Chapter 59: Power Moves and Growing pain's
Monday – FaceWorld HQ – 9:12 a.m.
The financial war room buzzed with tension. Screens glowed, contracts were stacked like dominoes, and Jake Harper sat at the head of the table, flanked by COO Callum and legal advisor Ellen Givens. Across from them, a representative from Global Investment Group slid a signature folder across the polished surface.
"This finalizes everything," the man said. "Three-point-six billion. Your acquisition of Netflix is now fully funded. Wire transfers begin today."
Jake didn't react with excitement. Just calm focus.
He reviewed the papers one last time, nodded, and handed them back.
"Proceed."
Ellen submitted the confirmation.
Just like that, Jake Harper owned Netflix.
---
Monday Evening – Brentwood – 7:48 p.m.
Judith paced the kitchen with the Los Angeles Times folded under one arm, phone pressed to her ear.
Jake sat on the living room floor, laptop open, issuing a directive to the PR team about controlling the timing of the Netflix news leak.
Judith covered the receiver. "Your company's on the front page again. You've got reporters calling my office line now."
Jake didn't look up. "It'll blow over."
Judith returned to her call. "He just bought Netflix," she said, voice hushed. "I don't even know how to explain that to people."
Jake tuned it out.
The press embargo was already slipping. Forums had picked up the whispers. An early tech blog headline read:
> "Netflix Acquired by Teen Titan – FaceWorld Expands Empire"
Jake's FacePhone buzzed.
[1 New Message: Haley]
> "Are you ever going to talk to me? Or are you too busy planning your next empire?"
Jake stared at the screen.
He'd been texting her. Updates. Little jokes. Voice notes.
But maybe she didn't want updates.
Maybe she just wanted him.
---
Tuesday – Cheviot Hills – 4:12 p.m.
Jake stood on the Dunphys' porch, thumb over the doorbell. His heartbeat felt uncharacteristically fast.
When the door opened, Haley stood there in a hoodie, arms crossed, lips pressed into a tight line.
"You finally show up," she said. "Come in."
Jake stepped into the familiar hallway, but the air felt unfamiliar—tense. She didn't lead him to the couch. She just stood near the door.
"You're famous again," she said. "And not just for FaceWorld this time."
Jake tried to smile. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
Haley didn't return it. "You were on national TV. Flirting with Scarlett Johansson."
"It was a joke," Jake said. "Just banter."
"It didn't feel like a joke to me," she said. "It felt like the first time I've seen you… act like you weren't mine anymore."
Jake's heart sank.
"I didn't mean it like that."
"When's the last time we even had a real conversation?" she asked. "You're always working. Always somewhere else."
Jake tried to explain. "Things are moving fast. I'm doing what I can to hold everything together."
Haley shook her head. "You're doing what you want. What you think matters. But I'm still here, Jake. And I'm starting to feel like just another notification you keep swiping away."
Jake's voice dropped. "That's not fair."
"Isn't it?" she said, quieter now. "You're thirteen. And somehow already too busy to be thirteen."
Jake swallowed. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying I don't think I can do this anymore."
There was no anger in her voice now. Just sadness.
Jake didn't argue. Didn't try to negotiate.
He just nodded.
And walked out.
---
Tuesday Night – In Transit to Malibu – 6:45 p.m.
The car ride was silent, the city lights blurring past as Jake stared out the window, FacePhone dark in his lap. He didn't text anyone. Didn't check his email.
Callum had offered to meet later.
Judith had asked if he wanted dinner.
He'd said no to both.
He wasn't going to Malibu for work.
He was going because heartbreak didn't care how much money you had.
Tuesday Night – 7:25 p.m. – Malibu Beach House
The front door to Charlie's house was unlocked.
Jake pushed it open to the dull thud of bass and the sharp scent of alcohol mixed with coconut sunscreen. The living room was dimly lit, scattered with red plastic cups, someone's jacket over the lamp, and three people Jake didn't recognize passed out on the couch.
Jake sighed.
In the kitchen, two girls in bikinis were laughing while mixing something in a blender.
Charlie wasn't in sight.
Jake stepped over an empty beer bottle and called out, "Uncle Charlie?"
No response.
He followed the sound of laughter to the deck, where Charlie stood barefoot in a button-down shirt and boxers, holding a half-empty whiskey glass and gesturing wildly at two women on lounge chairs.
"…and that's why you never mix gin with existential dread—oh, hey, kid!"
Charlie raised his glass like nothing was out of place.
Jake stood there, hands in his pockets, eyes dark. "Can I talk to you?"
Charlie looked at him for two seconds. Then turned around.
"EVERYBODY OUT!"
The command echoed with unexpected force.
One by one, people started to gather their things, some laughing, others confused. Jake stepped aside as the party disassembled.
Ten minutes later, the house was quiet—messy, but quiet.
Charlie returned, freshly dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, barefoot still, drink now replaced with water. He looked around at the wreckage and then at Jake.
"You look like hell," he said. "Worse than me—and I threw out a Swedish model and a bottle of 18-year-old Scotch tonight."
Jake sat down on the couch and stared at the floor. "I broke up with Haley."
Charlie raised his brows and dropped into the armchair across from him.
"Scarlett Johansson?"
Jake shook his head. "Not really. Haley said I've changed. That I'm always gone. Always working. That she feels like a footnote in my life."
Charlie whistled low. "That's a hell of a thing to hear from your first love."
Jake looked up. "How do you get over something like that?"
Charlie leaned back, arms behind his head.
"You don't," he said. "Not right away."
He let the silence hang a second.
"But you also don't let it sink you. Especially not over the first girl who kissed you like she meant it. Know why?"
Jake didn't answer.
"Because your dad made that mistake," Charlie said. "Alan met your mom, saw one decent moment of attention, and boom—he was all in. Completely blind. Spent the next ten years holding onto something that stopped working by year three."
Jake looked down.
Charlie continued. "You wanna know how many amazing women I've met since your dad got divorced? All of them. You know how many I've married?"
"Zero," Jake muttered.
"Exactly. Heartbreak isn't a reason to stop—it's a reason to learn."
He pointed at Jake.
"You're building something nobody's ever seen before. A life, a legacy, a company that could outlive countries. That's lonely work, kid. You're gonna lose people along the way. Just don't lose yourself."
Jake exhaled slowly. "I thought she was it."
"She's not," Charlie said flatly. "She's a great first chapter. But the book's still being written."
They sat in silence again, the waves crashing in the background.
Finally, Jake asked, "Did it ever happen to you?"
Charlie looked out the window. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Once."
Jake glanced at him.
Charlie took a sip of water and forced a grin. "But that's a story for after your first hangover."
Jake smiled faintly.
Charlie stood. "Come on. Help me clean up. You can stay the night."
Jake stood too. "Thanks."
Charlie patted him on the back. "One more thing."
Jake turned.
Charlie raised a brow. "Next time, flirt with someone not old enough to rent a car. Makes things simpler."
---
Wednesday – Early Morning – Malibu Guest Room
Jake lay awake on the twin bed in the guest room, listening to the ocean just beyond the glass.
His FacePhone sat on the nightstand, untouched.
A message from Haley still sat unread.
He didn't open it.