One week later, two trust funds were officially set up.
One for Martina Fuentes Lee — beneficiary: Monica Fuentes (mother).
One for the unborn daughter, temporarily registered as "Daughter of Lee Neves" — beneficiary: Elena Neves (mother).
Each fund started with ten million dollars, managed by a Swiss bank. The annual returns would cover education, medical, and living expenses.
The principal could only be touched once the child turned twenty-one.
Monica found out while she was home breastfeeding.
"Ten million?" She blinked.
"Yeah."
"And you gave her ten million too?"
"Yeah."
Monica stayed quiet for a few seconds, then let out a long sigh.
"You're really generous."
Raphael sat down beside her.
"They're both my kids. Same treatment."
Monica looked at the baby in her arms, then at him.
"Fine. Your daughter's hungry again. Can you get me a glass of water?"
Raphael stood up and went to pour it.
That night he lay on the sofa — Monica still hadn't let him back into the bedroom — eyes closed, replaying the last few months.
All told, he had been stuck in that dream world for almost a full year this time. No idea how much longer it would last.
He drifted off.
In the dream he heard a baby crying, Monica calling him an asshole, Elena whispering "I want this."
Then every sound vanished.
Nothing but white.
Raphael's eyes snapped open.
Sunlight leaked through the curtains and fell across the bed.
He was lying in a very familiar bed.
On the nightstand was a framed photo of him and Jessica Alba.
He stared at the ceiling for a long time.
Soft breathing came from beside him.
He turned his head.
Jessica was curled on her side, fast asleep, hair spilled across the pillow. The corner of her mouth was lifted in a tiny smile, lost in some sweet dream.
Raphael watched her face, mind completely blank.
"What's wrong?" Jessica woke up, voice still sleepy as she looked at him.
"…Nothing."
She rubbed her eyes and sat up.
"Bad dream?"
"Not bad. Just… really long."
Jessica scooted closer and rested her head on his shoulder.
"What did you dream about?"
Raphael paused, then told her straight.
"I dreamed I had two daughters."
Jessica froze for a second, then laughed softly.
"Sounds like a good dream."
Raphael didn't answer.
No point overthinking it.
He would definitely get pulled back into that dream world again someday. The feelings, the attachments… he could deal with them later.
---
Half a month later.
Malibu, early morning. Sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows into the bedroom.
Raphael leaned against the headboard, flipping through a magazine. Jessica was still asleep beside him, breathing steady, long hair fanned across the pillow.
His phone buzzed.
Raphael glanced at the screen — Ari.
"Raphael, big news."
Ari's voice was low but buzzing with excitement.
"What?"
"Universal just watched the rough cut of Step Up."
Ari paused for effect. "They want to buy it."
Raphael raised an eyebrow.
"How much?"
"Eighteen million."
Ari spoke fast. "But there's a condition — you have to sign the Fast & Furious 2 contract right away."
Raphael stayed quiet.
Eighteen million.
Total budget was ten million. Universal wanted to flip it for an eight-million profit?
Cute.
"Anything else?"
"They're being generous on your fee."
Ari sounded proud. "Twelve million! For a guy who just turned twenty, that's top of the line, Raphael."
"When do we meet?"
"Soon as possible. Ron Meyer himself wants to sit down — NBC vice-chairman, the guy who runs Universal. This is huge."
Ron Meyer?
Fine. Let's talk.
---
Two days later, Universal Studios headquarters, Universal City.
When Raphael and Ari walked into the conference room, seven or eight people were already seated.
Front and center was a silver-haired, commanding man — Ron Meyer, NBCUniversal vice-chairman, one of the most powerful people in Hollywood.
Beside him sat several suited executives and Neal Moritz, producer of The Fast and the Furious.
"Raphael Lee."
Ron Meyer stood and extended his hand, smile perfectly calibrated. "Pleasure."
Raphael shook it.
"Mr. Meyer."
"Please, sit."
Everyone settled. After a few minutes of small talk, Ron Meyer got straight to business.
"I'll be direct. I watched the rough cut of Step Up." He paused, eyes lingering on Raphael for a beat. "It's very good."
Raphael waited.
"We want to buy it."
Ron Meyer continued. "Eighteen million. At the same time, we'd like you to sign for Fast & Furious 2 as soon as possible — twelve million. That's our show of good faith."
He slid two contracts across the table.
The room went quiet.
Raphael glanced at the papers, then looked straight at Ron Meyer.
"Mr. Meyer, eighteen million for full rights to Step Up — isn't that price a little low?"
Ron Meyer's smile faltered for half a second.
One of the executives jumped in. "Raphael, eighteen million is already very generous. The movie cost ten million total — you walk away with eight million profit. That's excellent—"
"I know the budget," Raphael cut him off calmly. "I also know the box office this movie is going to do is way bigger than that number."
The executive frowned.
Ron Meyer raised a hand, silencing him.
"Then what do you want?"
Raphael didn't answer right away.
He leaned back in his chair. The Force stirred quietly inside him.
Invisible threads reached toward Ron Meyer — not control, just the lightest nudge, making him more open, more willing to listen.
"I don't want much. Universal handles worldwide distribution, you cover the P&A costs. Once it crosses a hundred million at the box office, fifty million flat for all derivative rights — sequels, DVD, TV, streaming, everything."
Dead silence.
The executive's face turned red.
"That's impossible! Fifty million? Are you out of your—"
"I wasn't talking to you."
Raphael kept his eyes on Ron Meyer, voice steady. "I was talking to Mr. Meyer."
Ron Meyer stared at him, expression unreadable.
As a man who had clawed his way through decades in Hollywood, he had seen every kind of young actor — arrogant, humble, clever, stupid.
But this twenty-year-old in front of him gave him a strange feeling.
Everything the kid said somehow sounded… reasonable.
"Give me a reason."
Ron Meyer said, "Convince me."
Raphael smiled.
"Because this movie is mine. From the original idea to the script, from casting to every day of shooting — I oversaw all of it."
His voice rang with absolute confidence. "I'm sure it will do at least a hundred and thirty million worldwide. At that point, Universal's profit will be far more than fifty million."
With his and Jessica's current popularity, Step Up's global box office would crush the original timeline's numbers. Raphael had zero doubt.
Ron Meyer stayed quiet for a few seconds.
The executives exchanged glances. Someone opened his mouth to argue, but Ron Meyer raised a hand again.
"Keep talking."
"Also—"
Raphael changed direction smoothly. "About Fast & Furious 2, I'll sign. But I want to sign for two movies."
Ron Meyer raised an eyebrow.
"Two?"
"That's right — 2 and 3."
Raphael said, "Back-to-back, no break between them. Turn the second and third into one continuous story. It saves money and keeps the franchise tighter."
Neal Moritz's eyes lit up.
He had floated the same idea before, but Universal brass had always hesitated.
Now that Raphael was the one suggesting it, the weight was completely different.
"Salary?" Ron Meyer asked.
"Twelve million per film," Raphael answered. "Twenty-four million total. But I'd like to structure it differently—"
He paused.
"I can roll my salary into the production budget and take a percentage of the back end instead."
This time even Neal Moritz shook his head.
"Raphael, that won't work. Studios never accept that model. Too much risk, too messy on the books."
Ron Meyer shook his head too.
"Young actors with ideas are great, but rules are rules. Salary is salary. You can't buy in — at least not yet."
Raphael watched their reactions. With the Force feeding him their emotions, he could feel the wall of decades-old industry rules pushing back.
He nodded.
"Then no equity. Full salary, no cuts."
Ron Meyer was quiet for a few seconds, then laughed.
"You've got balls, kid."
Raphael didn't smile. He just looked at him.
The Force kept flowing, making Ron Meyer feel like maybe… the kid's ideas weren't so crazy.
"Two films back-to-back, total salary thirty million," Ron Meyer said. "Final offer."
Raphael glanced at Ari.
Ari gave a tiny nod.
"Deal." Raphael extended his hand.
Ron Meyer shook it firmly.
"Pleasure doing business."
---
One week later, Universal City, press conference hall.
Dozens of media outlets packed the room, cameras flashing nonstop.
The massive backdrop read: Fast & Furious 2 & 3 Officially Greenlit — Raphael Lee to Star.
Raphael stood on stage beside Ron Meyer, Neal Moritz, and the newly signed supporting cast.
He wore a casual outfit, smile easy and professional, fielding questions smoothly.
"Mr. Lee, signing for two huge films at once — how does it feel?"
"Feels great," Raphael answered. "Universal showed me a lot of trust. I'll repay it with my best work."
"You also sold worldwide rights to Step Up to Universal. Can you share any details?"
Raphael looked at Ron Meyer.
Ron Meyer took the mic.
"Details are still under wraps, but I can tell you we have very high expectations for this film and look forward to its September release next year."
Another reporter raised a hand.
"Mr. Meyer, can you reveal the shooting schedule for Fast & Furious 2 & 3?"
Ron Meyer glanced at Raphael, then at Neal Moritz.
Neal took the microphone.
"Shooting dates are locked in."
He said, "Principal photography starts mid-February next year and wraps by early July. The two films will shoot back-to-back with no break. Primary locations are Miami and Los Angeles, with some possible second-unit work in Mexico for the third film."
Reporters scribbled furiously.
"Four and a half months for two movies? That's an insane pace for Hollywood."
Neal smiled.
"That's why we hired the best crew! We have zero concerns about Raphael's stamina."
Raphael smiled beside him and stayed quiet.
"Raphael, do you feel confident about that shooting intensity?"
Raphael took the mic.
"Absolutely. Brian O'Conner was made for me. Four and a half months? I'd do a year if they asked."
The cameras flashed again.
The press conference ended with smiles and handshakes.
Outside, the California sun was bright and warm.
Raphael walked out with Ari, the weight of two massive franchises now resting squarely on his shoulders.
He didn't feel heavy.
He felt ready.