Fox's act of waving the white flag made Warner and Disney sound the retreat.
Well, Barry Meyer and Robert Iger were always after power, after all.
If they could have swallowed Fox and News Corp whole without losing anything, they absolutely would have done it. But Rupert Murdoch was not the kind to surrender quietly. Forcing him into a corner wasn't a smart idea—for either of them.
With Warner and Disney pulling back, NBC and CBS also stopped hounding Fox.
Or rather, by that point, they had already gotten everything they wanted. Once Fox announced American Idol was suspended indefinitely, NBC and CBS suddenly felt a lot less pressure in the variety show arena.
Even if they still had to deal with The Voice, the brutal juggernaut it was, the days of Coca-Cola and Pepsi teaming up to stage their red-vs-blue marketing wars were over.
As long as the two networks could make their variety shows moderately successful, the rewards would be plentiful.
Because the real point of variety shows was traffic—they could carry multiple TV dramas on their backs.
Of course, the dramas still had to not suck.
When capital pulls back, the spectacle ends. Nobody's fanning the flames anymore.
And when the spectacle ends, it's time to settle accounts.
For the African Americans and equal-rights activists who had shouted all the way through—it was a satisfying outcome.
They had united and made capital bow its head. What a glorious achievement.
For the North American peanut gallery, the week-long drama had been pure gold.
Fox getting absolutely wrecked by a tidal wave of public outrage?
That was insane—in the best way.
To the racists, though, the losses were acceptable.
After all, Fox had broken the law first, and they got caught red-handed. That was unfixable.
And the disappearance of Chris Columbus made them downright gleeful.
In their eyes, his refusal to hire a Black director was a "smart move."
No way would they want "a bunch of illiterate people" directing films.
Artists, they said, had to be cultured.
The uncultured only make garbage.
But when the catastrophic downfall of Fox appeared before the other members of the anti-Isabella alliance...
"Rupert's taken a heavy hit this time."
New York.
In a Long Island mansion, Ted Turner and Steve Case were having a small get-together.
They knew everything that had gone down.
In fact, when they heard Murdoch had secretly drawn his knife against Harry Potter, they'd quietly rooted for him. They even gave him a little push. But he still failed spectacularly.
They found that… regrettable.
And judging by the current situation...
"Rupert won't recover anytime soon."
Steve Case lifted his glass from the coffee table and took a sip. The sweetness made him sigh—it was fruit wine.
"Tom Rothman was a key figure at Fox. He founded the Fox Searchlight label, after all. With him gone, Fox Pictures is bound to go through a painful adjustment period."
"How long that pain lasts..."
"Well, that depends on how far ahead Rothman planned before he left. If he laid out a three-to-five-year strategy, fine. But if there's nothing past next year…"
"Then Fox Pictures is in danger."
"No, no, no—Fox Pictures is already in danger," Ted Turner cut in, shaking his head. "X-Men is gone, and without a major franchise, Fox's film division is crippled. Once X-Men got tangled up with racial issues, their only option was a reboot—but they can't do that for years. And if the industry's next trend is comic adaptations, Rupert's going to cough up blood."
Ted leaned forward, raised his glass to Steve Case, then downed his whiskey in one gulp.
The sharp burn hit his head like a punch, making him squint.
After a few seconds, he regained control of his face and smirked. "And there's American Idol. With it gone, Fox's ratings will drop again."
"They'll end up at the bottom of the Big Four networks."
"But I don't think that's what's giving Rupert the biggest headache."
"What's killing him," Ted said, "is that American Idol's suspension counts as a commercial breach of contract. He has to pay a huge sum to all the sponsors—two or three hundred million, at least. And that payout will push Fox's stock price even lower. Everything Idol once gained for Fox—they'll now lose, and then some. After that, the shareholders will riot."
Steve Case went quiet.
Everything Ted had said was a nightmare.
No company survives a shareholder revolt unscathed.
Once those rabid dogs sink their teeth in… the chairman might survive, but not without losing a few layers of skin.
Thinking about how his old ally was about to be buried in endless corporate drama made Case oddly melancholic.
Not sympathy, of course.
People with consciences don't last long in capitalism.
It was just that… they'd lost an ally.
Brutal, but true.
"So… do we still go for revenge?"
Case emptied his glass and looked at Ted.
"Are you scared?" Ted chuckled, picking up the whiskey bottle. He waved it slightly, and when Case nodded, poured him another drink.
The golden liquor caught Case's eyes for a moment before he shook his head. "No. Just… confused. Rupert's plan was flawless—his timing, his subtlety, everything. But even so, he still lost. Completely. Which makes me think... maybe Isabella really has some kind of magic, or insane luck."
Anyone with half a brain could see it: the person who'd just given Warner and Disney their biggest win—their biggest boost—was Isabella.
So if you wanted to destroy Barry Meyer or Robert Iger, you went after Isabella.
They'd done it before. Murdoch had done it this time.
And both times, she somehow came out stronger. The first smear campaign? It only made The Voice a monster hit.
This time? The attack never even reached her—Murdoch imploded first.
It was like Ron Weasley casting a spell in Chamber of Secrets and it backfiring right into his face.
Cursed as hell.
Ted Turner started laughing, toying with the bottle. "Steve, I've been thinking."
"What thought?"
Ted blew across the bottle's neck and said, "If we can't hit Isabella head-on, maybe we can split her from Barry Meyer."
Case frowned. "What do you mean?"
Ted raised a brow. "I've heard a Wall Street big shot's got his eyes on Warner."
"And?"
"That big shot also happens to own Marvel."
"Ronald Perelman?" Case guessed immediately, then shook his head. "No—Ronald couldn't afford Time Warner. You mean Carl Icahn?"
"Yeah. Carl Icahn."
Ted smiled. "I don't know exactly why he's targeting Time Warner, but knowing him, he probably wants to split Time Warner and AOL apart. If you're okay with that, we can work with him, kick Steve Ross's people out, and the company's ours."
Case narrowed his eyes.
Technically, AOL and Time Warner were still one group. But now that the company name had dropped "AOL," the brand was clearly fading. Separation was inevitable.
Bringing in Icahn would just push that downhill car a little faster.
Case didn't care. He only wanted revenge. To watch the people who'd ruined him burn.
Still, he frowned. "Ted, with respect, I don't get your angle. Icahn never sticks around. He flips companies for profit. Even if we pull this off, once he cashes out, Ross's family could crawl back in."
"Exactly why," Ted said with a grin, "I said we should split Isabella and Barry Meyer. We could never take Meyer down before because his performance looked too good. But if we steal the results that make him look good? Then what?"
"Before, we couldn't take Isabella from him. Now, we can."
"Because Warner has DC—but Isabella wants to develop Marvel."
"Yeah, you heard me right. Iron Man is Isabella's idea."
"Chris Columbus was brought in just to shut people up."
Ted smirked.
Case blinked, then slowly began to smile too.
"Oooh, Ted… I think I see your point."
"You're saying Isabella doesn't care much for DC. Warner can't own DC outright because of antitrust law. But if we can get close to Marvel, we've got a real shot at pulling her over."
"If that happens, and we control Time Warner, no one—not even the Ross family—can push us out again."
"Because working with Isabella wouldn't cost her anything. Her bond with Barry Meyer is Harry Potter. And Harry Potter belongs to Warner. No matter who runs Warner, the franchise stays. So… who she partners with doesn't really matter."
"Right?"
Steve Case winked at Ted Turner.
Snap!
Ted Turner snapped his fingers. "What?"
"Go contact Carl Icahn."
"Huh?"
"If he's willing to state his terms and trade Marvel for something with us, then… I think it's worth a try."
"Okay, I'll get in touch."
Ted Turner cheerfully passed him a bottle.
Steve Case didn't hesitate — he clinked bottles with him.
Clink!
They both laughed.
Turner and Case had accepted reality. They no longer wanted to go after Isabella. No one wanted to do something that hurt themselves ten times worse than the enemy. As for the rest of their little anti-Isabella alliance…
"Don't go after them anymore. Forget about revenge, okay?"
Canada.
In a Montreal estate, old Edgar Bronfman watched Fox's live broadcast with a complicated expression.
The decision to cede territory and pay compensation made him sigh heavily.
He turned his head toward his youngest son sitting nearby.
"I know you hate them. You hate Barry Meyer and Robert Iger — maybe even Isabella Haywood. But they're not people you can afford to provoke."
"Barry and Bob clawed their way up from the bottom of society. You can't imagine the kind of methods they use. Their ruthlessness goes far beyond killing a few people. And Isabella… do you really think that girl's normal?"
"Even if God himself kissed her, that still wouldn't explain her absurd luck!"
"So, stop making enemies for this family, alright? And stop giving your mother headaches too, will you?"
The old man's words made young Bronfman press his lips tight.
Yes — his backing wasn't just his father. His mother was too.
Her name was Ann Loeb, from both the Loeb and Lehman families.
The Loebs once controlled the world's largest metal company, American Metal. After their phase of raw accumulation, like the Eisners, they burrowed into Washington.
During World War II, his maternal grandfather joined the U.S. Treasury. Later, he spearheaded the creation of the National Independence Committee. Their family capital flowed into giants like Honeywell and General Instrument.
Even now, they still hold seats on the board of American Express.
As for the Lehmans, they were the founders of Lehman Brothers. His maternal grandmother, Frances Lehman, was part of that bloodline.
So why did young Bronfman act so recklessly among the rich?
Because no matter what he did, someone would clean up after him. His mother's side was real old money.
Still, his antics had brought the family a lot of trouble.
Not that they were opposed to fighting — they just thought pointless fights were stupid.
If a conflict brought tangible benefits, fine. But when it devolved into pure emotion, what's the point?
Power isn't eternal. Stop tending it, and those lurking in the shadows will take your head.
So…
"I understand, Father," young Bronfman sighed, nodding. "They're all lunatics. The moment they see an opening, they'll cripple or kill their opponents. I won't go after them again."
That promise satisfied old Bronfman.
But the next second, his son turned back to him, eyes burning.
"But there's one thing I need to make clear."
"If they come after me again in the future, I'll fight back — to the end. I can't just let them trample over my interests, can I?"
"Of course not," old Bronfman chuckled.
"We don't start trouble. But we don't fear it either."
Their shared understanding made both men smile. The old Bronfman turned back to the TV and said, "I've checked on the EMI deal for you."
"Four billion dollars."
"You'll put up three. I know you've got the cash. I'll cover the rest — but keep this quiet. If your brothers find out, they'll make a scene."
"Oh, thank you, Dad!" Bronfman Jr. grinned wider.
If his father kept supporting his music ventures, he really could drop the whole revenge thing.
After all, his feud with Isabella started only because she cost him the chance to buy Warner Music.
Why didn't he pivot to another deal?
Because if someone slaps you, you don't just walk away — that's humiliating.
Even if he'd wanted to pivot, he couldn't. He only had thirty billion — just enough for Warner Music, not another giant.
Isabella's luck and Meyer and Iger's ruthlessness made him retreat.
And he wasn't the only one. Michael Eisner had the same idea.
Seeing Fox in ruins, he called his old friend George Mitchell.
After two rings, Mitchell picked up. A bit of small talk, then Eisner said, "I'm pulling out."
"Leaving Disney?"
"Yeah."
"Good."
Mitchell wasn't surprised. He knew Eisner's hands weren't clean.
Not just the quiet racism all "respectable" white men carried — but also the fact that the Weinstein brothers had long been his personal fixers inside Disney.
The physicist Yang Jinshui once said:
"Some things weigh nothing off the scale, but once you put them on, they crush you."
As long as Eisner's sins stayed buried, they were just minor abuses of power.
If exposed, even his family connections might not save him.
"So, you're opening talks with Roy and the others?"
"No."
"Huh?"
"I'm open to talks. But they have to come to me."
"Ah, I see — you want me to pass the message, right? That you're willing to negotiate?"
"Yes and no."
"How so?"
"Yes, because I do want you to relay it. No, because there's one more thing I need."
"What's that?"
"Come with me."
"I can do that."
"And before we leave, nominate Robert Iger as Disney's Chairman and CEO."
"..."
In Washington, at his law firm, George Mitchell looked up at the bright blue sky and chuckled.
"Oh, Michael… even when you're stepping down, you still want to make them squirm?"
"Ha! George, you get me. No one kicks me out unscathed!"
Eisner's laughter roared through the phone.
Yes — even in defeat, he refused to let Iger or Roy Disney win cleanly.
First, Robert Iger.
So he wants the throne? Fine. Eisner will publicly endorse him.
Don't underestimate that. To the shareholders, Eisner was the villain of Disney.
If he supported Iger, it would taint him instantly — guilt by association.
Eisner's public backing would make it look like the new "victor" was cut from the same rotten cloth.
As for Roy Disney — once Iger was thrown into the spotlight, Disney's peace was doomed.
Roy wanted control. Iger wanted the crown.
Before, they needed each other — Roy had the shares, Iger the operational grip.
But once Eisner exposed Iger's ambition…
They could no longer cooperate.
Not because they didn't want to — but because their camps wouldn't let them.
Iger's people wanted him enthroned so they could rise with him. Roy's people wanted their prince to rule so they could grab power.
So…
"George," Eisner asked.
"Yeah?"
"No one can resist power, can they?"
"Yeah. You're right… no one can."