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🕑 Added 2025-06-17 16:42:39 +0000 UTCChapter 268: I Want It! I Want It!
Dunn flew back to Los Angeles again.
After getting his hands on the Gulfstream V jet, he’d originally planned to take a trip to the Unsinkable film crew. On one hand, he wanted to nudge James Cameron to speed up the shooting schedule; on the other, he was looking forward to enjoying some quality time with both Charlize Theron and Liv Tyler.
Unfortunately, he was just too busy to make it happen.
Back in Hollywood, Dunn’s first stop was checking in on Legendary Pictures’ business, especially the “portfolio investment” project they’d kicked off with Warner Bros.
Thankfully, everything was going smoothly.
Warner had greenlit a new film project—the first-ever movie funded through portfolio investment: Training Day. It was a $50 million crime action flick starring Denzel Washington and Ethan Hawke.
It was a guy-centric movie, so Penelope Cruz wasn’t involved. Instead, she’d landed a role in another Warner project that was about to get off the ground—a drama called Hearts in Atlantis, led by Oscar-winner Anthony Hopkins, where she’d play the female lead.
Penelope had been buzzing with excitement for days about this. Acting alongside Mr. Hopkins felt like a dream come true.
Dunn, though, wasn’t as impressed.
Hearts in Atlantis? Never heard of it. Probably a flop!
Anthony Hopkins starring in it didn’t mean much to him. It seemed like Penelope’s next lead role would need some personal intervention from Dunn—he’d have to talk to Warner himself to set her up with something better. Their production department didn’t exactly inspire confidence.
Next, Dunn reached out to GA Entertainment for an update. To his surprise, Isaac Larian responded with almost comical humility, acting like Dunn’s loyal sidekick. He even showed up in person at Dunn Films to give a full rundown.
On the issue of the Bezz doll copyright, Isaac had a simple, permanent fix: throw money at it! GA would pay to sign a buyout agreement for the Bezz dolls. After all, the designer, Bryant, had already left Mattel and jumped ship to GA. Given Mattel’s shortsighted execs and their obsession with quick cash, securing the buyout wouldn’t be a problem.
Dunn was pleased with Isaac’s efficiency. He took a good look at the Bezz doll samples Isaac brought along, and finally, they got to the last topic—financing.
Isaac showed maximum sincerity again, valuing GA Entertainment at $20 million—the same price he’d paid to buy out his brother’s shares a few months back. Dunn didn’t hesitate. Through Dunn Capital, he invested $10 million for a 49% stake in the company.
These days, Dunn carried himself like a big-shot boss. His every word was final, and the details were left to his team to handle.
By the afternoon, after wrapping up all that, Dunn finally had time to meet with David Heyman.
David ran a small production company in the UK, but thanks to his Hollywood connections, he had some serious clout in the British film scene. The Narnia project had practically made the entire UK industry green with envy.
Still, Dunn knew The Chronicles of Narnia was destined to be a series that started strong but fizzled out fast. Only the first film had real profit potential.
Dunn had high hopes for David and wasn’t about to let him sink all his energy into Narnia. Now that the movie had wrapped filming and moved into post-production—with Warner’s production team overseeing it—David could step away.
“David, how’re you holding up? Still got some energy left?” Dunn cut straight to the chase.
David knew Dunn had flown back from shooting in Boston just to see him, so it had to be something big. “Of course!” he said eagerly. “New Zealand’s got a great vibe—really rejuvenating.”
Dunn grinned. “Good to hear. The Harry Potter series has finally taken off across the U.S., and I hear it’s been translated and published in a bunch of European countries too. Things are looking up.”
David’s eyes lit up. “Dunn, are you saying… you’re ready to greenlight Harry Potter?”
“Exactly!” Dunn didn’t hold back. “David, we go way back. You helped a ton when we secured the Harry Potter rights, and now I’m gonna need you again.”
“No trouble at all—none!” David couldn’t hide his excitement.
Harry Potter was already a household name in the U.S., and in the UK, it was even bigger. The movies hadn’t even started, and it was already a cultural phenomenon. Kids in schools were obsessed—practically everyone had a set of the books. Rumor had it even Prime Minister Blair was a fan.
Having produced Narnia, if David could add Harry Potter to his resume, he’d be an absolute titan in the UK film world.
Dunn nodded. “Harry Potter has a ton of characters, and at the start, they’re all kids. Casting’s gonna be a huge challenge.”
David agreed completely. “Yeah, especially since this series could run seven films. If it goes well, these kid actors will be filming for at least a decade!”
“Exactly. That’s why we’ve got to be thorough and careful with casting—think it through from every angle. Family stuff matters too. We don’t want to deal with weird parents—that’s just a headache waiting to happen,” Dunn said, frowning.
“I get it,” David replied. “Luckily, we’ve got experience from the big casting calls for Narnia. But Harry Potter has more characters and way more complexity. I think… we should spend at least six months locking down a solid group of young actors. Then do about three months of training and observation to make sure they’re really up for it before signing contracts. We can shoot next summer during their break.”
“Sounds like a solid plan. I’ll take the top producer credit, but I’m swamped, so you’ll need to handle the casting and filming details. Keep everything on track.”
“Got it… Oh, what about the director? Their style’s gonna shape the casting big time.”
Dunn smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ve already talked to the production team. It’s Chris Columbus!”
“Chris Columbus? The Home Alone guy?”
“Yup, that’s him!”
“An American director…”
Dunn’s face darkened. “David, we’re making a commercial blockbuster here. It’s all about the market! Don’t hit me with that J.K. Rowling purist stuff.”
David chuckled awkwardly. “That’s not what I meant…”
Dunn waved him off. “One more thing—contracts. We’re doing eight Harry Potter films. Eight, no question! So don’t hold back on this. Be tough up front, lock it down. We can’t let them come back later with crazy demands if the movies blow up.”
That was a lesson learned the hard way.
In his past life, when Warner made Harry Potter, the books were already a hit thanks to early hype. Still, adapting them into films was a gamble. Following Hollywood’s usual playbook, Warner signed the kid actors to three-film deals.
Then the movies exploded.
When those three-film contracts ran out, the actors demanded insane paychecks—some even wanted a cut of the box office!
Back in the ‘90s, profit-sharing with actors was a thing. But with portfolio investments easing the financial strain on studios, giving up future box office cuts to offset high salaries had become rare.
Those young actors, though, knew Harry Potter was too big to recast. They soft-blackmailed Warner. After failed negotiations, Warner caved, handing out fat contracts with profit-sharing.
Harry Potter 4 went ahead, raking in global sales. That’s when Hollywood’s savvy kicked in.
Warner, outsmarted by a bunch of kids? Please.
After the film wrapped, some internal “adjustments” showed that a movie with nearly $100 million in ticket sales somehow lost $20 million. No profits, no payouts!
The young actors had to eat the loss and learned their lesson. For the next few films, they dropped the profit-sharing demands.
But it left Warner—and Hollywood—with a bad rep. Dunn wasn’t about to let that mess happen again. Long-term contracts would lock everyone in tight.
Just like with “Spider-Man” James Franco.
Try playing games with me? Good luck!
…
“Wow! Dunn, you’re here!” Taylor Swift bounded over in a yellow dress, her golden hair neatly braided into two little pigtails. She looked like a doll—cute and perfect.
Andrea Swift frowned the second she heard it. “Taylor, it’s Uncle Dunn!”
Little Taylor stuck out her tongue in a big goofy face.
Dunn just laughed. He didn’t mind at all. Reaching into his trench coat pocket, he pulled out a doll and handed it over. “A gift for you.”
“A Barbie?” Taylor scrunched her nose and waved a tiny fist. “No way! I’m too old for that. I’m all about feminism now!”
Andrea chuckled. “Ever since she heard your speech on women’s rights, she tossed out all her Barbies and Disney princesses. Says she’s gonna be an independent, modern woman.”
“That’s a great goal!” Dunn said with a grin. “But… take another look. Is this really a Barbie?”
“Huh?”
Taylor’s eyes widened as she stared at the fashion doll in Dunn’s hand. “Oh! It’s not! Wow, it’s so cool! I want it! I want it! Gimme, gimme, please, Dunn, I want it!”
She didn’t mean anything by it, but Andrea’s face turned red. She couldn’t scold her or explain it away—just stood there, mortified.
The doll in Dunn’s hand was a Bezz doll sample from Isaac Larian. He dodged Taylor’s playful chase around the room, laughing. It was fun—until her words started sinking in.
Wait… that could be taken the wrong way!
Dunn coughed awkwardly. “Alright, alright, here you go!”
He tossed it lightly, and—oops—it landed right in the gap behind the couch.
Taylor pouted, grumbling, “Dunn, you’re so mean! You got it stuck!”
“It wasn’t on purpose,” Dunn said, throwing up his hands.
Taylor fished out the Bezz doll, now dusted with grime from the crevice. “Ugh, you got it all dirty!”
“Just wash it.”
“You wash it for me!”
“Fine.”
“Never mind, let’s do it together.”
…
Andrea Swift listened to their back-and-forth, her expression growing weirder by the second. Her legs felt like jelly.
What a mess!
Chapter 269: Dunn Puts Someone in Their Place
“So… her name’s Bratz?”
“Yeah.”
“Ugh, what an awful name. Did you come up with it?”
“Nope.”
“Didn’t think so.” Little Taylor curled up on the couch, half-leaning against Dunn. “But there’s only one doll here. When are they hitting the stores?”
Dunn thought for a second. “Officially, next year, I think? But they should be mass-produced by the end of this year.”
Taylor’s eyes lit up instantly. She sat up straight, beaming at him. “Then you’ve gotta snag me a few sets early so I can show off to my friends!”
Dunn frowned. “Taylor, showing off isn’t a good look.”
She giggled, brushing it off with a playful wink and lowering her voice. “Dunn, can I ask you for a favor?”
“Let’s hear it.”
“I heard there’s a big angel model show in New York next month!”
“Huh?” Dunn raised an eyebrow, surprised. “You mean… Victoria’s Secret?”
“Yes, yes, that secret! I saw the promo—it’s all these women with amazing bodies… wow, they’re gorgeous!” Taylor waved her hands, dramatically tracing curves in the air.
Dunn couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s not up to me. You’d have to ask your mom.”
“She’s getting stricter by the day. No way she’d say yes,” Taylor grumbled, pouting unhappily.
Dunn shrugged, spreading his hands. “Then I’m out of luck here. She’s your guardian.”
Taylor puffed out her cheeks, looking pitiful as she sniffled. “But… I miss Dad. He hasn’t been home in two months.”
That hit Dunn like a punch. He felt a little guilty.
Her dad, Scott Swift, was the general manager at Dunn Capital, stationed in Manhattan, busy handling Dunn’s stock trades.
After a moment’s pause, Dunn sighed. “Alright, fine. Next month, I’ll make time to take you to New York to see your dad.”
“Whoa! Can I watch the show too?” Taylor’s big eyes sparkled with excitement and hope.
“No way!” Dunn shook his head firmly. “A supermodel runway show… it’s a bit too risqué for you.”
Taylor wasn’t having it. “That’s not fair! I’m a girl too—why can’t I watch?” she protested, biting her lip, tears welling up.
But Dunn didn’t budge, so she switched tactics, taking a sly detour. “Okay… how about this? I’ll tell you a secret, and you take me to the show. Deal?”
“A secret?” Dunn glanced at her. “What kind?”
Taylor grinned mischievously, sneaking a peek at her mom’s spot before whispering in his ear, “A boy in my class is chasing me.”
“What?!”
Dunn froze. How old are you, kid? American teens are way too grown-up for their age!
Her clever eyes twinkled as she giggled. “His name’s Parker. Super cute. And he brings me pastries his mom makes every day—they’re so sweet!”
Dunn took a deep breath, turned to face her, and gripped her little shoulders. “Taylor, you’re too young to be thinking about this stuff,” he said sternly.
“Why not?” She blinked rapidly, confused.
“Because you’re a girl. It’s easy to get taken advantage of,” Dunn said, his brow furrowing.
“No way! Parker’s really nice to me.”
“I said no, and that’s final!” Dunn’s tone turned unusually harsh as he scolded her. “Keep arguing, and I won’t get you any more gifts. I’ll even tell your parents to punish you.”
Taylor slapped the couch cushion with her tiny hand, fuming. “That’s not fair!”
Dunn replied coolly, “Life’s never been fair.”
She sulked for a bit, noticing Dunn wasn’t thrilled either. But the little girl was clingy and sharp. Soon, she plastered on a smile and scooted closer. “Dunn, I was just messing with you.”
“Hm?”
“I was kidding! I don’t even like Parker that much. So… if you take me to the show, I’ll set things straight with him when I get back to school. Tell him to stop bugging me. How’s that?”
Dunn hadn’t expected to be outsmarted by a kid, but her offer wasn’t half bad. No point in sweating the small stuff.
“For real?”
“Totally!” Taylor stuck out her pinky. “We can pinky swear on it.”
“Deal!”
Dunn finally cracked a smile, patting her head. “That’s more like it. Girls should behave.”
Taylor pressed her lips together, holding back a smug grin as she bobbed her head triumphantly. Dunn, meanwhile, raised an eyebrow.
The Victoria’s Secret show? Might be worth checking out! Especially since he had two stunning angel supermodels—Alessandra Ambrosio and Adriana Lima—living in his Manhattan townhouse. He’d bought the place through Scott Swift and set them up there, but he hadn’t even visited yet. And with all those angelic beauties strutting the runway, it was hard not to get excited.
The thought alone sent a warm rush through him.
…
Dunn’s pitch for American Idol was pretty straightforward—just a basic concept and framework. He was an outsider to TV production, so the nitty-gritty planning and details were obviously left to the pros.
He wasn’t about to waste time meeting with Dick Clark Productions’ TV folks himself. No need for that. Truth be told, he hadn’t even met the top brass at TA Network. All his orders went through Bill McNick, and that was that.
That’s how a real boss operates—focus on the people, not the tasks. Keep the core team in line, and the whole operation runs like clockwork.
But there’s always an exception. Ella Fisher, his secretary, flagged an oddball project from Slywood Animation and brought it to his attention.
Slywood Animation was a subsidiary under Dunn Films, with a $30 million investment for a 51% stake. Back when they teamed up, the president, Tosca Musk, had insisted on full operational control, so Dunn Films only had oversight rights.
Honestly, Dunn wasn’t too optimistic about Slywood’s future. He’d only given Tosca a shot because she was Elon Musk’s sister, letting her take a crack at an animated Fantastic Four. But instead of playing it safe, Tosca went rogue. She dropped a jaw-dropping $3 million to snag the film adaptation rights to some obscure cartoon comic called Bone Treasure Adventures!
Dunn had never even heard of it. And according to Ella Fisher’s breakdown, Tosca was likely planning to turn it into a full-blown animated movie. That was straight-up delusional!
In Dunn’s mind, only the three animation giants had any business touching animated films. Tosca Musk—an outsider who’d jumped from Silicon Valley to Hollywood—thought she could tackle this? Based on what?
He was ticked off. That afternoon, he stormed over to Slywood Animation’s studio.
Women, man—they can be so clueless!
The second he arrived, Dunn’s irritation spiked. The studio was in Burbank’s commercial district, where real estate wasn’t cheap. Yet Tosca had rented a lavish half-floor in the biggest office building there. The place was decked out—fancy renovations, walls carved with lifelike cartoon characters. It looked flashier than Dunn Films’ current setup.
Tosca greeted him with a smile, noticing him scoping the place out. “Funds are tight, so we kept the decor simple. Otherwise, it’d be even more impressive,” she said cheerfully.
Dunn’s face darkened, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “The money I invested—was it for you to blow on superficial stuff like this?”
Tosca froze, blinking. “Dunn… boss, you’re not here to chew me out, are you?”
He snorted. “I hear you bought the adaptation rights to some cartoon comic?”
Her face lit up with a dazzling smile. She was stunning—blonde, blue-eyed, tall, curvy, pale skin, long legs. A waste she wasn’t a model. Too bad she couldn’t be trusted. Dreaming of some big movie? Pure fantasy!
“Yeah, Bone Treasure Adventures. It’s a super fun comic—adventure, heart, inspiration, comedy, all rolled into one. After our team’s market research, we think it’s got huge potential for an animated film,” she said confidently.
Dunn laughed, but it was out of frustration. “An animated film? Miss Musk, this is Hollywood, not Silicon Valley! Even in Silicon Valley, the internet boom’s over. Investors’ money isn’t for you to squander like this!”
His words were harsh, and Tosca’s expression soured. “I thought we agreed I’d have full control over Slywood Animation’s operations.”
“True,” Dunn shot back, “but I also recall our deal was for Slywood to make a Fantastic Four animated series—not chase some wild movie dream!” He huffed, brushed past her, and marched toward the president’s office, not bothering with politeness.
Their spat in the lobby drew too many eyes. Tosca, fuming, glared around and snapped, “What are you staring at? Back to work!”
In the president’s office, Dunn plopped into her cushy chair without a second thought, his face growing stormier. “Miss Musk, this office setup’s fancier than mine!”
She met his icy stare head-on, refusing to back down. “Dunn, don’t give me that snarky attitude! My brother sank $20 million into Slywood too. Every cent I’ve spent, I stand by!”
She’d come from Silicon Valley to start up in Hollywood—two totally different worlds with clashing vibes. Silicon Valley swam in cash; founders could splash out on slick offices without blinking. Hollywood? A century-old beast that prized grit over glitz.
Tosca Musk was clearly still stuck in that Silicon Valley mindset.
Chapter 270: Will She Create a Miracle?
“I’ve been to the president’s offices at Universal, Warner, and Fox,” Dunn said, his tone dripping with mockery. “Honestly, not one of them holds a candle to this place.”
Tosca Musk didn’t miss a beat. “What about Pixar? Have you been there?”
Dunn froze for a second.
Tosca smirked faintly. “Animation studios—especially computer animation ones—are a whole new breed. They’re nothing like traditional Hollywood studios. Take Pixar, for example. Would you call them a Hollywood company? I don’t think so.”
She had a point. Pixar didn’t fit the Hollywood mold.
Sure, they made movies, but their philosophy and operations ran on Silicon Valley rules. Even their filmmaking process was a stark contrast to Hollywood’s norms. Hollywood relied on a producer-driven system, while Pixar’s animation was all about the director calling the shots.
That’s why every Pixar film had a killer story—deep, heartwarming, and meticulously crafted. They didn’t skimp on time or money, taking the slow-and-steady approach to perfection. Of course, that came with downsides: huge costs and long production timelines.
Compare that to DreamWorks Animation, the other big player in the game. They stuck to Hollywood’s classic producer-driven model, churning out films on tight schedules. The results were hit-or-miss—quality, content, and box office numbers swung wildly.
This year, Pixar had even moved into a shiny new office building. The whole place looked like something out of a fairy tale—bright colors, clean lines, and a dreamy layout that screamed Steve Jobs’ minimalist Japanese-inspired aesthetic.
DreamWorks Animation, meanwhile? Still clinging to Hollywood tradition, holed up in a cramped little office.
Dunn frowned and waved a hand. “I’m not here to argue with you, and that’s not what I care about anyway.”
“Is it… about animated movies?” Tosca ventured, reading his mood.
“What do you think?” Dunn shot her a cold grin.
Tosca gave a self-deprecating chuckle and shook her head. “Looks like you still don’t trust me.”
Dunn paused, then said evenly, “This is Hollywood, not Silicon Valley. You can’t just charm investors with a slick pitch and a big idea here.”
Tosca settled onto the couch, meeting his gaze with a serious look. “Movies are the only way Sliwood Animation can survive.”
Dunn laughed in disbelief. “Tosca, don’t you think that sounds ridiculous? I handed over the Fantastic Four rights for free to help Sliwood Animation grow. And what have you given me in return?”
“I’m grateful for your generosity,” she said, shaking her head with a straight face, “but after running the numbers, Fantastic Four alone won’t cover Sliwood’s expenses.”
Dunn clenched his jaw. “An animated Fantastic Four series, once it’s made, could easily pull in four or five million a year through sales channels and Dunn Films’ promotional muscle. That’s not even a challenge.”
Tosca bit her lip, hesitating before letting out a small sigh. “Five million a year isn’t enough to keep Sliwood Animation afloat.”
“What?” Dunn sat up straight, eyes wide. “How many people did you hire? The paperwork said 18, right?”
“It’s 18 employees,” Tosca admitted, her expression tinged with bitterness, “but 11 of them are top-tier computer engineers I poached from Silicon Valley.”
Dunn raised an eyebrow. “I’m gonna need an explanation.”
“I can promise you,” Tosca said, “these 11 engineers are the best animation effects experts in the world. Some worked at Blizzard, others at Microsoft, and a few were artists at Sun Microsystems. This team is just as good as Pixar’s—maybe better. And they’ve already delivered results.”
“Go on.”
“We’re developing three pieces of animation software, and we’ll patent them. One idea’s especially cool: animated films get dubbed into different languages worldwide, and mouth movements vary by language. This software adjusts the characters’ lip-sync to match each language perfectly, making the viewing experience way better.”
The irritation on Dunn’s face started to fade, replaced by a flicker of surprise. “You don’t need tech that advanced for just an animated series.”
Tosca nodded. “True, but Sliwood Animation needs a future, doesn’t it? This team’s salaries alone cost five million a year. A TV cartoon can’t sustain us—only animated movies can.”
Dunn sighed, shaking his head. “Tosca, you’re rushing things way too fast!”
“I know,” she said, her face flushing, “but I want to prove myself! So many friends told me leaving Silicon Valley for Hollywood was a mistake. I want to show them I can make it—even as a woman!”
“This isn’t about gender,” Dunn said, waving her off. “And for what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re any less capable than a man.” He drifted into thought.
“Thanks.”
After a long pause, Dunn spoke slowly. “Tosca, ambition’s great, but animated movies—especially computer-animated ones—are a swamp. Even DreamWorks’ animation division treads carefully with that stuff.”
A flash of disdain crossed Tosca’s face. “That’s because DreamWorks doesn’t have enough high-level computer engineers!”
Dunn laughed dryly. “Don’t forget, DreamWorks’ biggest shareholder is Paul Allen—Microsoft’s co-founder!”
“So what?” Tosca shrugged, unfazed. “Mr. Allen might get programmers, but that doesn’t mean Katzenberg does. I’ve got a natural edge here.”
“Making an animated movie with the cash Sliwood’s got right now? That’s nowhere near enough,” Dunn said, eyeing her closely.
“I know,” Tosca replied, pausing before flashing a confident smile. “That’s why I haven’t given up on the Fantastic Four series. Once investors see it, I’m sure they’ll buy into my vision for animated films.”
Dunn smirked. “Tosca, you’ve got guts.”
“The Musk family’s always been this confident.”
Her words caught Dunn off guard.
She was right. Forget Tosca—her brother Elon Musk was the same way. Dreaming of Mars, he started with reusable rockets to cut costs. And he actually pulled it off!
Could Sliwood Animation have that kind of breakout potential too?
Staring at Tosca’s earnest, self-assured smile, Dunn felt a flicker of something—like a vision. Maybe the future of Hollywood animation wouldn’t just belong to Jeffrey Katzenberg, John Lasseter, and Chris Meledandri. Maybe there’d be a fourth name up there—a woman. Tosca Musk.
She had the same tenacity and spirit as her brother.
Dunn took a deep breath and nodded, his tone softening considerably. “Tosca, how about showing me around your animation studio?”
“Of course! But Fantastic Four is still in progress, so you’ll only see some rough clips.”
“That’s plenty. Wait—it’s not a computer-animated series, is it?”
“Yup, it sure is!”
Her answer nearly made Dunn’s jaw drop.
This woman was insane!
Fantastic Four was just a kids’ cartoon for Nickelodeon. In this era, those shows were thrown together quick and cheap—slapstick stories, no need for fancy production. Computer animation was still exclusive to Pixar’s big-screen hits!
But Tosca Musk, this madwoman, had gone all in, deciding to make a computer-animated series. How much was that going to cost?
A traditional hand-drawn cartoon could get by on $2 million. Switching to computer animation? That’s at least ten times more!
Dunn didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
This series wouldn’t just fail to turn a profit—it’d be a miracle if it didn’t tank completely!
And he’d even tossed in the Fantastic Four rights for free!
All he could hope for now was that she’d use this to rack up enough computer animation experience to lay the groundwork for her future films.
At this point, Dunn was out of options.
Or maybe—he was willing to give Tosca Musk one more shot.
Who knows? She might just pull off a miracle, like her brother.
