Philip answered Raphael's question.
"They saw the CK campaign you shot and the Dior sunglasses numbers. They think your image fits perfectly with their new sports watch line—young, energetic, and controversial. Exactly what they're looking for."
Philip glanced at him, his tone turning playful.
"Plus, you've been pretty hot lately. That whole Charlize thing blew up, but your popularity didn't take any hit. Luxury brands live for that kind of buzz."
Raphael shrugged, completely unbothered.
"When's the shoot?"
"No rush. Contract's still being negotiated. Earliest is next month."
Philip looked at him. "You taking it?"
Raphael let out a short laugh and gave his manager the "are you stupid" look.
"Of course I'm taking it. Twenty million? Only an idiot would turn that down."
Philip snapped his fingers like he'd predicted it.
"Knew you'd say that!"
Raphael suddenly remembered something.
"Oh, right—add one condition when you negotiate."
"What condition?"
"Co-star."
Raphael said, "If they need one, prioritize Lima and Alessandra. They worked great with me on the CK campaign. The chemistry was solid."
Philip's eyes filled with pure disdain.
"No problem. With your pull, that's not even a big ask. I'll bring it up."
Raphael nodded.
Philip filed away all the documents and asked,
"What's next?"
Raphael thought for a second.
"Contact Ari first. Get the new Underworld contract locked in with Lake Shore. Our company covers the remaining twenty-five million. Lock in the schedule around my availability. After that—"
He paused.
"We'll figure out the rest later."
Philip nodded.
"Got it. I'll set the signing for within a week?"
Raphael stood up.
"Works for me."
He reached the door, then turned back.
"Oh yeah—schedule a time for that Malibu house. I want to bring Jessica to see it."
Philip suddenly gave him a knowing smile.
"Bringing her?"
"Yeah."
Raphael said, "I'm still living in her place. Only makes sense to let her check out the new one."
Philip nodded.
"Cool. I'll set up the viewing and let you know."
Raphael pushed the door open.
Philip's voice followed him out.
"Almost forgot—don't miss the Oscars next month! It's not about winning anything. It's about the public attention."
Raphael waved lazily over his shoulder to show he'd heard.
He was definitely going. This year was different from last. He needed that stage to solidify his status and value in the industry.
Sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows in the hallway, bathing everything in warm orange-red tones.
He'd just signed a twenty-million-dollar TAG Heuer deal and was about to drop fifty million on a house.
But Raphael didn't feel it was excessive. Compared to most Hollywood stars, he was actually pretty conservative and frugal.
He wasn't at Taylor Swift levels yet, but he was doing better than ninety percent of A-list male actors.
The next two and a half weeks were busier than ever for Raphael.
Several big things hit at once, and he barely had time to breathe.
February 20th, the final paperwork for Marvel's delisting and privatization was completed.
Philip called while Raphael was on the treadmill in the gym.
"It's done."
Philip sounded exhausted. "All legal documents signed. Public shares fully bought back. Marvel is now one hundred percent yours."
Raphael hit pause on the machine.
"How much?"
"Thirteen point three million. Right around what we expected."
Philip explained, "The float was actually a bit smaller than projected—only 3.6%—so we came in about two hundred thousand under budget."
Raphael grunted.
"What about Stan Lee and the founders? Still refusing to sell?"
"Yeah. Their shares didn't move. Couldn't do anything about it."
Philip sounded annoyed. "But it doesn't matter. Less than five percent total. It won't affect control."
Raphael figured he was right.
"Alright. That's that."
He hung up and went back to running.
But the chain reaction Raphael triggered was only just beginning.
That same afternoon, Marvel Entertainment posted a short statement on their official website: The company has completed its privatization process. 96.7% of all equity has been transferred to R.L. Productions. The new controlling shareholder is Raphael Lee.
The news exploded across Hollywood.
The Hollywood Reporter ran it first: Twenty-One-Year-Old New Owner of Marvel — Raphael Lee's Capital Empire
Los Angeles Times was more direct: From Street Racer to Anakin Skywalker to Comic Book Giant — He Did It in Two Years
Variety focused on the money: Industry insiders estimate the Marvel acquisition cost between $400–500 million. Where does a newcomer who debuted just two years ago get that kind of cash?
Some outlets even started calling Raphael Lee Hollywood's current News-Making Machine.
Public curiosity went nuclear.
Wild rumors spread everywhere.
Some claimed he was the illegitimate son of a Middle Eastern tycoon (they just stopped short of naming a Jewish conglomerate). Others said he had mysterious investors behind him. A few swore he was a long-lost Rockefeller heir—because of his mixed features.
The most ridiculous version came from the tabloid National Enquirer.
They claimed Raphael's real father wasn't the deceased man at all, but an unnamed Wall Street tycoon, and that Madeline had been paid hush money before remarrying.
Raphael was eating breakfast when he saw that paper.
He read it stone-faced, crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it in the trash.
"Bunch of idiots."
After years of rebirth, it was rare for Raphael to slip back .
But Fox News clearly didn't agree.
On February 22nd, one of Fox's evening news programs ran a special report.
The reporter had somehow dug up Madeline's tax records and employment contracts, proving she was just a regular Ernst & Young executive making around eight hundred thousand a year—nowhere near enough to fund hundreds of millions in her son's spending.
The segment ended with the host using that ominous tone: "So the question remains—where exactly is Raphael Lee getting his money?"
When Raphael saw the report, his face turned cold.
The Sun reporter incident had barely died down, and now Fox was jumping in?
It was Murdoch again.
On the surface it looked like they were defending him, but in reality they were pushing him into an even bigger vortex. How could he not be pissed?
He picked up his phone to call Philip, then hesitated and put it down.
Now wasn't the time to explode.
He had no idea if Fox had dug deeper—specifically into Harvey Weinstein and the Sun reporter incidents.
If they were suspicious and started investigating, storming over to take out Murdoch right now might set off a massive bomb.
So Raphael took a deep breath and shelved it for the moment.
But with his personality, there was zero chance he'd swallow this insult quietly. Once the timing was right…
Ari and Philip both called the next morning with the exact same advice.
"Rafe, whatever you do—do NOT respond!"
Ari was dead serious.
"Answering now just gives them more ammo. Let them guess. Let them make shit up. The quieter you stay, the less they have to write. And if the rumors get too ridiculous, the public will treat it as tabloid garbage and stop believing them."
Philip agreed completely.
"Fox is baiting you to come out swinging. The second you open your mouth, you lose. Let the story cool off naturally. Trust me—I studied this stuff in college."
"So you're just flexing your college degree?"
Raphael rolled his eyes.
But he still took their advice.
For the next several days he kept a low profile.
He either hit the gym or stayed home, occasionally video-chatting with Jessica.
He even turned down several invitations from Jennifer, citing that he wasn't available.
Paparazzi camped outside Jessica's villa for three days and didn't catch a single photo of him.
Just as predicted, the story slowly died down.
But Raphael's opinion of Murdoch dropped another few notches.
Until February 25th.
New York, Aman Hotel.
Raphael sat in the living room of the top-floor suite across from TAG Heuer's global CEO and several brand executives.
Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, snow still covered parts of Central Park.
The signing was more formal than the one in L.A. The contract terms had already been finalized—this was just the ceremony.
Raphael signed the final page. The twenty-million-dollar deal was officially in the bank. With his current heat, there was zero chance he'd accept payment in installments.
These luxury brands had deep pockets and rarely nickel-and-dimed on small details like this. It was exactly why stars loved working with them.
After seeing the TAG Heuer team out, Raphael didn't leave the hotel.
He went upstairs, changed into casual clothes, and made a call.
Forty minutes later the doorbell rang.
The moment the door opened, two figures threw themselves at him.
Lima and Alessandra.
"Bad boy!"
"You finally showed up!"
Raphael was dragged inside as the door slammed shut.
For the next three days, he barely left the Aman suite.
The two Brazilian supermodels showed with their bodies just how "starved" they had been—and expressed their gratitude for the TAG Heuer opportunity.
The brand had indeed given each of them a contract for a sub-line campaign.
It wasn't the main line, but it was still luxury. For models who lived on their looks, this was basically a golden ticket.
Given how cutthroat the modeling world was, Lima and Alessandra knew exactly what they were doing.
That was also why, even though they knew Raphael had a wandering eye and couldn't resist a beautiful woman, they still refused to break up with him.
There were plenty of people in the industry showing interest in them, but these two women—who had been navigating the fame game since they were teenagers—knew better than anyone who actually treated them well and could genuinely help their careers.