Chapter 77

Charlie Lee's Grand Vision for Disney

By the time Walter had regained his composure, Charlie Lee was already enjoying a delicious lunch. Walter, still in disbelief over the brilliance of Charlie's ideas, couldn't contain his excitement.

"Charlie, you're a genius! A true genius! Your arrival has been a gift to the cartoon world. It's nothing short of a miracle! I can't believe this… I'm so thrilled!" Walter's words tumbled out in an incoherent rush, and his excitement was almost palpable. He danced around, barely able to contain his joy.

Realizing that Walter might be on the verge of an emotional breakdown, Charlie calmly pressed him back into his seat. "Don't get too excited, Walter. Have some coffee. Calm down."

"I do need a drink, but not coffee," Walter replied quickly, signaling to the waiter. "Bring me a whisky."

After downing a glass of whisky, Walter's enthusiasm began to subside, though his gaze at Charlie was still intense, almost burning with admiration. It made Charlie feel somewhat uncomfortable.

"Walter, these ideas are fairly simple in concept, but the execution will be challenging. I've got a vision for you and your team to carry out," Charlie said, his voice steady and purposeful.

Charlie's idea was bold and grand. He wasn't just thinking of creating cartoons, but an entire animated universe—a vision that mirrored the Marvel Universe, but one that would belong to Disney.

"All the stories will have intertwined clues, leading to a massive Cartoon Kingdom. We can expand this world endlessly, creating a crazy, fantastical realm. What do you think?" Charlie's eyes sparkled with the intensity of his vision.

Walter was at a loss for words. The concept was wild, ambitious, and almost too grand to be real. But there was no denying the potential. After a long pause, Walter spoke, his voice filled with admiration and awe.

"Charlie, I take back what I said earlier. You're not just a genius; you will redefine the cartoon world. People will call you the father of cartoons. You're a madman," Walter said with a complex expression in his eyes.

Charlie chuckled at the compliment. "Ha ha, thank you for the praise. I like the name of madman. It suits me."

"To the genius madman!" Walter raised his empty glass, clearly excited to take on the challenge. He couldn't wait to bring these wild ideas to life, so he quickly made his exit. "I'll go back and get started. I can't wait to see this Cartoon Kingdom come to life."

As Walter left, Charlie leaned back in his chair, feeling a sense of satisfaction. There was still so much more to do. He had yet to explain Disneyland's development and surrounding areas, a project that was still in its infancy. His mind was already racing with possibilities, including how to integrate Hello Kitty, the beloved pink kitten, into Disney's future lineup. Charlie was eager to see how such an icon would shake up the world.

"Boss, it's time for you to go," Aimo said, interrupting Charlie's thoughts.

Charlie nodded, standing up and heading out of the restaurant. "Book flowers for Miss Garbo. I want her to wake up every morning surrounded by their fragrance." With this, Charlie launched his first round of pursuit.

As Charlie sat on the bus to Los Angeles, his mind shifted focus from Disney to other concerns. His goal of building a Cartoon Kingdom for Disney was clear, but another idea kept creeping into his thoughts: could he create a world that would see the Marvel Universe appear before its time?

"Forget it, let's leave that to the experts," Charlie muttered to himself, slouching in his seat, trying to push away the headache from his mind. After all, he had enough wealth to eventually buy Marvel and DC once they became profitable. Who knew if comics would even take off at this point? There were safer investments, like mines, that would certainly guarantee returns.

"Having a mine at home sounds capricious," he added lazily, still half-distracted by his train of thought.

As the car drove into Los Angeles and arrived at Pommel Hotel, Charlie wasn't greeted by Ingrid Bergman as expected. Instead, he was met by Eva, who was carrying a "football baby"—a curious way to describe the stuffed animal she had in her arms.

"Boss," Eva's greeting was sharp, and Charlie almost jumped at the sound of her voice.

"Where's Bergman?" Charlie asked, trying to avoid focusing too much on Eva's presence.

Eva seemed to catch the shift in his attention and gave a slightly bitter response. "Miss Bergman is resting upstairs."

Charlie felt an awkward pang, but he quickly shrugged it off. "You know, the Chinese really aren't into the 'big size' things," he added cryptically.

"Upstairs. She's resting," Eva repeated, clearly not interested in continuing the conversation. Charlie let out a quiet sigh and headed for the elevator.

When Charlie entered the room, he found Bergman asleep on the bed, her face a little darker than he remembered. Life in Hollywood wasn't easy, especially for actresses. They were often put through exhausting schedules and pressures, and the toll it took on them was evident in her tired appearance.

As Charlie gently brushed her hair from her face, Bergman slowly stirred, her eyes fluttering open. A moment of surprise flashed in her eyes as she realized he was there.

"Wuwu…" she murmured, and before either of them could speak, she kissed him deeply. The kiss was all-encompassing, filling the space with urgency until they were both gasping for air.

When they finally broke apart, Bergman placed her hand on the scar across Charlie's chest, her voice soft with concern. "Is this from the bullet wound?"

Charlie nodded, his expression calm. "It's over now."

The wound had looked much worse than it actually was. Charlie knew he had been in danger at the time, but his body had healed quickly, and the scar was the only reminder left.

Bergman stroked the scar gently, her tone filled with worry. "Promise me you'll protect yourself. I don't want to hear any bad news about you."

"I promise," Charlie said firmly, wrapping his arms around her. "I'll be careful."

They held each other for a while, the warmth of their embrace soothing the tension that had built up over the past few days. Just as they were beginning to relax, there was a knock at the door.

"Miss Bergman, your evening dress is ready," Eva called from the hallway. She opened the door just enough to hand Bergman the gift box and then retreated, her envy barely concealed.

Charlie could sense the discomfort Eva felt, but he didn't dwell on it. Instead, he helped Bergman out of bed, admiring the dress as she prepared for the evening. The luxury items that Charlie had arranged for Bergman's wardrobe had been flown in from Chicago. It was a rare treat in Los Angeles, where high-end stores were still few and far between.

After the quick preparations, Charlie and Bergman made their way to the banquet hall. The evening was to be filled with political figures and Hollywood elites, all gathered under one roof.

When they arrived, Governor Frances Edwards greeted Charlie warmly, immediately pulling him into an embrace.

"Charlie!" Frances exclaimed, his broad smile lighting up the room. "It's good to see you again."

"Frances," Charlie replied, equally enthusiastic, as they walked side by side into the banquet.

"Miss Bergman, the ladies are over there," Eva said to Ingrid, who had just entered the room.

As they mingled with the guests, Charlie noticed that Roosevelt, sitting in a wheelchair, was hard to miss. His presence seemed to shine in the room, though Charlie was aware of the complicated political context surrounding him.

As they exchanged pleasantries, Frances made a playful jab at Charlie. "Don't try to take a cent out of my pocket," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Charlie laughed, responding with a mock warning. "Ha ha… you can try, but I'll be the one laughing all the way to the bank."

As the evening continued, the conversation turned to politics, with jokes and jabs flying freely. Charlie, however, was keenly aware of the underlying tensions. Roosevelt, a known traitor to the Republican Party, was now part of the Democratic camp, and that was a subject many preferred to avoid.

"I'm an independent," Charlie quickly reminded Frances when the topic came up, making sure no further arguments would follow.

With that, the rest of the evening passed in good spirits, filled with laughter and light-hearted jokes. Charlie was right where he needed to be—building his network, pushing forward his vision for DreamWorks, and securing his place among the most influential figures in Hollywood and politics.

As the night drew to a close, Charlie found himself once again looking to the future, wondering just how far his ambitions would take him.