The Oscar nominations were finally out, and Natalie scored one as hoped. With that in the bag, Dunn could flex some serious moves without worry.
He knew the U.S. was a mess right now—terrorism and war had shaken things up, leaving the public rattled. With Republicans in power, racial tensions were spiking too.
An event like the Oscars, with the whole nation watching, had to toe the line of political correctness. It'd stick to a mainstream beat, handing out awards to steer the public narrative.
At first, Dunn was on board with that.
Giving Best Actress and Best Actor to Black performers? One award could steady the ship—a smart trade-off. A stable country meant better business, after all.
But things had shifted.
For Natalie's nomination, Dunn had gone all out—pouring in effort, calling in favors, even sharing his secret sauce, the "blockbuster strategy," just to win over Hollywood's crowd.
All that hustle for a measly nomination? The payoff was way too low.
Plus, he was in a full-on showdown with the Golden Globes and the Hollywood Foreign Press Association—especially Kirk Douglas. The Oscars were his chance to land a sucker punch!
In his study, Dunn slipped on his sunglasses.
Time to rewrite the game!
"Steal the Heavens, Swap the Award" was a new perk from his upgraded system. To unlock it, a film he'd produced had to hit global box-office champ status—and he couldn't use it on himself.
The Unsinkable, with $1.01 billion worldwide, was history's fourth film to cross the billion-dollar mark, earning Dunn that sweet "Steal the Heavens" skill.
As for The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring and The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, cracking $1 billion was a long shot. Current trends pegged Rings at $850-900 million globally and Narnia barely topping $700 million.
Using "Steal the Heavens, Swap the Award" was similar to "Contract Snatch," but with a twist.
"Contract Snatch" swapped out people, subbing in Dunn's pick for whoever was originally signed. "Steal the Heavens" was different—a dropdown menu let him pick an award, followed by a blank slate to fill in a winner.
A small note tagged along: Select the award you want to steal and add the recipient's name.
Dunn studied it for a sec, smirked, and scrolled through the dropdown. He picked the Oscar for Best Actress, then typed in "Natalie Portman."
"Done and dusted!"
He yanked off the sunglasses, locked them in the safe, stretched with a satisfied groan, and let a sly, cold grin creep across his face.
Kirk Douglas, let's see how you explain this one!
Stepping out of the study, he nearly jumped—Scarlett was lurking by the door, sneaky as ever. Good thing he'd locked it during his little stunt.
"What are you doing here?"
"Why'd you lock the door?" Scarlett asked, all puzzled.
Dunn shot her a look. "I was working!"
She pouted, unconvinced. "What kind of work needs a locked door?"
He dodged quick. "Never mind that. Later, grab Anne, Rose, and Abby—tonight, we're all crashing together."
"Huh?"
Scarlett let out a little yelp.
Dunn raised an eyebrow. "What, you don't want to? Fine, forget it then."
She shook her head fast. "I didn't say no! It's just… Natalie's back tomorrow. Don't you want to, like, recharge and… you know, with her?"
Dunn laughed, exasperated, and tapped her forehead. "You think I'm that fragile? Besides, Natalie's not into group chaos like you guys. Handling her? Piece of cake."
Scarlett grinned like she'd caught him slipping, then bolted off, tossing a smug, "I'll tell her when she's back, hmph!" over her shoulder.
---
Roy Disney had a close pal, Stanley Gold—Disney's board member and chair of the governance committee, the biggest thorn in Michael Eisner's side when it came to executive power.
Back in the day, Roy and Stanley teamed up to convince the board to bring Eisner into Disney. Now, they were joining forces again—to boot him out!
The pressure on Michael Eisner was insane.
But then, the landscape flipped!
Since the '90s, corporate scandals had rocked plenty of public companies—Enron, WorldCom, Tyco, Adelphia, Southern Health—casting a dark shadow over that decade's boom.
Then the NASDAQ crashed, and things got uglier. Time Warner's merger with AOL? Widely dubbed the worst business deal ever. (Note)
In most infamous fraud cases, boards were passive, caving too easily, failing shareholders. Disney, though, was a glaring exception!
Eisner's iron-fisted rule at Disney was unyielding—if he didn't greenlight it, it didn't happen!
That stubbornness paid off. He'd nixed a merger with AOL, slamming their stock as "worthless paper."
He was right.
To curb similar scams, Congress had just passed the Sarbanes-Oxley Act. By those standards, Eisner and Disney shone as beacons of ethics and corporate integrity!
Sure, Disney had bled money the past few years, but next to Time Warner's mess? Peanuts.
Suddenly, riding Congress's and the political spotlight's wave, Eisner's star rose again! He was back to being the untouchable business genius, Disney's savior!
With that tailwind, he became a hot commodity in Congress.
Hollywood was rallying hard, lobbying against the piracy surge that was gutting the content industry.
Congress had just sent an official invite: Michael Eisner, Disney's chairman and CEO, was to testify at a House hearing on protecting film and TV from digital theft.
What did that mean?
Eisner was now Hollywood's official mouthpiece!
Following Barry Diller, he was the second guy who could strut around bellowing, "I am Hollywood!" with swagger and pride.
In mere days, Eisner had flipped the script—reclaiming his throne at Disney and winning the board's full support!
Seizing the moment, he struck first. He wielded Sarbanes-Oxley as a club, pointing out Stanley Gold's daughter worked in Disney's consumer products division—tainting his "independent" status and shaking the governance committee's clout.
Then he pushed his loyal ally, George Mitchell, nominating him as co-chair of the committee to box in Stanley. He kept slashing hand-drawn animators, too, chipping away at Roy Disney's sway.
Before anyone could blink, Eisner had worked the system inside and out, flipping the board like a pancake and locking down Disney's reins again!
But then came a curveball.
Dunn figured with Eisner back in control, he'd jump at a partnership with Dunn Films.
Nope—Michael Eisner pulled a Judas move!
He laid bare the ugly side of business in all its glory!
Promises? Friendship? Alliances?
Bullshit—profit was king!
Back when Eisner was desperate, he'd courted Dunn to leverage Dunn Films' muscle, betting it all to save his shaky grip on Disney.
It was a gamble!
But now, he was secure—no need to roll the dice. Why risk it when he could coast?
He ditched Dunn.
Teaming up with Dunn Films meant uncertainty down the road.
With power locked down, stability was his game.
Sure, he'd outmaneuvered Roy Disney and Stanley Gold for now, and that felt great. Why stir the pot and risk Roy's desperate counterattack?
"Eisner, you gave me your word!" Dunn barely held back his fury.
Michael Eisner replied coolly, "Dunn, the Eisner back then isn't the Eisner now. That promise fit that moment—this is a different game."
Dunn took a deep breath, voice low. "Eisner, this… you're throwing away my trust!"
Eisner chuckled. "Dunn, it's not that dramatic. I still look forward to working with Dunn Films—Disney's stability just comes first. You know we're in a slugfest with Viacom right now. ABC and CBS are clawing for market share—I can't stretch myself thin. How about… we revisit this after it blows over?"
Dunn wasn't buying that flimsy excuse.
His tone iced over, anger crackling through the phone. "Eisner, if that's how it is, I might do something reckless."
Eisner's lips twitched, unfazed.
Reckless?
How reckless could you get?
Partner with Roy Disney instead?
Maybe six months ago that could've happened, but now Roy saw through Dunn's ambitions. Team up with him? No way.
Those classic animations were Roy's lifeblood.
Untouchable. Sacred.
"Dunn, don't talk out of anger," Eisner said smugly, brushing him off.
Dunn let out a cold snort. "Anger? We'll see about that!"
He'd been holding an ace up his sleeve—one that could take Eisner's head off in a single swing!
Looked like it was time to play it.
Dunn clenched his jaw, seething.
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