Harry had just started sketching out his take on Macbeth when Peter Safran walked in with a clear decision.
They found themselves in Harry's study, where sunlight streamed over scattered notes and open reference books. Unlike their previous meeting in London, Peter seemed more resolute this time.
"I left," Peter stated matter-of-factly.
Harry glanced up from his notebook, surprised. "Left?"
"Brillstein Grey. The UK division. Talent management," Peter explained with a slight shrug. "I made the move to Los Angeles last week."
Harry leaned back, taking him in. "That's quite a leap."
"It is," Peter acknowledged. "But I didn't come here to manage careers indefinitely. I want to come to Hollywood. Does your offer still stand?"
A faint smile appeared on Harry's lips. "Well, welcome to the chaos."
Peter chuckled softly. "I figured there would be some."
Harry stood up. "Come on. Let me show you what you're getting into."
----
They drove over to Burbank.
Warner Bros had set them up with sound stages for The Prestige. It was one of those little ironies that Harry found amusing—WB executives still a bit hesitant around him in meetings, yet their studio was currently hosting his production.
As soon as they stepped onto Stage 16, Peter slowed down.
Gas lamps flickered. Brick façades stood tall. Victorian alleyways were recreated with incredible attention to detail. Assistants bustled about in period waistcoats, while extras waited patiently as a costume designer made final adjustments to a sleeve seam.
"Late nineteenth century London," Harry remarked. "Christopher wanted it to have texture. Real, authentic grime."
Peter took it all in thoughtfully. "It feels way too real. Like people have lived in it."
"That's the whole point."
Across the stage, Greg was standing next to Christopher Nolan, both of them focused on a lighting rig while going over a shot list. A camera crane towered above them, with technicians fine-tuning the angles.
Harry and Peter made their way over.
Greg was the first to notice. "You're supposed to be writing," he said with a hint of dryness.
"I am," Harry shot back. "Just between field trips."
Greg reached out his hand to Peter. "And you are?"
"Peter Safran. Looks like I've volunteered for this," Peter replied.
Greg offered a faint smile. "Well, welcome aboard."
Harry looked around the set. "How's everything going?"
Christopher Nolan gestured toward the set. "Going smoothly. Hugh and Christian are both all in. Michael's as reliable as ever. And Scarlett? She's full of surprises."
Harry nodded in approval. "That's good to hear."
He turned back to Greg.
"I was just thinking," Harry said casually, "about how swamped you must be."
Greg blinked in surprise. "That's a new one."
Harry gave Peter's shoulder a friendly pat. "I brought you some help."
Greg raised an eyebrow, looking at Peter.
Peter smiled, a bit awkward but steady. "I pick things up quickly."
Harry continued, "He'll shadow you for now. Learn the production workflow, budget oversight, studio negotiations. Once he's got the hang of it, he can take on a slate."
Greg studied Peter for a moment.
Then he nodded slowly. "All right. Follow me."
Peter trailed behind Greg toward the craft services table, already firing off questions about budgeting and schedule compression.
Harry watched them leave before turning to Christopher.
"I've heard," Christopher said with a casual tone, "that you've been pitching something pretty wild at DC."
Harry scratched his head, a bit defensive. "It's not wild."
"A cinematic universe?" Christopher pressed on.
"Yep."
Christopher mulled it over. "Interconnected stories. A long-term plan."
"Exactly."
Christopher crossed his arms, a hint of skepticism in his posture. "That's ambitious."
"It's doable."
Christopher tilted his head, curious. "Financially?"
Harry didn't skip a beat. "Absolutely."
Christopher studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly.
"What's next on your plate?"
Harry paused for just a second.
"A modern take on Macbeth."
Christopher's eyes lit up with intrigue. "A straight adaptation?"
"Keeping the spirit, but reimagining the setting. More contemporary."
Christopher probed about the tone, the visual style, the structure.
Harry responded thoughtfully—lean, tense, intimate. Less about theatrics, more about psychology. It's a dive into ambition, framed by today's power struggles.
Just then, an assistant director approached, clipboard in hand.
"Chris, we're all set on camera two. Lighting's good to go."
Christopher nodded. "Excuse me."
As he walked away, Harry remained where he was for a moment, watching the machinery of production unfold.
Crew members moved with purpose. Cables coiled.
After a few minutes, he left quietly.
----
At Jackson Multimedia, Rachel Jackson was seated at the long mahogany boardroom table, her fingers pressed flat against a stack of legal documents.
Mason stood next to her, his voice rising in intensity.
"You can't dilute voting power without the shareholders' approval," Mason shot back at the board members. "We're going to fight this."
One of the directors calmly adjusted his glasses. "You're welcome to take legal action."
Rachel's expression was icy. "We will."
The board's efforts to tighten their grip and push the Jackson family aside had crossed a line.
Rachel was no longer going to sit back and take it.
And neither was Mason.
----
Five weeks later, Harry found himself alone in his study.
The house was eerily quiet.
Piles of drafts lay scattered at his feet, notes scribbled in the margins. Character arcs had been jotted down and rewritten.
He slowly set his pen down.
The final page was right in front of him.
He read the last line once more.