[Chapter 231: A Top Director]
In the training room, Daniel sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed as he centered himself, meditating on the internal state of his body.
The phone screen flickered, projecting Succubus Chris's image onto the floor. She pushed up the gold-rimmed glasses that had appeared on the bridge of her nose, her expression turning professional.
"Master, there are new developments from 20th Century Fox."
Daniel opened his eyes calmly. "Go on."
Chris swiped through several streams of data on the screen. "The Devil Wears Prada has officially passed internal review and has been greenlit. The current production budget is set at around $35 million."
Daniel shifted into a more comfortable position against the wall. "Is Fox planning to fully finance it?"
"No," Chris shook her head. "According to Hollywood standards, for a workplace drama like this that's not part of a franchise or major IP, the risk assessment is 'medium-high.' Fox's finance department suggests seeking external funding to share the production costs and marketing pressure."
Daniel sneered. "Those old foxes -- they shut the doors when there's big money to be made. But the moment they face a project they're unsure about, they start talking about 'win-win cooperation.'"
Chris nodded. "Exactly. No one can guarantee that a movie about fashion and office politics will be as profitable as a superhero flick. Most studios are very cautious when dealing with a script that hasn't been market-tested."
Daniel stood and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing out at the shimmering swimming pool. He knew full well this movie would gross over $320 million worldwide. A $35 million investment for nearly a tenfold return -- that wasn't sharing risk; it was Fox laying out a prime cut on the table.
"Contact them. My film company is very interested in this project."
Without looking back, he added, "We want in on the investment; the bigger the share, the better."
Chris's fingers moved rapidly across the screen. "Master, under what name? Although we hold shares in Marvel, we don't have a track record in traditional production circles yet."
"Just use 'Cash,'" Daniel said. He turned, eyes sharp. "Let Fox's negotiation team know that we don't want any production control. We only want a share of the profits and the right to suggest casting choices. Also, our funds can be transferred immediately."
Chris paused, then looked up. "Suggestion rights? Are you thinking of putting Miss Hathaway in?"
Daniel sat back in his chair, tapping his finger lightly on the table. "This role suits her, both temperamentally and for her upcoming career transition."
"Understood. I'll send an email to the Fox vice president right away."
Chris's figure flickered and disappeared from the screen.
...
That afternoon, at a private club in Beverly Hills, Daniel met with the Fox executive overseeing the project -- a balding man named Kevin.
Kevin sized up the young Daniel with a businessman's scrutinizing gaze.
"Mr. Cross, I'm surprised. I hear you recently put a lot of money into Marvel, and now you want to step into the fashion genre?"
Daniel took a sip of black tea. "Marvel is the future, but The Devil Wears Prada is the business of the present. I think highly of this script; it has potential to capture the wallets of career women worldwide."
Kevin smiled, setting down his cigar. "Since you don't want control and are willing to provide cash, Fox has no reason to refuse. After all, sharing the risk was our original plan."
Daniel said, "I want a 40% investment share."
Kevin's smile stiffened slightly. "That's too much. Right now, we intend to release only 15 to 20 percent."
Daniel set down his teacup and leaned forward, tone firm. "30%. In exchange, I want the director to consider Anne Hathaway for the lead."
Kevin rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Anne Hathaway? Hitch made her popular. The director was originally considering Claire Danes or Natalie Portman, but Anne's commercial appeal is higher right now."
Daniel said nothing. He watched him carefully.
Kevin was silent for half a minute, then extended his hand. "Deal. I'll communicate with the director. As long as Anne's audition isn't a disaster, the part is hers."
...
Returning to the villa, Succubus Chris emerged from the shadows holding a phone.
"Master, it's done. Fox has already sent Molly an audition invitation."
Daniel sat on the sofa, eyes closed, resting. "Does Anne know?"
"She just heard of this; I think she's planning to call you right now."
No sooner had she finished than Daniel's phone vibrated sharply.
He answered, and Anne Hathaway's excited voice blazed through the speaker. "Daniel! Molly told me you set up a project for me to co-star with Meryl Streep?"
Daniel replied flatly, "Listen, Anne. I want you for this role. You don't need to undress or play ugly. You just need to be yourself -- a transformation from a small-town girl to a queen."
Anne's voice faltered. "What do you mean by 'be yourself'?"
Daniel laughed. "Haha, just a slip of the tongue."
Anne huffed, "Tonight, I'm coming over to settle the score with you."
Daniel said simply, "As you wish."
---
The afternoon sun poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Cross Hall, casting bright spots on the tiled floor.
Daniel sat behind the rosewood tea tray, leisurely washing the tea set. Francia sat off in the corner, head down, absorbed in studying an acting textbook.
She hadn't had many scenes in Hancock and was done filming, so she'd come straight back to keep an eye on the shop.
Just then, a car pulled up to the door.
A middle-aged man in a dark gray suit stepped out. His hair was slightly messy, his deep-set eyes bloodshot from long-term sleep deprivation. His whole demeanor exuded anxiety, as though crushed under an unbearable weight.
Daniel looked up and glanced at him. Even without using his Spiritual Perception Technique, he could feel a heavy, almost solidified cold energy emanating from the man.
The man sized Daniel up, his voice carrying a mixture of hesitation and a last hope. "Excuse me, are you Mr. Cross?"
"I am." Daniel gestured toward the chair opposite him. "Please, have a seat."
The man bowed politely, nervously clutching the hem of his suit as he sat down.
Daniel poured a small cup of tea and pushed it forward. "How should I address you?"
Taking a deep breath, the man seemed to battle the fear in his chest. "My name is Christopher Nolan. I'm a director."
Daniel's expression remained calm.
In fact, the moment Nolan walked in, Daniel had recognized him.
After all, Nolan was a world-renowned director in the future.
Last month, Batman Begins -- the first part of Nolan's Batman trilogy -- had just been released. It hadn't even left theaters yet.
At this point, Nolan was still an emerging director just starting to earn a name for himself, far from the heights he would later reach.
Batman Begins had grossed just over $300 million worldwide -- $352 million eventually -- but compared to its cost, it wasn't considered a massive success.
It wouldn't be until the second installment, The Dark Knight, that Nolan would break the billion-dollar mark and fully gain mainstream recognition.
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