The change in DC's leadership was known to everyone.
As early as July 31, 2006, Warner had publicly announced that the chairman and CEO of DC Group had resigned from all positions for personal reasons.
But who was the new leader? The world did not know, because Warner had not announced any specific appointment.
Since DC had little public presence, a prolonged vacancy in its leadership drew minimal attention.
The reason the seat remained empty was simple: Isabella did not want the outside world to know she had taken control of DC.
At the moment, she wanted to keep it hidden — because exposure would bring her far more harm than good.
The logic was straightforward.
First, everyone knew she was working on Marvel. So while DC and Marvel were competitors, she was working on Marvel and taking over DC? What would fans on both sides think?
If she made the Marvel films excellent and the DC films poor, DC fans would cry, "Isabella is biased toward Marvel! She took control of DC to destroy it!"
By the same logic, if DC outperformed Marvel at the box office, the Marvel fans who loved her now would turn on her viciously: "Isabella's love for Marvel was fake! She only worked there to help DC kill Marvel!"
These assumptions might seem absurd — but the moment Isabella's control of DC became public, they would feel very real. Because once competition exists, comparison never ends.
And fans, as a demographic, are unpredictable. Consider: when a male singer who had never taken the idol route suddenly announced a relationship in his forties, the world discovered he had an entire contingent of girlfriend-fans. That sort of thing — honestly — was pretty hard to keep a straight face about.
Secondly, now that Isabella had crossed into the capitalist class, she could not easily appear in public in connection with The Dark Knight's themes.
Hiding behind the scenes to promote an anti-capital film was one thing — capital having no conscience, willing to sell the rope that hangs itself. But standing at the front and rallying the crowd? Roosevelt merely grew lonely in his later years. She might not survive to adulthood.
Personally, Isabella felt her invisibility around DC wouldn't harm anyone. Her purpose in holding both Marvel and DC was only to pursue a better future for both. When her goal was sincerely to grow the revenue of both companies, the vested interests on each side would likely overlook her unusual reluctance to seek recognition — but many things are not problem-free simply because we believe them to be.
"So will Isabella's actions affect us?"
After listening to his subordinate's report, Marvel Group chairman Isaac Perlmutter gave a slight nod. "Is there still any possibility of saving the Batman project?"
The subordinate understood what he meant.
"Although Christopher Nolan's Batman Begins had modest box office returns — a $150 million investment yielding a total gross of $373 million — its reputation is strong. It holds an 8.0 on IMDb, which qualifies it as a masterpiece.
"As of this August, Warner's data shows Batman Begins' home video revenue has been exceptional — last year's fourth best-selling title, generating $167 million in its first year on the market in North America alone. Globally, that figure has likely surpassed $300 million.
"This proves Batman Begins was underestimated by the market. As attention continues to build, its sequel should deliver results that pleasantly surprise. Whether it can surpass Spider-Man remains uncertain, but crushing Iron Man should be no problem.
"Iron Man has Isabella's endorsement — but so does Batman. The producers of both films are, in fact, identical.
"With Warner targeting a 2008 release and Isabella also pushing Iron Man for 2008, our projection is that Batman will be the best superhero film of that year and Iron Man will rank second. Given the winner-takes-all dynamic in this industry, Batman's merchandise revenue should exceed Iron Man's by at least 30%."
The subordinate — a middle-aged man in his forties — pressed his lips together. The report was finished.
The unmistakable signal prompted another nod from Isaac Perlmutter. His eyes narrowed slightly, displeasure surfacing on his aged face.
"Hmph."
He said resentfully, "This Isabella Haywood is truly disgusting! She holds Marvel shares while helping Warner operate DC on the other side! No wonder barely anyone has liked her since her debut. A person like this could die ten thousand times and it still wouldn't be unfair."
In the eyes of Marvel chairman Isaac Perlmutter, Isabella's embrace of DC was a direct threat to Marvel's interests — or rather, to his interests.
To explain why requires going back to the beginning.
Isaac Perlmutter was Jewish, born in Jerusalem in 1942. His childhood was defined by artillery fire. Anyone who has studied world history knows the story: the founding of Israel, the Middle East wars, the perpetual conflict. People who grow up amid flames do not embrace peace easily, and once Perlmutter was old enough to carry a gun, he fought — for his country, or more precisely, for his people.
He performed exceptionally during his service, particularly in the Six-Day War of 1967, where he led his team to occupy the West Bank with notable courage. When it ended, that performance earned him the opportunity to immigrate to the United States.
Those who know the details understand. Briefly put: Israel's military equipment was funded by Britain and the United States, and within the American aid group were many Jewish capitalists. When they identified a young soldier of exceptional loyalty and potential, offering him a hand was inevitable.
Isaac Perlmutter arrived in the United States in the 1970s, settling in New York. After a brief adjustment to life in the city, he put his startup capital — provided by his own community — to work. Since the men who taught him to survive came from Wall Street, his first business venture was financial: in just six months, he extracted $120 million from Revco, a well-known North American pharmacy chain at the time.
The method was as follows. He spent $5 million to package a fictitious but attractive clearance-goods company; sold it to Revco, which was expanding its business lines, in exchange for a 12% stake; then went to the press and leaked damaging information, playing the victim while crying foul — driving Revco's stock price down.
At that point, the game was already won. Revco's stock collapsed on the back of Perlmutter's leak. He then launched a leveraged buyout. To fend off his attack, Revco paid $120 million to buy back every share in his hands.
Someone might ask: wasn't that robbery? Why didn't Revco simply call the police?
Isaac Perlmutter was a Jew — born in the Holy City, willing to die for his people. When the reason he obtained a U.S. green card was that his American allies deemed him unwaveringly loyal — was what he did still robbery? Would you accuse a companion of Jewish capitalists capable of influencing geopolitics of committing a crime?
You wouldn't. So his behavior was merely a man of intelligence and talent securing his first fortune in a land of opportunity.
After that first hundred million, Perlmutter began compounding. His second target was Coleco — the game company behind the home console versions of Pac-Man, Donkey Kong, and Galaxian.
He extracted more than $300 million from Coleco, and his methods were bolder than anything he had done before.
He approached Coleco and arranged to purchase goods at 50% of market price. The remaining 50%? He would offset it by helping Coleco with sales. He had no such sales operation under his name, but he used that promise to accumulate $144 million in goods from Coleco within a single year — without paying a cent. The company collapsed under the weight of it.
Once Coleco fell into financial distress, Perlmutter sat down with its creditors. He offered $50 million for all of their senior debt — debt worth approximately $85 million. Since he had manufactured the crisis, the creditors assumed he had lost his mind. Some called him a devil and demanded he repay what he owed. They sued.
Then, within days, those same creditors came to him seeking a settlement. Because when they brought their case to court, they — like Revco before them — saw who was standing behind Isaac Perlmutter. After glimpsing the upper reaches of American power, they reversed course and paid Perlmutter $66 million.
He was a man of principles. Upon receiving their payment, he allowed them to continue living. As for Coleco — it went bankrupt in 1988, though its founder, chairman Arnold Greenberg, lived until March 2025.
Four hundred million in profit from two deals. It made Perlmutter feel like the greatest capital predator of his age. Having become a bloodthirsty shark, he wanted more.
Marvel was in a bankruptcy crisis at the time, with its stock price and assets badly inverted — a natural third target. What he had not anticipated was that Marvel's owner was Ronald Perelman. And before Perlmutter made his move, Carl Icahn had already set his sights on Marvel.
Perlmutter believed he could snatch the prize from a tiger's jaws — that he was the apex predator in the jungle. But the problem was that Carl Icahn's public reputation was the least significant thing about him.
When Perlmutter entered the game and discovered Carl Icahn's true background, he went cold. And when he looked into Ronald Perelman's family history — although the Perelman family's industry was unglamorous, just papermaking, their company held the largest market share in America. The paper used by the country's media and education sectors came from them. Ronald Perelman's grandfather had casually handed his son enough pocket money to purchase the largest steel mill near the Great Lakes, Belmont Iron Works.
The Perelman family had been wealthy since the 19th century. Like the Eisner family, they held vast real-economy assets. Their move into finance only came in the 1970s, when the American economy shifted from industry to speculation. Anyone who resisted that tide was a fool, so they adapted.
A family like that — one careless move on their part could destroy Isaac Perlmutter entirely.
So after assessing both men, Perlmutter sobered up immediately. He ultimately acquired Marvel by calling in his own backers, but those backers warned him clearly: no more predatory deals. Neither Carl Icahn nor Ronald Perelman were forgiving men. If Perlmutter quietly managed Marvel, they might let things rest. If he continued his old habits, they would tear him apart — and even Perlmutter's allies would find it difficult to intervene.
Those allies, incidentally, were Lehman Brothers.
Stripped of his ability to play financial games, Marvel became the last stop of his career. Managing it properly was not optional. So when Isabella proactively embraced Marvel, he was genuinely pleased — her copyrights couldn't be converted into toys on their own, and the manufacturing rights for all of her intellectual property sat in his hands. He held the greatest initiative in the game.
Then Isabella bought Marvel equity.
The shares she purchased were those held by Carl Icahn and Ronald Perelman, but the intervention still made Isaac Perlmutter deeply, profoundly unhappy — he read it as a seizure of power. And in fact, his reading wasn't wrong. During last year's board reshuffle triggered by that equity transaction, Robert Iger — who held Isabella's proxy voting rights — had made a clear push for actual control of Marvel's board. He didn't succeed, but the attempt left Perlmutter unsettled.
And now Isabella was cosying up to Warner and producing DC films?
"Do you think it's possible that Isabella producing DC films is a performance staged for my benefit?"
After a long pause, Perlmutter voiced the thought. "Is she using this to tell me she has other options? That Marvel isn't her only choice?"
The words made his subordinate's brow twitch. This man had followed Isaac Perlmutter for twenty years and knew everything the chairman had done. He understood perfectly what his boss was really asking: Is Isabella so desperate for Marvel that she's dragged Warner into an act to pressure me into conceding?
Privately, the subordinate felt his boss was overthinking it. Isabella and Warner were longstanding allies. Their cooperation had years left to run. What if she was simply helping Warner boost its performance?
But he could not say that. Since losing the freedom to play financial games and being confined to Marvel, Isaac Perlmutter had grown somewhat paranoid. And so —
"Boss, I think that's very possible," the subordinate said, choosing to agree.
The moment he confirmed it, Perlmutter's expression darkened.
"Damned Brit!"
He muttered it like a curse, then said with restless irritation, "So — do you have any ideas? I will not give up control of Marvel. Not even if I die."
The subordinate shook his head decisively.
The denial — quick and absolute — left Perlmutter feeling helpless. In the old days, pulling a gun from his pocket would have been enough to make the other party fold. But now —
Heh.
"M—Fk!"
He slapped the sofa armrest hard.
But just as he was about to sink into regret over the long-ago decision to clash with Carl Icahn and Ronald Perelman, a different thought surfaced: wasn't Isabella also someone he couldn't afford to provoke?
"Wait."
He spoke suddenly.
"Hm?" The subordinate looked up.
"If I recall correctly — at the start of this year, when Content Capital sued YouTube, the lawyers accompanying Isabella to the hearing were all QCs?" Perlmutter fixed his subordinate with a sharp stare.
The sudden question caught the man off guard. But two seconds later he nodded: "That's right — all QCs. Three of them. It was no secret."
"Damn —" Perlmutter exhaled.
He sank back heavily into the sofa.
With Isabella's royal connections now in plain sight, the one holding the gun in this Marvel game was her.
Those who claim the royal family holds no real power have been thoroughly deceived. Consider the judiciary alone: if the royal family were truly powerless, why must British judges obtain QC certification before taking the bench? That is a disguised form of judicial control, nothing more. So-called democracy remains democracy for its masters. The fact that a few private details make it to the press doesn't make it freedom — that's theater for the public.
However — this was America. With Lehman Brothers at his back, Perlmutter had reason to believe he could hold his equity. But simply holding it wasn't enough. He was trapped at Marvel, unable to pursue other deals, while still hungry for more.
His current net worth ran into the billions — but what did billions amount to in America? In this country, if you didn't have $55 trillion, you had no business calling yourself rich.
He took two slow, deep breaths, then released them.
After a long silence, he finally accepted the reality: he was in a passive position.
He was about to wave his hand and dismiss his subordinate when — buzz, buzz, buzz — a burst of urgent vibrations cut through the room.
The subordinate clapped a hand over his pocket and looked at his boss with an apologetic expression.
Perlmutter curled his lip and waved for him to answer.
After a round of brief exchanges — "Hello — yes — I see —" — the subordinate hung up and turned to his boss with an odd look.
"Boss, someone is asking for you."
"Who?" Perlmutter asked automatically.
"Phil Spencer."
"Who?" The name meant nothing to him.
"Phil Spencer — the head of Microsoft's Xbox and gaming division in North America."