The next few days, Raphael kept his routine — film, wrap, eat with Paul and the rest of the cast like nothing had changed.
Saturday night, he boarded the flight back to Los Angeles.
By the time the plane landed, it was already ten p.m.
Raphael walked out of the gate and spotted Ari waiting at the exit, holding up a sign that read "Raphael Lee" in big letters.
"Why'd you come?" Raphael walked over.
Ari lowered the sign and gave him a once-over.
"What's up with you? You look rough."
"Nothing. Just didn't sleep well."
Ari gave him a suspicious look but didn't push.
"Come on, I'll drive you home. Screen test at Disney Studios on Monday, so rest up tomorrow."
Raphael nodded and followed him out.
When he got back to Malibu, Jessica was already asleep. Raphael slipped quietly into the bedroom and lay down beside her.
She rolled over, half-asleep, mumbled "You're back?" and drifted off again.
Raphael stared at the ceiling for a long time before finally closing his eyes.
---
Sunday morning, Raphael pushed open the door to Philip's office.
The space was modest but spotless.
A whiteboard on the wall was covered in numbers and dates.
Philip sat at his computer, coffee in hand, frowning at the screen.
"You're here?" He didn't look up. "Sit."
Raphael dropped onto the sofa.
"What's this about?"
Philip turned around. His expression was strange — half serious, half barely-contained excitement.
"I finished calculating your income from last year to now."
He picked up a document and slid it across the desk.
"Forty-seven point eight million."
Raphael glanced at the paper.
"Yeah, sounds right."
Philip nodded and picked up another sheet.
"And this is what you owe in taxes."
Raphael looked at the number and frowned.
"Twenty-one point eight four million? Forty-five point seven percent?"
Philip spread his hands.
"California, bro. Federal 38.6%, state 9.3%. Adds up. You're a resident — no escaping it."
Raphael stared at the paper, mouth twitching.
Twenty-one million plus.
He thought about all the days he'd spent busting his ass on set.
Half of it — gone.
"You're joking, right?" His voice came out a little weak.
Philip looked at him and suddenly grinned.
"Hurts, doesn't it?"
"No shit!"
"Good. It's supposed to."
Philip stood up, walked over, snatched the paper back, crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it into the trash.
Raphael blinked.
"What are you doing?"
Philip dusted off his hands, picked up a different document, and handed it to him.
"This is the one you need to see."
Raphael took it and flipped to the first page.
Three seconds later he looked up.
"What the—"
"Keep reading."
Raphael turned the page.
Five minutes later he set the document down and stared at Philip.
"You sure about this?"
Philip nodded.
"Dead sure."
Raphael looked back at the numbers and stayed quiet for a few seconds.
Then he suddenly laughed.
"You fucking…"
"Don't swear at me."
Philip grinned. "First let me explain."
He walked back to his computer, pulled up a spreadsheet, and projected it onto the wall.
"First number — your thirty million salary."
He pointed at the screen.
"The money for Fast 2 & 3. Universal was unusually generous and paid the full amount upfront. But it didn't go into your personal account. It went into the company I just set up for you — Raphael Lee Productions."
Raphael raised an eyebrow.
"And then?"
"Then—" Philip paused, a sly smile tugging at his lips. "I used the company to move twenty million out in early February and bought Amazon with all of it."
Raphael froze.
"Early February?"
"Yeah. Right before Fast 2 started shooting. Share price was seventy-one cents. Twenty million bought over twenty-eight million shares. As of the end of April, those shares are worth twenty-three point three eight million."
He tapped the screen.
"That money is still sitting in the company account. It hasn't touched your personal books yet. So it doesn't count as your personal income this year."
Raphael quickly did the math in his head.
"How much did that save?"
Philip typed a few keys.
"Company operating costs, team salaries, entertainment expenses — all that adds up to about nine point five six million in deductible expenses. At your tax rate, that saves four point four two million."
Raphael nodded.
"Second number — your fifteen million in stock."
Philip switched to another chart.
"The Amazon shares you bought last September for fifteen million. As of the end of April, they're worth forty-one point five million. I donated them."
Raphael's head snapped up.
"Donated?"
"Donated."
Philip continued without blinking. "Donated to your own charity — the Raphael Lee Foundation. Registered last week."
Raphael opened his mouth, then closed it again.
Philip watched him, expression turning complicated.
"Raphael, there's something I need to tell you."
Raphael looked at him.
"What?"
Philip took a deep breath.
"Last September, when you bought those fifteen million dollars of Amazon stock — you didn't tell me."
Raphael paused, remembering.
Back then he had just returned from the Star Wars set, still carrying memories from the dream world. He opened an account and dumped the money in without telling anyone.
"Yeah."
Philip kept going.
"When I found out, I wanted to punch you. Fifteen million dollars, and you didn't even ask me? You just dumped it all into one stock? Were you insane?"
Raphael stayed quiet.
Philip paused.
"We had a fight that day. You remember?"
Raphael nodded.
Philip had called, voice loud enough to blow the roof off.
"At the time, I thought you'd lost your mind."
Philip's voice softened.
"But these past few months, watching Amazon's stock price—"
He pointed at the chart.
"0.30, 0.35, 0.40, 0.50, 0.60, 0.70, 0.83."
He counted them off one by one.
"I watched that line climb — day after day, month after month — until today."
He turned and looked Raphael straight in the eye.
"Then I realized the crazy one was me."
Raphael stared at him.
Philip smiled, a helpless, bitter smile.
"How the hell did you know? How did you know that broken company would skyrocket like this? I didn't know. Those Wall Street analysts didn't know. But you knew."
He stood up, walked to the window, and turned his back to Raphael.
"So when the thirty million for Fast 2 & 3 hit the account, I asked myself one question — do I do this my way, or your way?"
He turned around.
"I chose your way."
Raphael looked at him.
"You bought Amazon."
"I bought Amazon."
Philip nodded. "Twenty million. All of it. Early February."
He walked back to the computer and pulled up the price chart again.
"I told myself — if it drops, I'll take the hit. Worst case, you yell at me. If it goes up—"
He smiled.
"It went up."
Raphael looked at the number.
Twenty-three point three eight million.
Two months. Three point three eight million in gains.
"So now you're apologizing?"
Philip shrugged.
"Sort of. And also letting you know — I won't try to stop you from doing shit like this anymore."
Raphael stared at him for a few seconds, then laughed.
"Fine. Next time, just give me a heads-up."
Philip nodded.
"By the way, how much is left in your personal account?"
Raphael thought for a second.
"About two point three million. The three hundred grand from Fast 1, the five hundred grand from Dior, the two million from The Matrix — it's all there. I don't spend much."
Philip hummed.
"That's enough for your pocket money. From now on, the big money goes through the company and the foundation."
Raphael nodded and stood up to leave.
"Wait."
Philip stopped him. "What about the twenty million in stock? When do you want to deal with it?"
Raphael thought for a moment.
"Leave it in the company account for now. Taxes are already handled for this year."
Philip grinned.
"That's exactly what I was thinking."
---
Monday morning at nine o'clock, Raphael arrived at Disney Studios.
Today he kept it simple — dark gray shirt, black pants, hair neatly styled but nothing flashy.
No forced look. Just his natural self.
Ready for the screen test.