It was late at night, but Jon Landau was still wide awake. As a producer, he needed to draw inspiration from various sources, and talk shows were one of them.
But tonight's episode of *The Tonight Show* had him breaking into a cold sweat.
"This is bad… this is really bad!"
Jon Landau's face was as pale as a ghost. He had made several phone calls—every single one to a Hollywood big shot—desperately hoping for a way out.
He had been in the industry for nearly twenty years. Was he really going to be crushed by a kid barely in his teens?
No. He refused to believe it.
But the harsh reality sent shivers down his spine. The "old friends" who used to be so warm to him didn't even bother making small talk—they just hung up the moment they heard his voice.
This was ridiculous!
Could Dunn Walker, a total newcomer, really have that much influence in Hollywood?
Anger makes people foolish. Desperation makes them lose reason. And right now, Jon Landau was still struggling to figure out where he had gone wrong.
"Jamie, it's me."
James Cameron was his last hope. The man had always been fair—surely, he would give him a chance to explain.
Cameron was silent for a long time before letting out a sigh. "Jon… you went too far."
"I went too far?" Landau's voice was filled with disbelief. "Jamie, you can't be serious! Did you even watch *The Tonight Show*? Do you know what that kid said? He basically accused me of poisoning the crew's catering!"
His tone was frantic.
Cameron frowned. "Jon… tell me the truth. Was it you?"
"Jamie, even you don't believe me?" Landau let out a bitter laugh. "And besides, what gives that kid the right to make such a claim? Where's his proof?"
Cameron sighed. "Dunn doesn't have any hard evidence, which is why he never directly accused you. But, Jon… think about it. You were fired from the project. Do *you* have any evidence that Don was behind it? If you don't, then what right did you have to make those reckless statements in the press?"
Jon Landau's expression darkened. If even Cameron was saying this… he was finally starting to realize just how deep a hole he had dug for himself.
"Jon, your statements broke a major taboo. Do you understand? I don't know about other studios, but I know for a fact that everyone at 20th Century Fox is in agreement—you need to face serious consequences."
Cameron had been his friend for many years, and though his words were harsh, there was also a hint of regret in them.
Landau fell into a heavy silence. His eyelids twitched uncontrollably as the full weight of the situation hit him like a freight train. A chill ran down his spine. "Jamie, you have to help me! I'll apologize—I'll make a public statement, go on TV, whatever it takes. I just need one more chance!"
At this point, he had no choice but to back down.
Cameron's tone grew heavier. "Jon, you still don't get it, do you? This isn't just some personal feud with Dunn anymore. To the public, you've already been labeled as someone who committed poisoning and defamation. And in Hollywood? You've become an outcast—a man who challenged the system."
Jon Landau let out a long, bitter sigh, his heart sinking. "Jamie… tell me… what do I do now?"
"Leave Hollywood," Cameron said, his voice carrying a mix of helplessness and pity. "Give it some years. Maybe when the dust settles, you'll have a chance to come back."
"Come back?"
Jon Landau let out a self-mocking laugh. He had once been one of Hollywood's top producers. If he left, where else could he enjoy the same power and prestige?
He regretted everything.
---
Jon Landau's downfall was no longer something Dunn needed to concern himself with. All he had to do was light the spark, and the industry's biggest power players would eagerly throw fuel onto the fire.
After all, what Landau had done—publicly exposing Hollywood's inner workings as a high-profile producer—was far worse than Mel Gibson's infamous anti-Semitic rant.
Gibson had offended a specific community.
Landau had made enemies with all of Hollywood's elite.
Dunn had already lost interest in the situation.
But the controversy had given *Titanic* an extra wave of publicity, making Dunn Walker's name as well-known across America as Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet.
And then came the second-week box office numbers. Just as Dunn had predicted, *Titanic* had *increased* in ticket sales—an extremely rare feat—surpassing $100 million in a single week.
$101.58 million, to be exact.
For the first time in Hollywood history, a movie had grossed over $100 million in a single week.
And even crazier—it was in its *second* week.
"Dunn, you're incredible! This is insane! You're not even twenty yet—God only knows how far you'll go in the future!"
Bill Mechanic called the moment the numbers dropped, his voice full of excitement and gratitude.
"Bill, you're too kind," Dunn replied, unable to hide his own joy. His success had solidified his worth in the industry. *Titanic* had officially deviated from its previous trajectory. "How's the international box office looking?"
Bill was practically bursting with enthusiasm. "It's taking off! We've already hit $1.2 billion, and it'll soon surpass the North American box office. Once it launches in the UK, Germany, France, Japan, and Australia, I bet we'll see another *massive* spike!"
Confidence radiated from his voice. If a second-week $100 million miracle could happen, what *couldn't* happen?
He was even starting to believe in Dunn's earlier prediction: an $1.8 billion *minimum*, with $2 billion as the *real* goal.
"Spielberg's new movie is coming out next week, right?"
Bill chuckled. "Dinosaurs are great and all… but they can't beat *our* big ship, can they?"
Dunn laughed. "Of course not! I said it before—*The Lost World: Jurassic Park* might have a strong opening, but in the long run? We have *zero* competition."
Bill was thrilled. "That's why I trust your instincts, Dunn. I always have, and I always will."
That was a bit of an exaggeration, but Dunn just played along. "And I appreciate that, Bill. Always."
---
On Thursday night, the *Jurassic Park 2: The Lost World* premiere was held at the TCL Chinese Theatre in Los Angeles.
With Steven Spielberg's reputation and influence, the event was packed with A-list stars—just as grand as the *Titanic* premiere two weeks prior.
Since Spielberg had attended *Titanic's* premiere, Dunn and Leonardo DiCaprio returned the favor, showing up in their finest attire. Kate Winslet, however, had returned to the UK due to personal matters.
At *Titanic's* premiere, Spielberg had barely acknowledged Dunn.
But now?
Two weeks into its release, *Titanic* had already grossed hundreds of millions. Even crazier, its ticket sales weren't dropping but *rising.* At this rate, a $500 million domestic total was all but guaranteed.
The previous record? Held by none other than Spielberg himself, with *Jurassic Park* at $440 million.
He didn't like the idea of some young upstart surpassing him. But then again—wasn't that exactly how *he* had risen to fame?
With a mix of bitterness and acceptance, Spielberg could no longer treat Dunn as just a newbie. Especially after Cameron had repeatedly credited Dunn's contributions to *Titanic.*
"Hey, Dunn! Long time no see!"
Spielberg greeted him like an old friend.
As a guest and a junior in the industry, Dunn kept it polite. "Hey, Steven! I've always admired you—you're one of my idols!"
Spielberg laughed. "*Titanic*'s numbers are amazing. I have to admit, I'm a little jealous."
Dunn smiled. "Come on now. With you at the helm, *Jurassic Park 2* is bound to set new records!"
Spielberg smirked. "Oh? Maybe an $1.8 billion *guarantee*?"
Dunn chuckled. "That might be tough. *Titanic* is a once-in-a-lifetime phenomenon."
Spielberg's smile stiffened.
It was an awkward conversation.
Leonardo, standing nearby, was on edge. He never imagined that his good friend, Dunn, had already reached the level where he could challenge a Hollywood legend like Steven Spielberg!
"Alright, Dunn, the premiere is about to start. Let's head inside!" Leonardo quickly stepped in to diffuse the tension.
Dunn flashed Spielberg a smile but showed no emotion as he walked into the screening hall.
"Dunn, are you sure about this? That's *Spielberg* we're talking about!" Leonardo lowered his voice, looking tense.
Dunn smirked, a hint of disdain in his expression. "So what? I can't stand these old guys who act like they're above everyone else just because of their experience. As long as he doesn't mess with me, fine—but if he does… hmph!"
Leonardo's face nearly twisted in shock. He didn't dare say another word.
In all of Hollywood, Dunn Walker was probably the only one bold enough to talk about Spielberg like that. *Thank God* no one else had heard it!
—
Halfway through the movie, Dunn let out a bored yawn. He leaned in and whispered to Leonardo, "This movie is so dull. It's not even as good as—"
He suddenly stopped mid-sentence.
Leonardo was sitting to his left. But the person he had instinctively turned to whisper to… was on his right.
And that person happened to be none other than Steven Spielberg's good friend, the renowned Hollywood director, Martin Scorsese.
Dunn was momentarily stunned, his face stiff with embarrassment. "Uh… hey, Martin…"
Scorsese glanced at him, barely holding back a laugh. "Kid, to be honest, I've always hated these mindless blockbusters that rely too much on visual effects."
Dunn thought about Scorsese's films for a moment, then suddenly had an idea. His eyes lit up. "Oh! I think Leo's acting style would be a perfect fit for your directing approach. You two should connect sometime."
Leonardo was so moved by those words that he nearly teared up. *What a brother!*
Scorsese gave Leonardo a brief look and nodded. "There will be an opportunity."