The heavy oak doors of Richard Blackwood's home office swung open.
Evelyn walked in, holding a thick, plain black folder tightly against her chest. She looked around to make sure nobody else was in the hallway before closing the doors behind her and locking them.
Donovan was sitting on the leather sofa, playing *Pokémon* on his Game Boy, while Richard was at his desk reviewing stock reports. They both looked up, surprised by the sudden secrecy.
"I just got a phone call from a private number," Evelyn said, her voice unusually quiet. She walked over to the coffee table and dropped the black folder. It didn't have a title on the cover, just a watermarked serial number. "A courier just dropped this off. Hand-delivered from Marin County."
Richard raised an eyebrow, taking off his reading glasses. "Marin County? That's George Lucas's territory."
Donovan paused his Game Boy. His human memory instantly calculated the timeline. It was 1995. George Lucas was secretly writing the first draft of the prequels.
"Lucas is returning to the galaxy," Evelyn whispered, leaning against the desk. "He's casting the origin story of Darth Vader. He wants Donovan to fly to the Skywalker Ranch tomorrow to read for the part of Anakin Skywalker."
"Darth Vader as a kid?" Richard asked, instantly intrigued. He tapped his pen against the desk, the billionaire gears in his head turning. "Lucas finances his own movies so he doesn't have to answer to studios. But making a sci-fi epic today requires massive CGI. It's going to cost him a fortune."
"Exactly," Donovan smiled, standing up and picking up the black folder. "He has the vision, but he needs the technology. Dad, you need to come with us tomorrow. Offer him our VFX division and Warner's global distribution. We don't just want the acting role. We want a piece of the whole galaxy."
Richard's predatory corporate smile slowly spread across his face. "I'll have the private jet fueled up by morning."
***
The next afternoon, the Blackwood family SUV drove through the heavily guarded gates of Skywalker Ranch.
The sprawling property in Northern California looked more like a peaceful vineyard than the headquarters of the biggest sci-fi empire in history. There were rolling green hills, a beautiful lake, and a massive Victorian-style main house.
George Lucas was waiting for them in his private screening room. He was wearing his signature plaid flannel shirt and jeans, looking exactly like the quiet, bearded genius he was.
"Evelyn, Richard. Thank you for flying out on such short notice," George smiled, shaking their hands. He looked down at Donovan. "And you must be the kid who scared half of Hollywood to death in *The Sixth Sense*."
"It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Lucas," Donovan said politely, shaking his hand.
They sat down on the plush theater seats. George grabbed a notebook.
"I'll be honest," George started, leaning forward. "Anakin is the hardest role I've ever had to cast. He needs to be a sweet, innocent kid. A slave who loves his mother and dreams of flying. But... the audience knows who he becomes. The actor has to be able to show a tiny, almost invisible hint of darkness. Most kids just look angry when they try to act dark. It looks fake."
Donovan nodded. He knew exactly what the original movie lacked. The original Anakin was too young, too cartoonish. He needed to be a teenager, someone capable of real anger and real love.
"I read the scene you sent, Mr. Lucas," Donovan said calmly. "The part where the Jedi Council tests him. Asking him what he's afraid of."
George nodded. "Exactly. Yoda asks him about his mother. Show me what you've got, Donovan."
Donovan didn't need a red blanket this time. He just relaxed his posture, sitting perfectly still. He let the brilliant, confident aura of Donovan Blackwood fade away, replacing it with the restless, anxious energy of a kid who had grown up as property on a desert planet.
"How feel you?" George asked, reading Yoda's line.
"Cold, sir," Donovan replied. His voice wasn't weak, but it was guarded.
"Afraid are you?"
Donovan looked down at his hands. He let a perfect, entirely genuine flicker of vulnerability show in his eyes. He looked like a little boy who just realized he might never see his mom again.
"No, sir," Donovan lied softly.
"See through you, we can," George read, his own voice getting quieter, completely drawn into the scene. "Afraid to lose her, I think."
"What's that got to do with anything?" Donovan asked.
And then, Donovan made the shift.
He didn't yell. He didn't make an angry face. He simply let a microscopic drop of absolute, freezing malice seep into his eyes. It was the ancient, quiet danger of a predator. For a split second, the sweet, innocent boy vanished, and the chilling shadow of Darth Vader stared back at the creator of Star Wars.
The temperature in the room felt like it dropped ten degrees.
"Everything," George whispered, almost forgetting his line. "Fear is the path to the dark side."
Donovan held that terrifying, cold stare for two more seconds. Then, he blinked. The shadow vanished. The polite, smiling twelve-year-old was back.
"Like that, Mr. Lucas?" Donovan asked naturally.
George Lucas slowly lowered his script. He stared at Donovan for a long time in absolute silence. Then, he looked over at Richard and Evelyn.
"Cancel whatever else you have planned for the next two years," George said, a massive, relieved smile breaking across his face. "We start shooting in London in four months."
Richard Blackwood casually adjusted his suit jacket and leaned forward.
"That's wonderful news, George," Richard smiled, his eyes gleaming with business. "Now, before we sign the casting contracts, let's talk about the visual effects budget for those space battles. I think my company can make your life a whole lot easier..."