Everyone in Hollywood seemed to agree: this summer's biggest winner would probably be Isabella.
And this "win" might even mark the rise of a new immortal.
So, naturally, every industry insider was glued to the box office, trying to catch even the faintest miracle of divine ascension.
No, they weren't just bored out of their minds wasting time.
They were watching to gauge exactly how much influence Isabella truly held.
And the result of all that observation?
Nobody was happy.
The box office curve for Shrek 2, the first film truly affected by Isa's presence, was so bizarre that the entire industry was left dumbfounded. It crashed into a pit, then shot into the stratosphere—no one could make sense of it.
The first confusing thing—
The terrible opening.
If Shrek 2's disastrous start was because Isabella had devoured most of the public's attention, then her influence was terrifying.
Take Finding Nemo as an example.
Last year, when Finding Nemo premiered, it faced massive competition—giants like The Matrix Reloaded and Bruce Almighty.
Even so, Nemo still opened with $20 million in a single day.
So Shrek 2 opening with $10 million? Or even dipping to $9 million on its worst day?
If all of that was Isabella's doing, then she alone was worth the power of twenty-four armies—
Ahem!
2.4 billion, maybe?
The math was simple:
The Matrix Reloaded plus Bruce Almighty together made $1.2 billion total.
And those two combined could only push Nemo's daily box office down to $20 million.
So if Isabella could push Shrek 2 down to $10 million, didn't that make her worth $2.4 billion in influence?
$20M ÷ $10M = 2.
$1.2B × 2 = $2.4B.
Crude math, sure.
But who cared?
Even if you didn't double it, a personal influence of $1.2 billion was already absurd.
As everyone knew, the only film in the world to ever cross a billion was Titanic.
If Isabella alone could sink or float a Titanic-sized box office, then the whole Hollywood game was broken.
And honestly, many people already thought the game was broken.
The second thing nobody could explain—
That sudden box office explosion.
If Isabella caused Shrek 2's flop at the start, then what made it rise again later?
DreamWorks hadn't changed its marketing strategy.
There wasn't any sudden burst of public hype either.
So what, they were supposed to say "justice will prevail" or "a good movie can't be held down"?
Give me a break.
If that were true, then Shrek 2 would be stronger than Isabella herself!
Because right now, that big green ogre had single-handedly body-slammed "Isabella Haywood—America's true queen, the youngest two-billion-dollar actress in history, the youngest empty-crown record holder, the best-rated TV show creator, and our beloved Miss Beaver" straight into the dirt.
Seriously.
At this moment, every Hollywood executive would rather believe Isabella was worth $2.4 billion than believe Shrek had that kind of power.
So…
"What the hell is going on?"
"Anyone got real intel?"
Paramount,
Boardroom.
Chairwoman Sherry Lansing looked grimly at her staff.
Her assistant, secretary, and a few executives all shook their heads.
"Sorry, Sherry, we can't figure it out."
"So far, the feedback we've got says the American public just… suddenly fell in love with Shrek."
That vague explanation made Sherry's mouth twitch in disbelief.
Meanwhile, over at Universal, CEO Stacey Snider was hearing the same nonsense—and wasn't buying it either.
So she grabbed her phone and called Jeffrey Katzenberg.
Two rings. He picked up.
"You guys buy the box office?" she asked straight out.
"M—Fxxk! You think we bought it?" he shouted. "Who the hell buys fake box office on day four of release? That's suicide!"
Katzenberg roared, "Stacey! I swear to you—I was ready to jump off a building, and then suddenly Shrek's numbers just skyrocketed! I don't even know what's happening anymore! Okay???"
"..." Stacey went quiet.
She didn't believe it, but… he wasn't wrong.
Only an idiot would fake a record-breaking fourth day. It's too easy to expose, and once it is, your studio's done.
Not because buying box office was taboo—everyone had done it.
But breaking an all-time record with fake numbers? That was like smashing your coworkers' rice bowls.
If one movie can just magically become "the biggest of all time," every other studio head looks like an idiot.
And if everyone started doing it, the industry would collapse fast.
Fake box office costs money. High marketing costs mean plummeting profit. Then the executives can't explain the bad quarterly reports to their bosses.
Now, since Stacey Snider was basically Katzenberg's ally, if she suspected foul play, it meant every other studio's investigative team was already burning rubber.
"So…"
"What's the word from the North American Theater Association?"
Disney,
COO's office.
Bob Iger was also following the chaos.
His secretary shrugged helplessly. "Boss, the theater association says Shrek's data looks completely normal—'organic growth,' their words."
"Oh, so I'm the unnatural one here, huh?"
New York, Sony HQ.
Chairman Howard Stringer was also raging about the same thing.
After hearing his assistant's report, he exploded. "They called that 'natural growth'? You think I misread the numbers? Day one was $19M, day two $29M, and now day four $44M—is that it?"
"Uh…"
The assistant looked ready to play the world's saddest invisible accordion.
That weird motion made Stringer sigh and cool off a little.
He waved a hand. "I'm not blaming you. It's just… Shrek's numbers are insane. Too insane. It makes my job impossible."
The assistant nodded.
Stringer had officially taken control of Sony Entertainment last year, and like any new boss, he wanted to make a flashy debut.
But so far? Nothing to show for it.
He'd planned to make the acquisition of Boardman Records his crowning achievement after pushing out the old Sony Music chairman, Tommy Mottola.
Classic palace politics.
He wanted to clean house—replace Mottola's people with his own—and a big acquisition was the perfect excuse. It looked great on paper and padded the company's market share.
Simple math: merge, restructure, "reallocate talent," and the boss looks brilliant.
Basically, he wanted a shiny report, not a healthy company.
But then reality slapped him in the face.
Right after his takeover in April and his acquisition plan in May… the entertainment world caught fire.
The anti-Isabella alliance picked a fight—and it blew back hard.
When he heard that Edgar Bronfman Jr. was also bidding for Boardman, he nearly lost it.
But you don't "lose it" with old-money dynasties. Those people could smack Sony itself if they wanted.
So Stringer just had to swallow his rage.
That whole mess wrecked his "perfect" first-year plan.
With Sony Music's growth stalled, he turned to the film division to make up for it.
Like Rupert Murdoch, he wanted Spider-Man 2 to be the year's box office king.
If Azkaban got stuck in controversy, he was happy to stomp on it.
Too bad Murdoch couldn't get the smear campaign rolling.
Which left Stringer frustrated—because if Azkaban didn't fall, it'd probably win the year instead.
Yes, in Stringer's mind, getting Spider-Man 2 to second place worldwide was already his bare minimum.
He couldn't stomach dropping to third or fourth. The board would eat him alive.
But now?
Shrek 2 had apparently descended from heaven.
Four days in, and it had shattered Spider-Man's records—completely clean numbers, no signs of manipulation.
Stringer stared at his assistant.
"You think Azkaban will open at fifty million?"
He clenched his jaw.
"Are we… seriously about to end up third?"
"So Spider-Man, once number one in history, falls to number three in a month?"
At the same time, in the same city—
Over at the Hilton in Times Square—
Barry Meyer looked at the girl in front of him and asked the exact same question.
Except he wasn't angry.
He was smiling, thrilled.
"I think fifty million on the first day isn't a problem. Honestly, with how Azkaban looks right now, I'd say—first day fifty million, two days a hundred million, four days two hundred, six days three hundred, eight days four hundred, ten days five hundred. Just in North America."
"…"
That pie in the sky smacked Barry Meyer right awake.
He pursed his lips, staring at the girl before him. "Oh, Isa! I'm trying to have a serious discussion about the release plan!"
"Really? I thought you were making a wish!"
Isabella looked up from her newspaper, smiling sweetly. "Oh, Barry~ I thought you mistook me for Lady Luck herself, Fortuna! I'm not God! How would I know if Azkaban will break any records?"
Yes—
Isa had once again graced the lands of North America~
Her reason for coming was simple: on May 23rd, Azkaban was having its North American premiere.
Ahem, that would be today.
The event was held at Radio City Music Hall in Rockefeller Center, Manhattan.
For Isabella, attending the premiere should've been a happy thing.
She'd be stuck on set for a long time afterward.
Sure, a film crew was quieter than the outside world, but working nonstop... exhausting.
But nobody expected—seriously, nobody expected—
That right after getting off the plane, she'd be hit with explosive news and an even more explosive question.
Yep, the bizarre box office trajectory of Shrek 2 had stunned her too.
As for Barry Meyer's question...
Without photographic memory, Isabella couldn't actually recall who the 2004 box office champion was in her previous life.
But she knew one thing for sure—it wasn't Azkaban.
Because in her past life, Azkaban was the lowest-grossing HP film.
If that was the annual box office champion, then the HP series must've been godlike.
Uh…
Wait.
HP is godlike.
So if that green ogre Shrek was indeed the 2004 champion, then after Shrek 2 pulled off that mind-blowing performance curve… wasn't that basically heaven dropping an enemy on her?
Hiss—
Well, fine!
Guess she really is destiny's chosen one!
"Geh geh geh geh geh—"
As references from novels she'd read in her previous life kept popping up, Isabella burst into uncontrollable laughter.
Everyone around her looked puzzled.
The makeup artist, mid-prep, had no clue what she was laughing about.
The stylist, busy with Isabella's premiere gown, glanced curiously her way.
And Barry Meyer—
Well, he'd come over hoping for a little "good luck blessing" before she got into makeup, so he asked directly, "What's going on with you?"
"Oh, nothing~" Isabella waved him off.
Some jokes couldn't be shared, so she just enjoyed them herself.
Then she smoothly changed the topic: "By the way, Barry, now that Shrek 2 has surpassed Spider-Man's record, how high do you think its global box office will go?"
"Uh—maybe nine hundred million," Barry said, realizing she wasn't going to let him in on the joke. "Because Spider-Man, the record holder, made 821 million worldwide."
"And the domestic-to-international ratio was 50:50."
"So, if Spider-Man made 400 million in North America, Shrek 2 has a good chance to match that. But usually, 50:50 isn't normal."
"For blockbuster films, the international box office tends to be higher—more like 40:60, especially for animation. So if Shrek 2 makes 400 million here, it could easily make 500 million overseas."
"Four plus five equals nine, so about 900 million total."
"Oh, wait, you're British, so—"
"Never mind. You get what I mean."
Isabella nodded.
He meant that "domestic" and "international" were American terms, but as a Brit, she'd use "UK" and "overseas."
Irrelevant details.
What mattered was—Shrek 2 breaking 900 million.
Because so far, she'd never missed the annual box office crown.
So…
Yeah~
She admitted it—she was very status-conscious.
The thought that Azkaban needed to hit one billion to secure the top spot made her glance around the room.
But after scanning everywhere, she didn't see the person she wanted.
So she turned to her mother. "Where's Margot?"
"Huh? She was just here." Vivian looked around, puzzled.
Before they could start looking, a voice came from the door.
"Oh—I'm here!"
Margot Robbie came running into the presidential suite, holding up a medium-sized red handbag with no logo.
"Isa, what do you think of this bag?"
"Does it match my outfit?"
Little Robbie was wearing a sleek black mini suit and pants, her golden hair tied back—simple and sharp.
Like a secretary.
Once she slung the red bag over her shoulder…
That bright spot of color against the black outfit drew all eyes.
"Oh~ I think it's great~"
Isabella grinned. "You'll walk the red carpet with me just like that. No need to change your look."
Yes, Isabella's red carpet partner today was Margot Robbie.
They'd decided that a week ago.
Why Robbie?
First, her usual companion J.K. Rowling couldn't come—she was pregnant again, due in January.
Second, walking the carpet with Harry or Ron would look weird. They each had to go solo.
Third, Robbie was signed to her company.
Why hand publicity to outsiders when she could boost her own talent? That'd be idiotic.
And fourth—
"Oh~ classic red-and-black combo, nice choice~"
Barry Meyer gave Robbie a thumbs-up but frowned.
"Isa, isn't your gown white? White and black already go well—why the red bag?"
"I think she'd look better without it."
That comment made both Isabella and Robbie burst out laughing.
Isa beckoned Robbie over, and the girl sat beside her, opening the bag.
Isabella reached in, rummaged for a moment, and pulled out—
A red-and-gold Iron Man glove, complete with a glowing repulsor in the palm.
"???"
Barry Meyer froze.
"Iron… Iron… Iron Man?"
His jaw practically fell off.
"Yeah~~~"
Isabella flexed the fingers and laughed. "Iron Man~~~"
"Marvel merch! Fun, right?"
"…"
That confirmation made Barry's eye twitch.
He stared at the glove, then at the grinning girl, then back at the glove.
Finally, he walked over to inspect it himself.
After confirming it was indeed an Iron Man prop glove sold by Marvel, he went through an entire opera of facial expressions—shock, disbelief, amusement, resignation.
At last, he sighed, half-laughing. "Oh, Isa—you really want to win more than I do."
"HAHAHAHAHA~"
Vivian, Catherine, Robbie, and Isabella all laughed together.
"So why didn't you let me prepare something like that?"
Barry handed the glove back as Robbie tucked it neatly into the bag.
"Because if I'd told you," Isabella said, shrugging, "you'd have turned it into some marketing stunt, and that's pointless."
"In my view, only genuine public affection keeps people coming back for your work."
"So…"
"If no one mentions Marvel on the red carpet, I'm not showing it off."
Exactly~
She wasn't some cavewoman. She browsed the internet daily and knew how her "Beaver" persona had evolved online.
Since Marvel—and Spider-Man fans—were so passionate, she figured, why not attract a few more herself?
So she had Robbie, who was in the States, get the glove.
Queen Bee had already wrapped filming, but Robbie stayed in L.A. to study acting.
In Isabella's plan, she'd "hide" the glove for the carpet walk. If enough people brought up Marvel, she'd reveal it and soak up some buzz.
Because Spider-Man fans actually showed up in theaters.
And if nobody did?
Well, she wasn't the one carrying the bag anyway.
Having a hardworking assistant like Robbie made everything easier.
And in the end—
Makeup done, gown fitted, at 4 p.m. Isabella arrived at the Radio City Music Hall red carpet.
The roaring screams hit her like a tidal wave—North American fans were as wild as ever.
The crowd stretched endlessly, covering the sky like a living sea.
She'd done this so many times that the smiles and waves were pure reflex.
Then—
Whoosh—
From the crowd, a wave of fan signs lifted up.
All with adorable cartoon beavers.
Some wore wizard robes—clearly Hermione Beaver.
Some held fiery rings—Lord of the Rings Beaver.
Some wielded lightsabers—Hermione Skywalker.
And one… had a whip.
That made Isabella pause. She couldn't recall any famous character with a whip—until she noticed the pistol on the beaver's belt. Right, Indiana Jones. So that'd be Beaver Jones.
The creativity made her chuckle.
Her fans were truly a bunch of clowns—in the best way.
While she admired the art, someone shouted—
"Isa! Do you surf the web? Have you seen these?"
"There are rumors you'll play other classic roles—is that true?"
"Oh—and I read comics too!"
The sudden questions made her grin.
She raised a finger to her lips—"shh"—which disappointed the fans.
They thought she was dodging the question.
But a moment later, Isabella waved over the red carpet host.
The host, knowing Isabella was the person not to upset tonight, hurried over.
Taking the mic, Isabella smiled. "Someone just asked if I've seen the cartoon beavers. Oh—my God— I browse the internet daily! Of course I've seen your memes! They're called emoji, right? I use them in chats too!"
"WOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
The crowd erupted in laughter and cheers.
Then came another wave of shouts—
"Isa! Are you filming something other than HP?"
"Isa! Are you really doing Iron Man?"
"Isa! Marvel or DC—which do you like more?"
"Isa! Will you keep working with Chris?"
The enthusiasm was overwhelming—and delightful.
Normally, she'd just let them yell and wave back.
But today—
She glanced at Margot Robbie.
Robbie unzipped her bag, reached in, and raised it high—
The shining Iron Man glove.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
"ISA!! ISA!! ISA!!"
"HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO—"
The premiere exploded into chaos.