Just as Stan Lee, Jim, and Jihoon were still exchanging ideas—animatedly debating cinematic universes and film strategy.
Amanda stood not far away, quietly observing with her daughter, Mara, by her side.
Normally, if Amanda entered a room like this, she would instantly become the center of gravity.
People would flock to her, eager to bask in her aura, as if she were the star of the evening.
But today was different. No one swarmed her. No one bowed to her presence.
And surprisingly, she didn't seem bothered in the slightest.
Instead, her attention was locked on Jihoon.
Watching him confidently pitch his grand 'cinematic universe' vision to Stan Lee, Amanda couldn't help but be reminded of someone.
The memory came sharp and immediate: Jordan Belfort.
The way Jihoon spoke—the charisma, the unshakable belief, the bold sales pitch—it was the same energy she'd seen in Jordan before his world of fraud came crashing down.
And yet… Amanda smiled faintly to herself.
If this boy actually pulls it off, wouldn't that be something? Wouldn't that be a blast?
True, Amanda didn't know the first thing about filmmaking.
Scripts, cameras, directing—it was all outside her wheelhouse.
But she was an expert at one thing: recognizing talent.
And the more she watched Jihoon, the clearer it became.
This young man wasn't just clever—he was dangerous in the way all visionaries are dangerous.
"Mara," Amanda said suddenly, her lips curling into a playful smile. "Do you think I should invest in your company?"
Her daughter's reaction was instant and explosive.
"No!" Mara snapped, her face tightening like a child whose favorite toy was being threatened. "JH Pictures belongs to me!"
Amanda raised an eyebrow, amused.
The girl's expression said it all—frowning, puffed cheeks, eyes flashing with possessiveness.
It was as if she already believed JH Pictures was her personal asset, never mind the fact that she was just an employee there.
But Amanda understood.
Mara had been raised in a world where family wealth and power could bend reality.
To her, anything could be hers—bought, taken, or claimed—if she simply wanted it enough.
"Okay, okay," Amanda said quickly, raising her hands in mock surrender. "I won't get involved."
Still, something nagged at her.
Mara was acting like she owned JH Pictures, but Amanda knew the truth.
She had already done a thorough background check the moment Mara told her she was joining Jihoon's company.
She knew the shareholders, the equity breakdown, and most importantly, Jihoon's identity: the grandchild of Korea's powerful Samseong Lee family.
Which raised a critical question.
"Mara," Amanda asked, lowering her voice, her sharp gaze fixed on her daughter, "does that Jihoon know who you really are?"
Mara tilted her head, scratching it absentmindedly, wearing that same innocent, clueless expression she always did.
"I don't think so… why, Mom?" she replied, blinking as if the thought had never once crossed her mind.
Amanda stared at her daughter, speechless for a long moment.
She had always known Mara was naive, maybe even careless, but this was something else entirely.
How can she not see it? Amanda thought.
She's working for a company she doesn't own, and she's still walking around acting like it's hers for the taking.
Amanda rubbed her temples, feeling the sharp throb of a vein pulsing at her forehead. Finally, she let out a tired sigh and voiced the question that had been burning at the back of her mind.
"Then tell me, darling—how exactly do you plan to make JH yours? Do you need Mommy to step in and buy the company shares for you?"
Mara's face remained blank, her brows furrowing in genuine confusion. Without hesitation, she blurted out, "Why would Mommy need to buy the company? Can't I just ask Jihoon to give it to me?"
Amanda slapped a palm over her face. Utterly speechless.
Her daughter's words hit like a hammer of frustration.
But if she thought about it, wasn't this the exact problem?
Mara had grown up in a cocoon where asking was enough.
Since she was little, she'd been conditioned to believe anything—money, houses, cars, even businesses—could be hers with a single request.
It wasn't entitlement, Amanda realized, it was conditioning. Mara had never once been told "no."
Amanda exhaled sharply, her patience thinning.
"Then tell me," she pressed, her voice tinged with exhaustion, "how exactly do you expect him to hand you his shares? Explain that to me."
Mara put a finger to her lips, frowning as though she were actually trying to think.
After a few seconds, her eyes lit up and she spoke with the earnestness of a child explaining a schoolyard trade.
"Hm… I know! My butler already bought me some Netflix shares. I can just trade them with Jihoon for JH's shares."
"Since I'm his assistant, I know he's been buying Netflix stock regularly. He's planning to build an online streaming platform with it, right?"
"So if I give him my Netflix shares, he'll probably agree to swap with me. Don't you think so, Mom?"
Amanda blinked at her, dumbfounded.
Netflix? Trading?
To Mara, this was no different than swapping toys at recess—one mansion for another, a private jet for a yacht, a company for a shiny gadget.
It was childish logic, but sadly, this was exactly how children of immense wealth thought.
Because in Mara's mind, power and property weren't earned, they were simply exchanged, always available if you played your hand confidently enough.
"Netflix…" Amanda muttered under her breath, the name pulling her back into sharper focus.
Of course, she had heard of the company before.
Just a few months ago, her advisors had placed a report on her desk.
According to their analysis, Netflix was still little more than a DVD rental business.
Their judgment at the time had been simple: an interesting venture, but hardly worth the attention of a family empire.
Amanda had trusted their assessment.
Advisors could be wrong, of course, but it was her job as management to filter their predictions, weigh their accuracy, and decide whether something was worth pursuing.
And back then, she had dismissed Netflix as a distraction, a small-time operation clinging to an outdated model.
But now, hearing her daughter's words about Jihoon's plans, Amanda's stomach tightened.
An online streaming platform?
She immediately grasped what that meant.
And the more she thought about it, the more her shock grew.
If Jihoon was serious about transforming Netflix into a global streaming hub, then he wasn't playing at business—he was setting the stage to overturn the entire cinematic system.
Amanda's eyes narrowed.
She didn't need to understand the filmmaking process to recognize the threat.
She was already a veteran in the media industry.
And from that perspective, the vision was crystal clear: if cinema were ever to shift into the online world, bypassing traditional distributors, cutting theaters out of the equation, and putting films directly into people's homes, it would completely rewrite the rules of the entertainment business.
She could already imagine the tidal wave of interest, the billions in potential revenue, the way audiences across the world would latch onto such a platform.
Slowly, Amanda turned her gaze toward Jihoon.
The boy looked harmless enough, chatting and laughing with Stan Lee, but Amanda's expression hardened.
Behind that easy smile was something far more dangerous.
Deep down, she knew: if Jihoon succeeded, he wouldn't just be another filmmaker.
He would become the man who rewrote the entire film industry.
And that made him very, very dangerous.