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.