Anne Hathaway?
If Luke had to pick one actress in Hollywood to play Snow White, he couldn't think of anyone more perfect than Anne Hathaway.
She had long, golden hair and bright blue eyes — fairer than snow, with a sweet, pure smile that felt straight out of a fairy tale.
Yet in striking contrast to her angelic face, she stood an elegant 5'8" with graceful curves that could make any man's heart race.
At this point, Anne Hathaway had just turned eighteen. Her fresh, youthful energy was impossible to ignore. She had just finished shooting the hit The Princess Diaries and would soon star in The Devil Wears Prada.
Those two films would cement her status in Hollywood.
"I'll take this job. What's the product?" Luke immediately accepted once he knew Anne Hathaway would be his co-star.
Just like Mr. Eisen had said, if Luke wanted to quickly become the "Golden-Skinned Prince" accepted by Western audiences, pairing himself with a "Snow White" on-screen was the fastest shortcut.
"Cartier couples' watches," came the reply.
Luke blinked. Cartier was a famous luxury jewelry brand, known for making watches with a jeweler's eye rather than a technician's. Its style was worlds apart from the more engineering-driven watch brands.
Their now-iconic Ballon Bleu line hadn't even launched yet, but Cartier was already firmly established as a high-end luxury brand.
And for celebrities, endorsing luxury goods was a dream gig: high pay, light work, great image exposure — benefits all around.
Eisen's plan was for Luke and Anne Hathaway to shoot a short narrative film, from which several seconds of footage would be cut into the actual commercial.
The longer version would be used to shape audience perception gradually, while the short cut would be pushed to the media.
"I agree with your plan," Luke said, "but I want to decide on the script for the short film."
"You're writing the script yourself?"
"Of course not. But I do have a great story to adapt — I just need the company to secure the rights."
"…All right. But remember, the commercial income doesn't count toward your box office record," Eisen reminded him.
"…"
Luke had no comeback. True enough, this wasn't action-film revenue.
Over the next few days, Luke brought in director Rob Cohen, who happened to be free, to help shoot the promotional film.
Once the contract with Anne Hathaway was finalized, their first meeting was kept private and skipped over in the press.
Finally, filming day arrived.
The short film was titled Diary from the Past.
It opened with a flurry of quick-cut shots.
Inside an octagon cage, Luke — a mixed martial artist — raised the UFC championship belt multiple times.
He stood in the center of an arena, basking in glory.
But in the final shot, his right arm was brutally wrenched by an opponent's ground technique…
From there, he fell from the peak of his career, no longer the fighter he once was, and quietly left the arena that had given him endless honor.
One day, while walking home in despair, Luke found a notebook on the street.
At home, he opened it and discovered it was a girl's diary.
Curious, he read on. Each page was neatly written with the same refrain:
"April 16: Nothing good happened today. I feel so miserable."
"April 17: Same as always. Life feels hopeless."
…
Since leaving the octagon, Luke himself had felt lifeless every day. He understood the sentiment.
So he took a pen and wrote in the diary:
"I feel the same — so depressed, unable to see the future."
To his shock, a new line appeared beneath his words in delicate handwriting:
"Who are you? Why are you scribbling in someone else's diary?"
Luke froze. How could this happen?
The handwriting matched the girl's entries exactly. It had to be her.
Overcoming his initial panic, he wrote back:
"My name is Luke. I'm 20 years old. I used to be a UFC fighter."
"Wow! I know you! I watched your fight tonight. Congratulations on your championship!"
"My name's Anne. I'm 18. I've been watching your matches a lot lately. Your courage gives me strength!"
Luke stared at the words. He'd been out of the ring for nearly two years — how could he have won a championship tonight?
He flipped to the diary's front page and saw the date: 1999. But it was 2001 now.
Was this girl writing in an old diary?
So he wrote:
"Anne, can I ask you something? What year is it where you are? I haven't fought in two years."
"It's 1999!"
"But it's 2001 here. From my perspective, you're living two years in the past!"
"Talking to someone from two years ahead must feel strange. I'm sorry to hear you're not competing anymore. Can you not give up?"
Another line appeared before Luke could respond:
"Do you still long to stand in the octagon?"
Through that line, he could almost see a blonde girl sitting before her diary, writing earnestly.
How could he not long for it?
His talent, his glory, years of training, his hopes for the future — they were all there.
Only…
"My right hand was badly injured and never fully recovered…" he wrote instead of answering directly.
"It can heal, right? Please don't give up your dream!"
"No matter how hard or hopeless it seems, please keep going."
"In my darkest days, your fights gave me strength. Let's work hard together, okay?"
Reading the girl's words, Luke felt energy returning to him. He decided he would overcome the odds and get his right hand healed.
In the days that followed, Luke visited hospital after hospital, only for experts to pour cold water on his hopes.
The passion that had flared up was extinguished again. He began doubting he would ever return to the octagon.
Overwhelmed by despair, he wrote in the diary:
"Another doctor just crushed my hopes. There's no chance left. I want to die."
"Don't ever say 'I want to die' so casually! Do you know how hard it is for some people to keep living?"
A line of shaky handwriting appeared instantly. For the first time, Anne's tone was so heavy.
The camera cut to a hospital.
Anne Hathaway, wearing a blue-and-white striped patient gown, sat receiving an IV drip. Through a port in her left arm, a bottle of white fluid slowly flowed into her body.