After leaving New Line Cinema, Kevin headed directly to the CAA headquarters.
Dawson, having already received confirmation of the wire transfer, was waiting for him in the lobby.
Upon meeting, Kevin cut straight to the chase.
“Dawson, I need you to help me register a film production company.
I’m going the independent route.”
Dawson nodded; Kevin had discussed this ambition with him beforehand.
First and foremost, it was a tax strategy.
Filing taxes through a corporate entity offered significantly lower rates than filing as an individual—a fundamental loophole utilized by the wealthy.
Secondly, Kevin had no intention of remaining a mere director-for-hire working for a flat fee; he wanted to be an investor.
A director who consistently delivered box office hits was an invaluable resource.
If he only ever made money for other studios, it would be a colossal waste of his own potential.
“We’ll call it Morning Light Pictures.
For the logo, I want a single ray of morning light breaking over the horizon at dawn.
Find a top-tier design firm to mock it up.”
Armed with his knowledge of the future, elevating this company to the ranks of Hollywood’s “Big Five” wasn’t just a pipe dream.
A man had to have ambitions.
As for appointing a CEO and building out the corporate structure, Kevin wasn’t in a rush.
While he was currently the hottest commodity in Hollywood, until he proved he could deliver continuous hits, the industry might just view him as a one-hit wonder.
If he openly recruited executives right now, he wouldn’t be able to attract truly top-tier talent.
For now, an empty shell company was more than enough, as long as it allowed him to legally co-finance his next project.
With Dawson handling the logistics, Kevin returned to his hotel.
“Jolie, want to go look at some houses?”
“Sure.”
At this point, Jolie already considered herself the lady of the house.
Unfortunately for her, she had no idea that Kevin was a staunch opponent of marriage.
As a wealthy man, marriage wouldn’t just constrain him; it could completely ruin him financially.
Nicolas Cage and countless other Hollywood A-listers had been driven into massive debt by vicious divorces, and Kevin had absolutely no intention of suffering the same fate.
Of course, Kevin wouldn’t treat Jolie unfairly.
He would always prioritize his own people when casting his films.
For example, Get Out required a compelling, deeply seductive white actress to fully embody the sinister nature of the girlfriend character.
That exact “femme fatale” aura was precisely what Kevin needed for the role.
Kevin hadn’t originally planned to buy real estate so soon.
But after carefully reviewing his memories of this era’s timeline, he realized that the next major economic crash wouldn’t hit until 2007.
That gave him a sixteen-year runway.
The current market was still in the recovery phase of a recent recession, making right now the most cost-effective time to invest in property.
With that in mind, the decision was a no-brainer.
More importantly, the Los Angeles riots were going to erupt next year, and Beverly Hills would undoubtedly be the safest place in the entire city.
It was a cynical reality: perhaps only in America was police presence directly correlated to the amount of taxes a neighborhood paid.
As a major tax-paying district, Beverly Hills naturally enjoyed the highest level of police protection.
At least here, Kevin didn’t have to worry about being dragged into an alleyway and robbed at knifepoint while taking a walk.
In this era, any Black person simply wandering through this affluent neighborhood would likely face a police stop every three steps—a harsh reality of racial profiling, but a strict security buffer Kevin was admittedly happy to benefit from.
After a brief stroll, Kevin got a firsthand taste of what true safety felt like.
Within half an hour, he saw patrol cars cruise past three separate times.
However, because he and Jolie were both white and looked like an attractive, wealthy couple, they didn’t raise any suspicions.
The officers didn’t stop to question them; they merely smiled and drove on after making eye contact.
Kevin took it all in stride.
Spotting a high-end real estate agency nearby, he and Jolie walked straight in.
A bald, middle-aged agent immediately approached them.
“Hello there, how can I help you?
Are you looking to buy or rent?”
The man’s face naturally assumed a fawning, customer-service smile.
Anyone who dared to walk into a real estate agency in Beverly Hills had deep pockets.
Even at the absolute lowest commission rate, he stood to make a killing off a single deal.
“Buying,” Kevin said decisively.
Hearing that, the agent Litt’s face instantly lit up.
“Right this way, sir!
Please, follow me.”
Kevin and Jolie followed him into the spacious interior of the office.
A massive, scaled 3D model of the entire Beverly Hills neighborhood dominated the center of the room.
Catching the slightly surprised looks on his clients’ faces, Litt couldn’t help but puff out his chest with pride.
This highly detailed 3D model—which he had invested a small fortune in—was precisely his.
The layout, privacy, and quality of each estate were obvious at a glance.
Once a client picked a property from the model, a physical tour almost always sealed the deal.
After all, nobody went house-hunting in Beverly Hills unless they already had the capital to buy.
The only deciding factor was the house itself.
With a hint of pride, Litt began his pitch.
“Sir, take a look at this estate right here.
That belongs to Hollywood star Nicolas Cage.
And right next door, this stunning home is currently vacant, and the owner is highly motivated to sell.”
As Litt eagerly introduced the properties and their layouts, Kevin carefully observed the miniature estate models.
There was no denying it—these estates were strictly designed for the ultra-wealthy.
They boasted sprawling floor plans with numerous bedrooms and bathrooms, private swimming pools, manicured gardens, and even personal groves of trees.
Just looking at the sheer luxury made one’s heart pound.
Living in an estate like that would naturally elevate anyone’s mood.
And the neighbors were entirely composed of the super-rich: business tycoons, elite executives, and A-list celebrities.
Even Tom Cruise’s mansion was just down the street.
All of this firmly cemented Kevin’s urge to buy.
If he didn’t snatch up property during this market dip, he would end up paying exponentially more once the economy fully bounced back.
Furthermore, with his massive tax bill looming, hoarding cash simply meant handing the majority of his newfound wealth directly over to the IRS.
To avoid being bled dry by the government, his primary objective right now was to spend lavishly.
“This one,” Kevin said, tapping the model.
“Take us to see it.”
Litt swallowed hard, desperately suppressing his excitement.
The house Kevin pointed to was the very same luxury villa he had pitched initially, perfectly nestled near Tom Cruise and Nicolas Cage.
It was a stunning two-story modern home with a sleek, flat roofline.
Priced at over six million dollars, it was worlds away from what any average person could afford.
Eager to strike while the iron was hot, Litt led the couple out the front door, where a sleek Lincoln was parked.
In America, a Lincoln was the ultimate luxury vehicle, easily costing over a hundred thousand dollars.
Clearly, Litt was doing quite well for himself.
Then again, it was only natural; to survive and thrive as a real estate agent in Beverly Hills, having a net worth in the millions was basically the bare minimum.
Holding the glass doors open for them, Litt escorted Kevin and Jolie into the Lincoln and drove them directly toward the villa.