243-245

Chapter 243: Netflix’s Future  

Reed Hastings’ pitch to sell Netflix to Blockbuster for $50 million? Total flop.  

Unless you’re looking at it with some futuristic hindsight, Reed’s failure makes perfect sense.  

It’s the dot-com crash era—internet companies like Netflix are getting the cold shoulder, and that’s no surprise. Over the past few months, more than a hundred tech firms have gone belly-up.  

Even if Netflix’s business model was solid, couldn’t Blockbuster—with all its resources and connections—whip up its own “Netflix” for $50 million?  

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

From the moment he walked in to when he left, it hadn’t even been 20 minutes.  

A faint smirk tugged at Reed Hastings’ lips.  

His assistant, Shawn Anderson, let out a long sigh, his face a mix of bitterness and frustration.  

The Netflix sale falling through meant the company’s cash flow was about to dry up. If they didn’t want to shut down, there was only one option left: layoffs.  

Shawn’s position was shaky. If Netflix started cutting jobs, they’d keep the core team, and even as Reed’s assistant, he’d be on the chopping block.  

He snuck a cautious glance at Reed, expecting disappointment or despair after the failed talks. Instead, he was stunned to see a flicker of sarcasm and mockery on his boss’s face.  

When Reed shot a disdainful look back at Blockbuster, Shawn’s eyes nearly popped out.  

Boss, seriously? You’re still dreaming about Blockbuster refusing to adapt and crashing down?  

Even if Blockbuster was doomed, with its massive assets and clout, it’d take a decade to burn through everything. Netflix, on the other hand? Without cash soon, bankruptcy was staring them down.  

Reed caught Shawn’s panicked expression and smiled lightly. “Hey, Shawn, ever seen a movie called Wedding Crashers?”  

“Yeah, funny comedy. Dunn Pictures made it, right? I know that one,” Shawn replied, nodding mechanically.  

Reed grinned. “Do you know who the lead actress was?”  

Shawn tilted his head, thinking for a second, then shook it. “Just remember she was this sweet, cute girl. Some small-time actress.”  

“Her name’s Reese. Reese Witherspoon.”  

“Oh, right, Witherspoon!”  

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

The two strolled away from Blockbuster’s HQ, and Reed said slowly, “Funny thing is, Miss Witherspoon and us? We’ve got a little connection.”  

Shawn laughed, shaking his head. “Reed, you’re a riot. Sure, we’re in the movie biz, but we’re miles away from Hollywood stars.”  

Reed gave him a deep look. “Shawn, I’ve told you before—keep an eye on our alumni network. It’s good for business!”  

Shawn blinked, confused. “Alumni network? Wait, is Reese Witherspoon a Stanford grad too? No way!”  

Reed smirked, half-laughing. “Surprised?”  

“What? For real?”  

Shawn’s jaw dropped a little.  

Reed squinted at the traffic in the distance. “You know Google, right? The world’s top search engine. Founded by two of our Stanford buddies—well, underclassmen, technically. When Google needed funding, they got to Dunn Walker through Reese Witherspoon’s connection.”  

“Dunn Walker?” Shawn’s eyes lit up, even more shocked. “You mean the Hollywood Dunn?”  

“Yup, that’s him,” Reed said with a chuckle. “You might not know this, but Miss Witherspoon’s his secretary.”  

Shawn’s mouth opened, then froze, his expression stiffening.  

Something this big, tied to his own alumni circle, and he had no clue? Talk about embarrassing.  

“Reed, I think I get it. You’re thinking… we could reach Dunn Walker through our Stanford sis?”  

“Exactly!”  

Shawn frowned, mulling it over. “Tough sell. I’m a Dunn fan—I know a bit about him. Half a year ago, he made a killing in the stock market, landed on the rich list. But… he’s still an outsider.”  

He didn’t spell it out, but the subtext was clear.  

Not long ago, Dunn had sunk a fortune into Apple stock and even joined their board. To Shawn, that was basically throwing money away—downright dumb.  

Reed, though, paused, deep in thought. Was Dunn really clueless about investing?  

Sure, the Apple move was baffling. But Google? That was booming. And then there was another internet company…  

“By the way, heard about that company rebrand?”  

Their core business overlapped with online payments, something Netflix dabbled in too, so Shawn perked up. “Yeah, they rebranded. The company bought Xfinity, merged, and now it’s called PayPal. Once they’re fully integrated, PayPal’s gonna be the top online payment platform.”  

At that, both Shawn and Reed’s faces lit up with a flicker of excitement.  

Maybe Dunn’s investment game wasn’t so weak after all!  

Google was already the king of search engines, and PayPal was on track to dominate online payments.  

Better yet, Netflix’s online payment system—where users paid to rent movies—lined up perfectly with PayPal. They could totally team up and win together!  

And Netflix wasn’t just some pure internet play—it tied into movies too. Dunn, a Hollywood heavy hitter who’d even invested in Hasbro, wouldn’t blink at a downstream video rental gig, right?  

“Back when Google and that company got funding, Reese Witherspoon was the one pulling strings. If Dunn’s as sharp as Wall Street says, he’d see Netflix’s potential in a heartbeat!”  

Reed clenched his fist, determination flashing across his face.  

Blockbuster had been his top pick, but they were too big, too arrogant to care about Netflix.  

Now, there was just one shot left: Dunn Capital.  

Dunn’s name carried weight in Hollywood, Wall Street, and Silicon Valley. If he lived up to the hype, he’d step in to save Netflix, right?  

This was their last lifeline.  

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

He believed in Netflix’s model with every fiber of his being. No funding? Fine—he’d push forward anyway. Slash salaries, cut staff, dip into his own pockets if he had to.  

Netflix would have a future!  

…  

Another weekend rolled around, and for Dunn, it was good news galore.  

First, Johnny Depp officially signed a five-movie deal with Dunn Pictures. Top pay: $20 million. First flick, Pirates League: Curse of the Black Pearl, locked in at $8 million.  

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

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

Fourth, Dunn’s private Gulfstream V jet was finally decked out and ready to fly!  

With Disney’s drama taking a new turn and Spider-Man smashing Star Wars records, it was a double win. Tradition called for a celebration bash.  

Bill Mechanic invited Dunn to swing by LA that weekend—hang out, have some fun, and talk about the “ban” situation.  

With his new private plane ready, Dunn was pumped. First jet he’d ever owned, this life or the last!  

He roped in Natalie, plus A Beautiful Mind stars Crowe Russell and Nicole Kidman, and they hopped on his Gulfstream V, jetting from the Atlantic’s west coast to the Pacific’s east.  

The Gulfstream V was top-tier for business jets back then, but space was tight—six seats max. Forget a bedroom, bar, or bathroom; that was Boeing 747 territory, not Gulfstream.  

Still, Gulfstreams were sleek, handy, and cheap to run—about $3 million a year in costs. Compare that to a 747 private jet, which came with four or five flight attendants standard. Gulfstreams? One was plenty.  

Speaking of flight attendants, Dunn’s eyes couldn’t help drifting to the lone one on board.  

She rocked a red-and-white uniform, mid-twenties, sexy and stunning. Catching Dunn’s gaze, she flashed a warm smile.  

The crew—pilot, attendant, all of it—came courtesy of Gulfstream. If the client wasn’t happy, they could swap them out.  

As private jet attendants go, she was cream-of-the-crop American talent.  

But Dunn felt something was off—missing a little flavor.  

She was gorgeous, no doubt, but lacked that soft, gentle, refined vibe he’d seen in Asian flight attendants.  

“Okay, stop staring! You’ll scare her off!” Natalie whispered, giving his arm a sneaky pinch.  

Dunn flinched slightly and muttered, “Relax, I’m not into her!”  

“Yeah, right!”  

Chapter 244: The Final Stronghold 

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

“Holding back? What do you mean?”  

“Women.”  

Dunn couldn’t help but chuckle, coughing lightly before lowering his voice. “Well… truth is, in the crew, Nicole and I have been living together the whole time.”  

“She’s an old flame—doesn’t count,” Natalie said, rolling her eyes. She grinned mischievously. “I’ve been watching. The A Beautiful Mind set’s got plenty of pretty girls. Knowing you, back in the day, two weeks of filming would’ve meant a trail of broken hearts.”  

“Come on, it’s not that bad!” Dunn shot her a look.  

Every film crew has its share of gorgeous girls, especially a movie like A Beautiful Mind with its college campus setting. But most are extras or hopefuls on the fringes. The only actress with real name recognition? Nicole Kidman.  

Hollywood’s full of temptresses, and even with Dunn’s stamina, he couldn’t possibly… date them all. He had to pick and choose the best.  

Especially with some of the lower-tier actresses—those on the outskirts desperate to climb the ladder—they’d pull out all the stops, no holds barred, consequences be damned.  

Sleep with the wrong one, and the fallout could outweigh the fun.  

By comparison, the bigger the star, the safer the bet.  

“You know I’m in a big fight with Disney right now,” Dunn said, shaking his head. “I’m trying not to give them any dirt to use against me. For all I know, some of those pretty girls on set could be Disney plants.” It wasn’t paranoia—it was a real possibility.  

Natalie smirked, teasing him. “Here I thought you were some untouchable wild card. Turns out you do get scared!”  

Dunn huffed. “I’m bold, not stupid!”  

Natalie covered her mouth, giggling uncontrollably.  

Just then, Dunn’s phone buzzed. He glanced down—Reese Witherspoon.  

“Reese, what’s up?”  

“Well, there’s something… Uh, you know how a bunch of my Stanford alumni are into startups, especially in Silicon Valley?” Reese sounded a little sheepish. Lately, six or seven of her old classmates had leaned on her to connect them with Dunn. Most were tech companies floundering in the dot-com crash, hoping for a lifeline from his cash.  

Dunn’s money didn’t grow on trees. He only threw it at Wall Street or Silicon Valley because he had foresight—an edge.  

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

“Reese,” he said coolly, “next time, just stall them if you can. The tech crash is a tidal wave—I’m no insider with the power to turn it around.”  

“I get that, but they’re so earnest. And… one’s a much older alum—I couldn’t brush him off easily,” Reese said, a bit awkwardly.  

“Alright, fine. What’s the company?” Dunn had already turned down a slew of funding pleas—what’s one more?  

“It’s an online video rental thing…”  

“No need to ramble!” Dunn cut her off. Plane calls were spotty anyway, so he kept it sharp. “Just give me the name.”  

“Netflix.”  

“What?”  

“Netflix!”  

Dunn sat up straight, pulling away from Natalie, his face lighting up with excitement. “You mean… the Netflix that does online video rentals?”  

“Yep. Wait—you’ve heard of them?”  

Dunn nearly burst out laughing.  

Heard of them?  

They were a thunderclap in his ears!  

Right now, Dunn was practically taking on Hollywood single-handedly. With his “sunglasses system” and prophetic edge, he’d gathered some serious mojo.  

Even so, surviving Hollywood was a grind. Disney alone had nearly wiped him out.  

But Netflix? In the real world, they’d gone toe-to-toe with all of Hollywood—and won!  

As the internet rose, Hollywood’s old-school ways were slowly drowning. Movies and TV weren’t their exclusive turf anymore.  

Streaming flipped the game upside down. Giants like 20th Century Fox and Time Warner faced pressure from streamers, forced to sell off chunks of themselves.  

And leading that charge? Netflix!  

Netflix wouldn’t fully dive into streaming for another decade.  

Hollywood had seen the internet’s threat coming, though. Back in 2007, Fox, Disney, Universal, and others launched Hulu, a streaming site with unbeatable library muscle thanks to their backing.  

But when Netflix stepped up, years of perfecting online rentals, payments, and streaming gave them a massive edge. Their user base and know-how catapulted them forward.  

Even with Hollywood tying their hands on licensing, Netflix pivoted fast—original shows. That move sent them soaring, especially with House of Cards, a hit that echoed worldwide and pushed their valuation to $70 billion!  

Add up every other streaming company’s worth—they still didn’t touch Netflix.  

Later, they got gutsy, making movies. Hollywood kept them in check, and the Motion Picture Association audits were a hassle.  

Did Netflix care? Nope. Their films skipped theaters, going straight to subscribers online.  

That gamble paid off big—their value shot past $120 billion!  

Compare that: Time Warner sold for $85 billion. Fox’s core assets? $71 billion.  

And now, in the middle of this tech crash, that legendary company was begging Reese Witherspoon to get Dunn’s attention for funding.  

It was laughable—and ironic as hell.  

“Reese, tell your alum I’m impressed with Netflix’s online-offline combo. Have him meet me… let’s say the morning after tomorrow, at my office!”  

Dunn fought to keep his excitement in check, already picturing a towering future.  

Netflix was his final stronghold!  

Sure, Dunn had a cheat code in Hollywood, but that didn’t mean he could do whatever he wanted. Disney’s pressure alone often left him scrambling.  

What if… one day, he pissed off the wrong people and Hollywood turned on him? Or Disney dangled enough cash to unite the other giants against Dunn Films?  

Even with his edge, he’d be toast against that kind of mob.  

Lately, that fear had weighed heavy on him.  

But Netflix? It was a lifeline!  

His last bastion!  

If Dunn Films crashed and burned, if he got booted from Hollywood—no sweat. He’d still have Netflix.  

With that shell and the internet’s reach, he could still shake up movies and TV from the outside.  

And then? No more playing nice, no more Hollywood rules—he’d swing big and bold!  

Hollywood’s strong, but Netflix doesn’t flinch!  

Of course, that’s a last resort. Dunn wouldn’t ditch Hollywood unless he had no choice.  

He let out a long breath, stretched, and grinned.  

Talk about luck—Netflix dropping into his lap right now? It’s a dragon egg, its glow still hidden.  

Once it hatches, that dragon’s taking flight!  

Before, the “package investment plan” was Dunn’s ace, Dunn Films’ lifeline.  

But now? His confidence was sky-high. Compared to that, Netflix was the real trump card! 

Chapter 245: Ace vs. Ace (Part 1) 

With Spider-Man raking in over $1.19 billion worldwide, making it the second-highest-grossing film in history behind Titanic, it was only natural for Dunn Pictures to throw a massive celebration bash.  

Bill Mechanic, the president of Dunn Pictures, personally handled the arrangements. The party was set at the Hilton in Beverly Hills, with bigwigs from Universal Pictures, Marvel Entertainment, and Marvel Studios on the guest list—not to mention the Spider-Man crew.  

It was a formal affair. Dunn and Natalie showed up dressed to the nines, right on time, instantly stealing the spotlight.  

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

“Director! Long time no see—you’re looking great!” James Franco had sharp eyes—or maybe he’d been watching the entrance. The second Dunn appeared, he darted over, flashing a bit of a suck-up grin. He even tossed a compliment Natalie’s way. “Miss Portman, that dress tonight? Stunning.”  

“Thanks,” Natalie replied with a small, professional smile.  

Dunn, though, stayed cool as a cucumber.  

There was a time he’d seen big potential in James Franco—dreamed of molding him into a Leonardo DiCaprio-level star.  

But during the Disney-Dunn Pictures feud, Franco had played it vague, refusing to pick a side. That tanked Dunn’s opinion of him fast.  

Smarts? Emotional intelligence? Franco was top-tier among actors. Too smart, maybe—always trying to ride the fence, play both sides, never ruffling feathers.  

Dunn couldn’t stand that kind of person.  

Take Mel Gibson: people trashed him, called him dumb, hotheaded, even racist. But when push came to shove, his “dumb” loyalty and guts earned Dunn’s respect for life.  

Looking at Franco now, Dunn’s old warmth was gone. He gave a stiff, professional smile. “Seems like you’re doing well. Keep in shape—six months from now, we’re kicking off the Spider-Man sequel.”  

“I know, heh, I’ve got a nutritionist on it. By the time we shoot the sequel, I’ll be in even better shape than I am now!” Franco had signed a mega-deal with Marvel Studios—locked into the Spider-Man role for at least the next 20 years.  

He’d come to terms with it. Spider-Man was a global sensation, and that role was destined to shower him with unmatched fame. From here on out, he’d live and breathe Spider-Man, onscreen and off.  

After some small talk, Jessica Alba wandered over, a little late to the party. Her gaze at Dunn was layered with something complicated.  

Natalie, well aware the two had a fling, made up an excuse and slipped off to chat with someone else.  

Seeing Jessica Alba stirred mixed feelings in Dunn.  

Their fling had been short-lived—over as soon as Spider-Man wrapped.  

She’d landed the female lead partly thanks to James Cameron’s nudge, and partly because Dunn couldn’t resist her looks.  

But filming Spider-Man brought out a problem—one he hadn’t hit with Titanic, My Big Fat Greek Wedding, or Star Wars: Episode I.  

Jessica Alba’s face… it was a nightmare to shoot.  

In his past life, she’d been a Cameron favorite yet stayed stuck in B-list territory for a reason.  

Looks-wise, Jessica was drop-dead gorgeous—flawless, even. She outshone Dunn’s past leading ladies like Kate Winslet, Nicole Kidman, and Natalie Portman in raw beauty.  

But movies aren’t static photos. It’s a flowing art form, and being pretty didn’t guarantee looking good on film.  

If it did, Hollywood wouldn’t bother with huge casting calls—just pluck models from Victoria’s Secret, home to the world’s prettiest faces.  

Truth is, those VS angel faces were built for flat shots. They were 2D—think modern influencer vibes. Movies needed 3D faces.  

Take Kate Winslet in Titanic. When the camera circled her in a full 360, you didn’t just stay hooked—you drowned in the beauty and romance.  

Jessica Alba, though? She gave Dunn headaches on Spider-Man.  

Every shot of her face had to nail the perfect angle to look stunning—like those influencers who only shine at a 45-degree selfie tilt.  

It’s not that other angles made her ugly—they just didn’t match.  

A 360 spin around Kate Winslet? Seamless, constant beauty. Jessica? Nope.  

From the front, her face was soft, delicate, blooming like a flower—peak Asian aesthetic.  

But shift the angle, and it flipped. Mixed-race or not, her Caucasian traits dominated: deep-set eyes, sharp nose, chiseled jaw. That screamed strength, defiance—total Western vibe, clashing hard with her front-facing softness.  

Front: Asian-style gentle beauty. Side: Western-style sharp coolness.  

In movies, a role’s depth leans heavy on facial expressions. Jessica’s face just wasn’t cut for nuanced, multi-angle close-ups.  

That boxed her in—narrowed her range. For something like Dark Angel, they ditched frontal shots for side angles to play up her tough-agent edge.  

It was a natural limit. Even Dunn, with his golden touch, couldn’t fix it.  

During Spider-Man, he’d clocked the issue and kept his distance. He knew she was Endeavor Agency’s golden girl, groomed by Ari Emanuel to be their top star.  

But Dunn couldn’t help her there.  

“Hey, Jessica, heard you snagged a new role?”  

“Yeah, Beyond Paradise. I’m the lead,” she said with a sweet smile that could light up the whole party.  

“Oh, nice! Congrats.”  

She shook her head modestly, flashing pearly whites. “All thanks to Spider-Man’s boost.”  

Dunn grinned. “We’ve got a few more Spider-Man movies coming. Your role’s safe.”  

“Thanks.” She paused, giving him a deep look. “No matter what, I owe you. Spider-Man was a game-changer for me.”  

“Heh.”  

Dunn let out an awkward laugh. Tough topic to roll with.  

Beyond her tricky face, Jessica’s EQ was a weak spot too. She didn’t catch his discomfort, pursing her lips and dropping her voice. “Dunn, if… you ever want to, I’m still up for it anytime.”  

“Cough—!”  

Dunn nearly choked.  

He knew exactly what she meant, but he had zero interest in rekindling anything physical—or friendly-plus.  

Favors like that are a pain to repay!  

Hollywood’s full of gorgeous women. Even with Jessica’s looks, Dunn wasn’t about to twist himself into knots over a fling.  

He was in it for fun, not torture.  

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

Petite and peppy, she rocked a tight red-and-black striped dress and sky-high heels, trotting over without a care for grace. Heads turned.  

“Careful—don’t trip!”  

Dunn flinched, rushing a couple steps to grab her arm. “Why’re you running?”  

Isla, panting, ignored his question. She swallowed hard, voice tense. “Eisner… Eisner’s here!”  

“Who?”  

“Disney’s chairman, Michael Eisner!”  

“What?”  

Dunn’s eyes shot wide, his face darkening in an instant.  

What the hell was he doing here?