was enough. 

Speaking of flight attendants, Dunn’s eyes couldn’t help but drift to the lone attendant on board. 

She wore a red-and-white uniform, was in her mid-twenties, and was undeniably attractive. Meeting Dunn’s gaze, she flashed a warm smile. 

All crew members, including the pilot and attendant, were provided by Gulfstream. If the client wasn’t satisfied, they could be replaced. 

As far as private jet flight attendants went, she was among the best in the U.S. 

Still, Dunn felt something was missing. 

She was beautiful, sure, but she lacked the gentle, graceful charm of Asian flight attendants. 

“Alright, stop staring at her! You’ll scare her off!” Natalie, sitting beside him, discreetly pinched Dunn’s arm. 

Dunn chuckled softly, lowering his voice. “Relax, I’m not interested in her!” 

“Yeah, right!” 

Chapter 244: The Final Stronghold 

On a private plane, Natalie lounged against Dunn, whispering in his ear, “I feel like… you’ve been holding back lately.” 

“Holding back? On what?” 

“Women.” 

Dunn couldn’t help but chuckle, clearing his throat before replying softly, “Well… actually, while filming, Nicole and I have been staying together the whole time.” 

“She’s an old flame. That doesn’t count,” Natalie said, rolling her eyes playfully. She leaned in, her voice conspiratorial. “I’ve been watching. The A Beautiful Mind set is full of gorgeous girls. Knowing you, back in the day, you’d have left a trail of broken hearts after just two weeks of shooting.” 

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad,” Dunn said, shooting her a mock glare. 

Every film set has its share of beautiful women, and a movie like A Beautiful Mind, set on a college campus, was no exception. But most were extras or hopefuls on the fringes. The only truly prominent actress was Nicole Kidman. 

Hollywood was crawling with temptresses, and even with Dunn’s energy, he couldn’t possibly… connect with every one of them. He had to be selective. 

Especially with some of the lower-tier or peripheral actresses, who would do anything to climb the ladder, sometimes with reckless abandon. One wrong move could lead to a PR disaster, and Dunn wasn’t about to let that happen. 

“When it comes to that, the more famous the actor, the safer the bet,” he said. 

“You know I’m in a big fight with Disney right now,” Dunn continued, shaking his head. “I’m trying not to give them any ammunition. For all I know, some of those pretty girls on set could be Disney’s spies. It’s not paranoia—it’s possible.” 

Natalie grinned, teasing, “I thought you were some fearless rebel. Turns out you’re scared of something?” 

Dunn scoffed. “I’m bold, not stupid.” 

Natalie covered her mouth, giggling uncontrollably. 

Just then, Dunn’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen—Reese Witherspoon. 

“Reese, what’s up?” 

“Well, there’s something…” Reese hesitated, sounding sheepish. “You know, a lot of my Stanford alumni are entrepreneurs, especially in Silicon Valley. There’s a bunch of them.” 

Reese’s tone was apologetic. Over the past few weeks, six or seven Stanford grads had reached out to her, mostly from struggling tech companies hit hard by the dot-com crash, hoping Dunn could provide funding. 

Dunn’s money didn’t grow on trees. His confidence in investing in Wall Street and Silicon Valley came from his uncanny foresight, not blind generosity. 

For companies he’d never heard of? Stanford pedigree or not, it didn’t matter. 

“Reese,” Dunn said coolly, “going forward, just stall them. The tech industry’s collapse is a tidal wave. I’m an outsider—I can’t turn the tide.” 

“I know, but they’re so earnest. And… one of them is a much older alum. It’s hard to say no,” Reese said awkwardly. 

“Alright, fine. What’s the company?” Dunn had already turned down plenty of funding requests. One more wouldn’t hurt. 

“It’s an online video rental service—” 

“No need to explain,” Dunn cut her off. The plane’s signal wasn’t great, so he got straight to the point. “Just tell me the name.” 

“Netflix.” 

“What?” 

“Netflix!” 

Dunn sat up straight, pulling away from Natalie. His face lit up with excitement, practically glowing. “You’re saying… this is Netflix, the online video rental company?” 

“Yeah, exactly. Wait, you’ve heard of it?” 

Dunn nearly burst out laughing. 

Heard of it? 

The name rang like thunder in his ears. 

Right now, Dunn was taking on Hollywood with a swagger, armed with his “Sunglasses System” and prophetic insight, as if he held the entire industry’s fate in his hands. 

Even so, surviving in Hollywood was no walk in the park. Disney alone had nearly crushed him. 

But Netflix… Netflix was the real-world juggernaut that single-handedly took on all of Hollywood! 

As the internet rose, Hollywood’s traditional model was slowly being swept away. Movies and TV were no longer its exclusive domain. 

The rise of streaming flipped the industry upside down. Giants like 20th Century Fox and Warner Bros. faced intense pressure from streaming competitors, forcing them to sell off assets. 

And the king of streaming? Netflix. 

Netflix wouldn’t fully pivot to streaming for another decade. Hollywood had seen the internet’s impact coming, though. By 2007, companies like 20th Century Fox, Disney, and Universal launched Hulu, a streaming platform backed by their vast libraries. 

Hulu had an unmatched advantage in content, but Netflix’s rise was unstoppable. Years of building its online video rental, payment, and subscription services gave Netflix a massive user base and unmatched expertise. When it shifted to streaming, it leaped forward. 

Even with Hollywood’s copyright restrictions, Netflix found a way. It started producing original series, and House of Cards catapulted the company to global fame, pushing its market value to $70 billion. 

Add up the value of every other streaming company in the world? They still couldn’t touch Netflix. 

Later, Netflix even began making movies, shrugging off Hollywood’s gatekeepers. Its films skipped theaters entirely, streaming directly to subscribers. That move sent Netflix’s value soaring past $120 billion. 

Compare that to Warner Bros., sold for $85 billion, or 20th Century Fox’s assets, split up for $52 billion. 

And now, in the midst of the dot-com crash, this titan of a company was coming to Reese Witherspoon, begging for a lifeline through Dunn’s investment. 

It was both absurd and ironic. 

“Reese,” Dunn said, barely containing his excitement, “tell your alum I’m impressed with Netflix’s online-offline O2O model. Have him meet me in my office the day after tomorrow, morning.” 

Dunn’s heart raced as visions of a towering empire flashed before him. 

Netflix was his final stronghold. 

In Hollywood, Dunn’s edge didn’t make him invincible. Disney’s pressure often left him scrambling. If he ever crossed the line and angered the entire industry, or if Disney rallied the other giants to gang up on Dunn Films, no amount of foresight could save him. 

That fear had weighed heavily on him lately. 

But Netflix? It was a beacon of hope. 

Netflix was his ultimate fallback. 

If Dunn Films crashed and he was driven out of Hollywood, so what? With Netflix as his platform, he could still shake the entertainment world from the internet’s stage. 

And then? He’d have no need to play nice, no need to follow Hollywood’s rules. He could swing for the fences. 

Hollywood was powerful, but Netflix feared no one. 

Of course, that was a last resort. Dunn wouldn’t burn bridges with Hollywood unless he had no choice. 

He let out a long breath, stretched, and smiled to himself. 

Talk about luck. Netflix had come knocking at the perfect moment—a hidden dragon egg waiting to hatch. 

When it did, it would soar. 

Dunn’s “portfolio investment plan” had been his ace in the hole, a lifeline for Dunn Films. 

But now, his confidence was unshakable. Compared to that plan, Netflix was the real trump card. 

*Chapter 245: Ace vs. Ace (Part 1) * 

Spider-Man has racked up over $1.19 billion in global box office sales, making it the second highest-grossing film in history, just behind Titanic. It’s only natural that Dunn Films would throw a grand celebration to mark the occasion. 

The victory party was personally organized by Dunn Films’ president, Bill Mechanic, and held at the Hilton Hotel in Beverly Hills. Invitations went out to top executives from Universal Pictures, Marvel Entertainment, Marvel Studios, and, of course, the Spider-Man cast and crew. 

It was a formal affair. Dunn and Natalie arrived dressed to the nines, right on time, instantly stealing the spotlight of the entire event. 

Before this, the golden couple everyone was buzzing about had been Spider-Man’s leads, James Franco and Jessica Alba. 

“Director, long time no see! You’re looking great,” James Franco said, his sharp eyes likely fixed on Dunn’s arrival. He hurried over, a touch of flattery in his tone, and turned to Natalie with a compliment. “Miss Portman, that dress is stunning tonight.” 

“Thanks,” Natalie replied with a polite smile, keeping it professional. 

Dunn, on the other hand, was cool as a cucumber. 

There was a time when he’d seen big potential in James Franco, even envisioning him as the next Leonardo DiCaprio-level star. 

But during the feud between Disney and Dunn Films, Franco’s wishy-washy, noncommittal stance left a bad taste in Dunn’s mouth. 

In terms of brains and charm, Franco was top-tier among actors. But he was too smart, always playing both sides, trying to please everyone and offend no one. 

Dunn couldn’t stand that kind of person! 

Sure, people might call Mel Gibson reckless, hot-headed, or even a racist, but when push came to shove, his gutsy, “foolish” loyalty was something Dunn would remember fondly for life. 

Looking at Franco now, Dunn’s usual warmth was gone, replaced by a professional smile. “You seem to be doing well. Keep in shape—six months from now, we’re starting the Spider-Man sequel.” 

“I know, heh, I’ve got a nutritionist on board to make sure I’m in even better shape for the sequel!” Franco replied. He’d signed a long-term deal with Marvel Studios, tying him to the Spider-Man role for at least the next 20 years. 

He’d come to terms with it. Since Spider-Man had become a global sensation, the role was bound to bring him unparalleled fame. He was ready to fully embrace being Spider-Man, both in his career and personal life. 

After some small talk, Jessica Alba, a bit slow on the uptake, made her way over. Her gaze toward Dunn was layered with complicated emotions. 

Natalie, aware of their past fling, found an excuse to slip away and chat with someone else. 

Seeing Jessica Alba stirred mixed feelings in Dunn. 

Their relationship had been short-lived, fizzling out after Spider-Man wrapped. 

Dunn had chosen her as the female lead for Spider-Man partly on James Cameron’s recommendation and partly because he was genuinely taken by her beauty. 

But during the filming of Spider-Man, problems arose. 

It was something he hadn’t encountered while shooting Titanic, My Big Fat Greek Wedding, or Star Wars: Episode I – The Phantom Menace. 

Jessica Alba’s face… was tough to shoot. 

In her past life, despite James Cameron’s high praise, she’d lingered in the B- and C-list tiers for a reason. 

In terms of looks, Jessica Alba was breathtaking, practically flawless—arguably more striking than Dunn’s previous leading ladies, Kate Winslet, Nicole Kidman, or Natalie Portman. 

But film is a dynamic art, fundamentally different from still photography. Just because someone’s gorgeous doesn’t mean they’ll look good on screen. 

If that were the case, Hollywood wouldn’t need extensive casting for “vase” roles—they could just pluck models from Victoria’s Secret, who arguably have some of the most beautiful faces in the world. 

The truth is, Victoria’s Secret models’ faces are usually best suited for flat, 2D images. Their beauty is similar to the “internet celebrity” faces of later years—great for photos but not always for film, which demands a “3D” face. 

Take Kate Winslet in Titanic. When the camera circled her in a 360-degree shot, audiences didn’t just stay engaged—they were immersed in her beauty and the romantic atmosphere. 

But shooting Jessica Alba for Spider-Man gave Dunn a headache. 

Every time they filmed her face, they had to nail the perfect angle to make her look stunning, much like how some influencers only shine in a 45-degree selfie. 

It’s not that Jessica Alba wasn’t beautiful from other angles—she was. The problem was consistency. 

When the camera did a 360-degree spin around Kate Winslet, her beauty was seamless and continuous. With Jessica Alba, it wasn’t. 

From the front, her face was soft and delicate, almost flower-like, fitting Asian beauty standards. 

But from other angles, issues emerged. Despite her mixed heritage, her features leaned toward Caucasian traits—deep-set eyes, a high nose bridge, and a sharp jawline—that conveyed strength and defiance, completely different from the soft, Asian-like beauty of her frontal view. 

Her face was a duality: soft and delicate from the front, aligning with Asian aesthetics; sharp and cool from the side, fitting Western ideals. 

In film, a character’s portrayal relies heavily on facial expressions, and Jessica Alba’s face wasn’t suited for nuanced, multi-angle close-ups. 

This limited her range. Her face required a choice: either prioritize frontal shots or side profiles. In Dark Angel, for instance, they skipped most frontal close-ups, using side angles to highlight her sharp, agent-like edge. 

It was a matter of genetics—something even Dunn’s golden touch couldn’t change. 

During Spider-Man’s production, he’d noticed this issue and kept his distance from her. He knew she was being groomed as Endeavor Agency’s top star, but he genuinely couldn’t help her. 

“Hey, Jessica, I heard you landed a new role?” 

“Yeah, Honey. I’m the lead,” Jessica said with a sweet smile that could light up the room. 

“Congrats, that’s awesome.” 

Jessica shook her head modestly, flashing a few pearly whites. “It’s all thanks to Spider-Man’s momentum.” 

Dunn grinned. “Spider-Man’s got a few more sequels coming. Your role’s secure.” 

“Thanks,” Jessica said, pausing to give Dunn a deep look. “No matter what, I owe you. Spider-Man was a turning point in my career.” 

“Heh,” Dunn gave an awkward chuckle, unsure how to respond to that. 

Beyond her face not being “cinematic,” Jessica’s emotional intelligence was another issue. Oblivious to his discomfort, she pursed her lips and whispered, “Dunn, if… you’re ever interested again, I’m here.” 

Cough, cough… 

Dunn nearly choked. 

He knew exactly what she meant, but he had zero interest in rekindling anything intimate with her. 

Favors like that are hard to repay! 

Hollywood’s full of beautiful women. No matter how gorgeous Jessica Alba was, Dunn wasn’t about to complicate his life over a bit of eye candy. 

It was about physical enjoyment, not emotional torture. 

Just then, his assistant, Isla Fisher, swooped in to save the day. 

Petite and dressed in a form-fitting red-and-black striped dress with sky-high heels, she jogged over without a care for appearances, drawing plenty of curious glances. 

“Careful, don’t trip!” Dunn said, startled, rushing to steady her arm. “What’s with the running?” 

Isla, out of breath and ignoring his question, swallowed hard and said urgently, “Eisner… Michael Eisner’s here!” 

“Who?” 

“Disney’s chairman, Michael Eisner!” 

“What?” 

Dunn’s eyes widened, his expression instantly darkening. 

What’s he doing here?