"How much do you want?"
Murdoch wasn't surprised that Martin rejected his $70 million offer. He got straight to the point.
Martin smiled at him.
For a brief moment, Murdoch was stunned.
Damn, this kid really is good-looking.
Then, he heard Martin say—
"I can give Fox the rights for free."
Murdoch's guard shot up immediately.
"Free" is always the most expensive.
He had learned this lesson decades ago.
After all, his entire Fox empire had been built on free-to-air broadcasting.
"...Oh?" he asked cautiously. "And what's the catch?"
Martin's smile widened.
"I want half of the advertising revenue."
"What?! That's impossible!"
Murdoch's eyes widened in shock.
That reaction was completely justified.
Look at American Idol.
The show raked in $1.8 billion in ad revenue per year.
That was way more than the $70 million Fox had paid for the licensing rights.
(P.S.: From 2002 to 2016, American Idol brought Fox over $23 billion—with ad revenue making up the majority.)
Murdoch took a deep breath. "Alright, Martin. I'll give you $100 million for the rights. That's already a very generous offer."
Martin shook his head. "No, Rupert, that's not generous enough. I know this show will surpass American Idol. $100 million is too little."
Murdoch countered, "That's just your opinion. It hasn't been proven. Sure, you've never failed before—but no one wins forever, Martin. This is reality TV, not film, not songwriting, not novels. You've never proven yourself in this field."
Despite being seventy years old, Murdoch still had the ferocity of a hyena—ruthlessly tearing into negotiations.
That was why they used to call him the Hyena of the Media World.
Martin nodded. "Fair point. So how about a performance-based contract?"
"A ratings-based contract. If the show performs, I get a cut."
Murdoch rejected it before Martin even finished speaking.
Martin frowned. "Why?"
"I don't like to gamble."
Martin almost laughed out loud.
This was the same man who bet his entire fortune on buying Fox.
He had even changed his nationality for business!
And now he was pretending he didn't like to gamble?
In reality, Murdoch was probably just scared—even if he wouldn't admit it.
He had good reason to be.
Murdoch had jumped on Martin's show faster than anyone else—which meant he already believed it would succeed.
Still, Martin pressed on. "How about $120 million?"
Murdoch sighed. "Alright, Martin. I'll increase my offer by another $20 million. $120 million—final offer."
Martin smirked. "Rupert, let's not kid ourselves. This show will be a goldmine. $120 million is still way too low."
Murdoch narrowed his eyes. "Alright, kid. What do you want?"
Martin stood up. "Since we're so far apart on price, let's table this discussion for now."
Murdoch quickly stopped him.
"...How about 10% of the ad revenue?"
Murdoch groaned. "Martin, who the hell negotiates ?"
Martin chuckled. "Rupert, why are you personally handling this negotiation? Shouldn't you be delegating?"
"No." Murdoch shook his head. "We should settle this today."
That was... surprisingly urgent.
He had the sudden urge to use his magic to probe Murdoch's mind.
But where was the fun in that?
Instead, he said, "Rupert, did you get word that someone else is interested in my show?"
Murdoch's expression stiffened.
He realized he had just given too much away.
Damn it. He wasn't as sharp as he used to be.
But his sons were useless, so he couldn't retire yet.
Taking a deep breath, Murdoch forced a smile.
"Martin, you really remind me of myself when I was younger. Fine. You win. 50% of ad revenue. Deal?"
Martin grinned. "Deal. We can sign the contract tomorrow. By the way, who else was interested?"
Martin wasn't surprised.
In the original timeline, NBC was the one that bought the rights to The Voice.
As the largest broadcast network in the U.S., NBC had over 200 affiliate stations.
And next year, it would merge with Universal's entertainment division, officially becoming NBC Universal.
Side note: Back in the 1960s, NBC had briefly invested in TVB, the Hong Kong-based broadcaster, but it was a minor stake, and they later pulled out.
Murdoch watched Martin closely.
He thought Martin was hesitating.
"Martin, I told you this because I'm not afraid of NBC stealing your show. They won't outbid me. Plus, their executives are all corporate suits. They can't make snap decisions like I can."
"I guarantee you—just deciding whether to buy your show will take them six months. And negotiating contract details? That'll drag on forever. They won't be as decisive as I am."
"Oh? Then why are you in such a hurry, Rupert?"
Murdoch sighed. "Because I don't like taking chances."
Martin had to give him credit.
The old man still had guts.
With the deal sealed, the party continued.
Murdoch and Martin had just walked into the main hall when a crowd immediately swarmed them.
Meanwhile, Drew was chatting with a blonde woman.
Recognized her instantly.
Like Drew, she was one of Spielberg's goddaughters.
They were on friendly terms.
Whatever they were talking about, it must have been funny—because Gwyneth was laughing so hard she was waving her arms, and Drew was practically doubled over.
"Yes, yes, I never expected to marry Chris either," Gwyneth was saying. "Love just happens when you least expect it. I really think he's the one."
"That was fast! Are you two planning a wedding?" Drew asked with a smile.
"We'll see. True love doesn't need a ceremony."
Then, Gwyneth gave Drew a knowing look.
"And you? You're still sharing Martin with all those other women?"
Drew burst out laughing.
"Like you said—true love doesn't need a ceremony!"