The Rise of a Dream
"Wake up," Charlie Lee said gently the next morning, leaning against the head of the bed and watching the beautiful woman in his arms slowly open her eyes. His lips curled into a warm, affectionate smile.
"Hmm…" Ingrid Bergman murmured softly. Having just transitioned from a girl to a woman, her gaze was full of reliance and tenderness as if she wanted to stay in his arms forever.
"It's time to get up. I've got important business today," Charlie said, patting her gently on the back.
"Are you leaving?" Ingrid's body tensed involuntarily, her eyes betraying a hint of panic and helplessness.
"No, we're leaving together," Charlie reassured her, cupping her face in his hands and stroking her cheek softly like one would a kitten. The touch made her relax.
"There's a new dress for you," Charlie pointed to the wardrobe. He got out of bed and began gathering the clothes scattered across the floor—remnants of last night's passion.
Blushing deeply, Ingrid stood and steadied herself on the bed. Her movements were slightly awkward as she walked to the closet, grabbed the dress, and hurried to the bathroom.
"It's not like I haven't seen it before, you silly woman," Charlie muttered, a mischievous grin on his face. Pride gleamed in his eyes as he thought about her beauty.
Though he wasn't fully aware of Ingrid's fame yet, Charlie felt deeply satisfied. Her elegance and charm easily put her in the league of goddesses. Thinking about her long, graceful legs, Charlie couldn't help but smile at the thought of the upcoming 1930s—a decade he decided to dub "the era of leg worship."
"You look stunning," Charlie said as Ingrid stepped out of the bathroom, fully dressed in a custom-made gown and adorned with the jewelry he had picked out that morning.
Her face lit up. "Charlie, this dress is beautiful."
"You're even more beautiful than it," Charlie said, pulling her into a gentle kiss.
The outfit had cost Charlie less than $20,000—an absurdly low price for such elegance, considering the economic times. Still, he thought it was worth every penny.
As for Ingrid, he couldn't help but marvel at her charm. He decided she would stay with him, becoming part of his life in ways that went beyond repayment for his million-dollar investment in her career.
With the bulk of his $20 million investment already distributed across different sectors—including the Golden Arches project, acquisitions of McDonald's and Subway, and development through his Blue and White Chamber of Commerce—Charlie's business empire was growing rapidly.
His ventures now included stakes in beverage giant PepsiCo and automobile manufacturer Packard, all of which were part of his restructuring efforts. Meanwhile, the Chicago Grand Theatre and other personal assets remained directly under his name.
At this point, Charlie had capital reserves of $320 million, a fortune that felt nearly impossible to spend. In an era where $1,000 could buy several movies, two standalone homes, or even a luxury apartment, his wealth could buy a quarter of America—or so he joked.
"Sometimes, having too much money is a burden," Charlie mused, thinking of the sky-high taxes he would face in just a few months.
Ingrid returned after breakfast, her face glowing with a light application of makeup. She smiled brightly and looped her arm through his.
"Flowers would envy your beauty, my queen," Charlie whispered, holding the door for her as they left the hotel suite and walked toward the elevator.
In the lobby, Aria Mahdi was waiting with a team of associates.
"This is Ms. Ingrid Bergman," Charlie introduced, gesturing toward Ingrid. "Aria, my chief counsel."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Bergman," Aria greeted warmly.
"Thank you," Ingrid replied with a shy smile.
After a quick inquiry about breakfast, Charlie asked, "And where's Lawrence?"
Aria gestured outside. "He's there."
Charlie followed her gaze to find Lawrence squatting by the roadside, looking utterly disheveled and dejected.
"Brother, are you cooked?" Charlie teased, smirking.
Lawrence glanced up, his face pale and eyes hollow. He barely acknowledged Charlie before glancing at Ingrid. His expression soured further.
With a loud clap, Lawrence stood. "Give me five minutes," he muttered before rushing to the bathroom with a towel he had snagged from the bar. Four minutes later, he returned, looking slightly more presentable.
"You look decent enough. Maybe next time, try soap," Charlie quipped. With Ingrid glowing beside him, they climbed into the car and headed straight for Walt Disney's humble office.
The "Disney Studios" turned out to be a simple two-story factory shed covering about 200 square meters.
"Is Mr. Disney in?" Charlie asked a staff member, barely containing his mixed emotions of excitement and disbelief.
Fifteen minutes later, Charlie, Lawrence, and their entourage were escorted to the second floor, where Walt Disney finally arrived.
"Is it you?" Charlie and Lawrence exclaimed in unison.
Disney frowned in confusion. "Have we met, gentlemen?"
Both men recognized him immediately as the man they had seen the night before. After exchanging knowing glances, Charlie sat while Lawrence stepped forward.
"Mr. Disney, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Lawrence Chen Rockefeller," he said, extending a hand.
Disney's demeanor changed instantly. "It's an honor, Mr. Rockefeller," he said nervously.
Lawrence wasted no time diving into flattery. "My friend Charlie and I watched Steamboat Willie last night. Mickey Mouse is brilliant—cheerful, optimistic, and endlessly amusing. He's truly a masterpiece."
Flattered and slightly flustered, Disney's cheeks turned pink, but he quickly regained composure. "Thank you for your kind words, Mr. Rockefeller. Now, what can I do for you?"
"We'd like to join you in this great endeavor and make history together," Lawrence said enthusiastically.
"I'm not interested in selling shares," Disney replied bluntly.
"Mr. Disney, please hear our proposal first," Lawrence pressed, his tone calm but determined.
After a pause, Disney nodded. "Go ahead."
Lawrence laid out the offer: "Your company's market value is currently no more than $100,000. Charlie and I are willing to invest $50,000 for 40% equity."
The offer, though generous, was met with another firm rejection. "I'm sorry, but I must decline," Disney said, unfazed.
Charlie stood, his eyes locking onto Disney's. "How about this: $200,000 for 40% equity. I'll guarantee zero interference in the company's operations. I only ask to appoint financial oversight to protect my interests."
The room fell silent. Everyone present was stunned by Charlie's offer—double the company's estimated market value.
Disney studied him intently. "Your sincerity is compelling, Mr. Lee. If you can put everything you've said in writing, I think we can become great partners."
Shaking hands, the deal was sealed. For $200,000, Charlie had secured a 40% stake in what he believed would become an animation empire.
"Here's to a successful partnership," Disney said, shaking Charlie's hand warmly.
"Indeed," Charlie replied, a triumphant grin on his face.
As they left the studio, Lawrence couldn't help but whisper, "Buying a piece of Disney's future for $200,000? That's crazy."
"It's not crazy—it's genius," Charlie corrected, the pride in his voice unmistakable.