"All right, now tell me how Isabella's side replied."
"Boss, Kevin Feige just called. He says his boss — Isabella — isn't satisfied with Xbox's offer. She thinks the price is too low, and that cooperating with Xbox wouldn't earn them much at all."
"That's obvious. The offer we sent had no sincerity behind it whatsoever. So why were you so anxious a moment ago? This hasn't gone beyond what we expected, has it?"
"Boss, here's the thing — while conveying her dissatisfaction, Feige also said Isabella feels Marvel doesn't need to rush into video games. Partly because there are plenty of game companies in the world and Marvel isn't obligated to work with Xbox specifically, but also because she has two movies releasing this year —"
"What do you mean? Explain."
"You remember Transformers and Beaver Animation, Boss? Both release this year. Transformers has already partnered with TT Games for its adaptation. Beaver Animation will definitely get a game adaptation too. Since both films will have games attached, and Isabella herself has no interest in entering the video game industry, she suggested we use their transaction prices as a benchmark — to figure out what Marvel's game adaptation rights are actually worth."
"I see what she's getting at. When do these two films come out?"
"Transformers releases July 3rd. Beaver Animation follows on the 27th, same month."
March 19, 2007, was a Monday.
Under normal circumstances, nothing significant happened at Marvel on a Monday.
So when Isaac Perlmutter, Marvel's current chairman, arrived at the office that morning, he leaned back leisurely and called a friend to chat about yesterday's hunting trip.
He was mid-story, savoring the thrill of the previous day's catch, when someone knocked at his door. He snapped "come in" with visible irritation — and the sight of his assistant's hurried entrance only made him more annoyed.
There was no helping it. Every piece of unexpected trouble lately seemed to trace back to Isabella, a woman he despised.
But because killing Isabella mattered to him enormously, Perlmutter swallowed his irritation, hung up on his friend, and listened to the report.
After absorbing Isabella's position and reviewing the intelligence his assistant handed over — the Transformers game's promotional art, the release schedules for both Transformers and Beaver Animation — his eyes narrowed.
"What do you make of her reply?"
He set the materials down and looked up at his assistant.
"That's... a hard question to answer, Boss."
The assistant looked uneasy.
"Why?" Perlmutter raised an eyebrow. "Just say it. I'm not going to bite your head off for speaking your mind."
"All right, then —" Taking the cue, the assistant dropped the hedging. "Personally, I think her reply could carry two possible meanings."
"The first is that she hasn't noticed our arrangement with Microsoft — her response is simply telling us the Xbox offer is unreasonable, full stop."
"The second is that she has noticed, and everything she's said is just buying time to figure out her next move."
"And honestly, I lean toward the second."
Perlmutter nodded at that.
Genuinely dim-witted men, once thrown into a real fight, become nothing more than bodies to fill the line. The only person who ever pulled off legendary feats on a battlefield with a child's intellect was Forrest Gump — and only on a movie screen.
Isaac Perlmutter's intelligence was nothing close to that. If anything, it ran well above average — the man had once led a crew of brothers through an actual takeover of the West Bank. So when he read Isabella's reply, instinct lit a warning light in his head before his conscious mind caught up. Something here didn't smell right. There was a trap somewhere in front of him.
The reasoning was straightforward: Isabella and Microsoft were currently adversaries.
Had the Xbox invitation arrived before Apple's Macworld keynote, Isabella might have had a few private doubts, but she likely wouldn't have flagged anything as outright wrong. The friction between her and Microsoft hadn't yet gone public at that point, and two parties discussing cooperation despite minor tension is unremarkable in business.
But the invitation came after the keynote — by which point Isabella's suspicion would almost certainly outweigh any instinct to take the offer at face value. Her guard would be up. The rivalry between her and Microsoft was no longer a secret.
With her ally Steve Jobs having just battered several of Microsoft's product lines into the ground publicly, no reasonably informed observer would expect Microsoft to suddenly extend an olive branch to Isabella.
That, in fact, was the real reason Steve Ballmer — upon learning that Perlmutter was willing to cooperate with Microsoft — had quietly concluded the timing wasn't right after all.
But neither man — not Ballmer, not Perlmutter — seemed bothered by this.
Ballmer trusted Microsoft's position. Perlmutter trusted Lehman's backing.
So they moved forward with an almost reckless openness.
Yet just as both expected Isabella to angrily reject the offer outright—
She came back with a revised proposal instead.
The moment Perlmutter saw her reply, his instinct told him she was stalling.
But why would she need to stall?
"Mr. Ballmer — do you think Isabella's looking for outside help?"
"Phil, what makes you say that?"
"Because the substance of her reply doesn't match how long she took to send it."
"Interesting. Go on."
"If Isabella had genuinely been eager about our offer, she'd have replied immediately — what she sent back is information anyone could've gathered with a single phone call. But she took a full week. My guess is she spent that time investigating us — and possibly traced Marvel's backing straight to Isaac Perlmutter's sponsor. Once you're staring down Lehman directly, looking for outside help is the obvious move, isn't it?"
"Phil — that's a reasonable theory. But so what?"
The afternoon of March 19, 2007.
Microsoft headquarters.
Steve Ballmer leaned back in his chair, smiling, fingers tapping idly against the desk.
"I follow you. You're saying Isabella isn't operating alone right now — that she might be drawing on the British royal family's influence?"
"Appreciate the heads-up, but this is America, not the Commonwealth. If the royal family had real reach into Wall Street, Isabella wouldn't have needed to cut her own deal with Steven Spielberg and the others last year."
Since Isaac Perlmutter hadn't worked out Isabella's true intentions, he forwarded her reply to Microsoft as a matter of course — though even if he had understood it, protocol would have required forwarding it regardless. And once Steve Ballmer heard both Phil Spencer's report and his reservations—
A satisfied smile spread across his face.
Microsoft had laid its cards on the table — but hadn't Isabella done the same?
Last year, during the Content Capital vs YouTube trial, she'd walked in flanked by three Queen's Counsel. This year, at the British Academy Awards, the whole country had watched her embrace the eldest princess on camera.
Microsoft had dared to show its hand precisely because Isabella had already shown hers.
In Ballmer's eyes, the British royal family commanded real and considerable influence — plenty capable of stirring things up across North America when it chose to. But on Wall Street specifically, their reach was noticeably thinner.
They hadn't managed to hand Isabella an outright win in the Content Capital vs YouTube case. So once Lehman formally stepped in behind Isaac Perlmutter, any deal Isabella wanted would have to be struck with North American capital — and North American capital alone.
So—
"Mr. Ballmer, if that's the case, I have no objection."
"Good. Reply to Isaac and tell him to accept Isabella's proposal."
Both Marvel and Microsoft suspected Isabella was stalling — but her explanation was reasonable enough that pushing back risked real fallout. If they came after her over it, Marvel's other shareholders would side with her without hesitation, and even Lehman would struggle to back Isaac Perlmutter without the moral high ground. Granting her request was the only sensible move.
Steve Ballmer's confidence also played a part. He was certain that as long as things unfolded step by step, Isabella would eventually take a hit — and when it came to tarnishing her reputation, his confidence ran high.
Marvel's reply left Isabella satisfied.
She didn't know what Microsoft and Marvel were actually waiting for.
She knew exactly what she was waiting for: the subprime mortgage crisis.
She'd also confirmed something else — the old guard in London, under the Union Jack, genuinely intended to plant their flag back in New York.
With Microsoft and Marvel accepting her proposed truce, an uneasy peace settled over the situation.
Time moved on, and the world filled itself with new developments.
The first event tied to Isabella came on March 30, 2007, when Disney released its seventy-fourth original animated feature: Meet the Robinsons.
Although it was the most warmly received Disney animated project since Lilo & Stitch — praised widely by critics and audiences alike — its box office performance was dismal. On a $150 million budget, it earned just $25 million in its opening weekend. It didn't shock the world; it didn't even top the North American weekend box office.
That result made life difficult inside the Disney family. Dick Cook, Disney Animation's chairman and the final nail Roy E. Disney's faction had managed to plant within the company, grew visibly restless.
If their situation needed summarizing—
"Isa, the rest is up to you now."
"As long as The God of Cookery performs decently, Roy E. Disney can start saying his goodbyes to the company."
April 2, 2007.
Isabella received a call from Robert Iger — Disney's king in all but name.
The two had clashed before. During last year's Content Capital vs YouTube case, Iger had hoped she'd quietly concede defeat; she hadn't. But after he later helped her dismantle News Corporation, the relationship had settled back into something close to normal — which was why his tone now carried genuine anticipation.
The "God of Cookery" he meant was Beaver Animation, due out soon.
"Bob, I hope The God of Cookery performs well too — honestly, I'd love nothing more than for it to clear a billion at the box office. But you probably understand that film's final shape better than I do at this point. I've been swamped these past few years and haven't had the bandwidth to follow its production closely."
"Ha — fair enough. I probably do know it better than you right now, since I followed it through the whole process. And honestly, I don't know how far it'll go at the box office either, but I genuinely like it."
"Coming from you, that's reassuring. I trust your judgment."
"Thanks. So — should we ramp up the marketing?"
"Yes. And don't forget — get every trailer up on YouTube."
"Understood, understood. Wouldn't dream of forgetting."
After realizing their concept overlapped with Isabella's project, Pixar shelved Ratatouille entirely — which meant they'd have no release to the public this year. With The God of Cookery now Disney's sole animated offering of the year, Robert Iger wanted nothing more than to see it explode and eclipse Disney's own brand entirely.
The reasoning behind that had already been covered: the title "king in all but name" had never satisfied Iger's actual ambitions. Having pushed Michael Eisner out, what he truly wanted was the crown itself — and since his ascent benefited Isabella too, helping him along was an easy call.
While Iger threw himself into promoting The God of Cookery, another development unfolded that same day, April 2, 2007: the bankruptcy filing of America's New Century Financial Corporation.
New Century was an investment trust specializing in issuing and securitizing subprime loans. As of January 1, 2007, it had become the largest independent subprime lender in the United States, holding over $50 billion in subprime loans.
That number might not sound alarming on its own. But what if the company's actual assets totaled less than $50 million?
At a thousand-to-one leverage ratio, that kind of exposure can devastate anything it touches.
So when New Century filed for bankruptcy protection, the financial world genuinely panicked.
By any reasonable logic, this should have been the spark that set off the broader subprime crisis — the first domino, with countless other subprime lenders expected to follow into bankruptcy in short order.
But that wasn't quite what happened.
The expected cascade never materialized — not just because the media downplayed the story while financial institutions scrambled to protect themselves, but because, on April 16, 2007, a mass shooting at Virginia Tech shocked the nation. A gunman, armed with a Glock and a Walther, killed seventeen students and faculty on campus; six more died in the chaos of the evacuation.
The tragedy instantly seized the country's attention — and in doing so, handed the financial sector a window to quietly seek help. Human attention is finite. With the public's eyes fixed on Virginia Tech, no one was watching the maneuvering happening in the capital markets. And as long as ordinary depositors didn't panic, that maneuvering could continue undisturbed.
What financial institutions feared most was mass selling and bank runs. In a system built on leverage pushed to its limits, confidence mattered more than actual capital.
So, through a combination of interbank borrowing, convertible bonds, debt extensions, and other quiet fixes, the Dow Jones Industrial Average climbed to an unprecedented 13,000 points by April 25, 2007.
Everyone understood the underlying problem hadn't gone away — just been buried, ready to resurface eventually. But in the moment, no one seemed to care. The music kept playing. The dancing continued.
Capitalist society, in the end, runs on letting someone else take the fall. As long as the bomb went off in someone else's hands, the survivors could enjoy the calm.
While the shooting's aftermath dominated headlines and financial institutions worked quietly behind the scenes, promotion for The God of Cookery and Transformers ramped up. Both launched official YouTube channels and released a steady stream of trailers.
On paper, the two films looked set to dominate public attention for months — Disney and Viacom both owned broadcast networks (ABC and CBS, respectively), and the combination of traditional media reach with internet presence gave them enormous visibility.
But reality told a different story.
Neither The God of Cookery nor Transformers ended up unifying public attention, because May 2007 brought three major franchise sequels crashing into theaters at once: Spider-Man 3, Shrek the Third, and Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End.
Three threequels, released in close succession — no one quite understood why Sony, Disney, and Paramount had all chosen to crowd into the same window and fight it out. But everyone agreed that, despite the overlap, all three films had a real shot at crossing a billion dollars. And if all three actually pulled it off—
"This would be a miracle in film history."
"This year's global box office champion, runner-up, and third place might all come out of this one collision."
On May 4, 2007, the host of iTV Entertainment News practically shouted with excitement discussing the box-office prospects of the three films.
"Unfortunately, that's just not going to happen."
At noon that same day, Isabella — eating lunch on set while half-listening to the broadcast — laughed.
"This year's box office crown is already ours."
"Those three can fight it out for third, fourth, and fifth."
"What?"
Her remark made Catherine and Margot, seated at the same table, look up in surprise.
Her mother, meanwhile, had gone out again to enjoy herself. Isabella no longer needed constant supervision, and Vivian — who'd always had a taste for the finer things — had grown comfortable spending her daughter's money, especially now that there was simply too much of it to spend through ordinary means. These days her social circle was largely drawn from people she'd met through Rowling: wives and daughters of one prominent family or another.
Catherine and Margot's surprised looks needled Isabella slightly.
She pursed her lips. "What's with those faces? Have you forgotten Order of the Phoenix Part One releases at the end of this year? It's not going to have any trouble taking the annual crown. As for runner-up — that's The God of Cookery."
Her confidence made Catherine and Margot exchange a glance. Both shook their heads, somewhere between laughing and despairing.
"You didn't sleep well last night, did you?" Catherine said. "It's barely noon and you're already dreaming."