Leon knew the moment to exit was coming, and he needed to be decisive.
But he also remembered that before the bubble finally burst, the market—especially the Nasdaq 100 index, which represented the big tech stocks—would likely have one last, almost manic surge.
His plan was clear, broken into two steps:
Step one: On January 3, 2000—the very first trading day of the new millennium—he would immediately begin liquidating. As soon as the market opened, he'd sell off all his Qualcomm shares and every other overinflated tech stock he held, locking in massive profits from the rally.
He recalled that at the start of a new year, market optimism tended to carry over briefly, making it the perfect window to cash out individual risks and secure gains.
Step two: Almost simultaneously with selling, he would funnel nearly all of that cash into an ETF that tracked the Nasdaq 100.
His reasoning was simple: before the inevitable crash, the overall index still had one more strong push left in it. This way, he could maximize his final profits without missing out entirely on the last leg of the run.
It was essentially a tactical shift—from risky individual stocks to a broader market index—for one last sprint.
But it had to be carried out swiftly and without hesitation. Any delay could mean surrendering profits or missing that final surge.
---
Leon double-checked all his accounts and calculated the capital he'd have available after the January 3 sell-off.
The number made him smile.
Taking a deep breath on New Year's Eve, he picked up the phone and called his personal investment advisor.
When the call connected, Leon didn't waste time on pleasantries.
"It's me, Leon Donaldson. I have very specific instructions for my New Year investment strategy."
His tone was cool, clipped, and absolute.
"On January 3rd, Monday, right at market open:
First—sell every share of Qualcomm I own, and all the tech stocks listed on the sheet I gave you.
Second—take all proceeds from those sales and immediately buy into the Nasdaq 100 index fund. Every cent."
The advisor, already familiar with his client's sharp instincts and firm decisions, was still taken aback by the scale of this sudden repositioning on the very first trading day of the year.
"Mr. Donaldson, happy New Year. I understand liquidating your high-tech positions—you're locking in gains, managing risk.
But moving all of it straight into the Nasdaq 100? That's still very risky. You're still fully exposed to tech, just in index form.
Many analysts are bullish on early-year performance, yes, but they're also warning of volatility.
Have you considered holding some cash? Or allocating into safer assets?"
"No. Not at all." Leon's voice was unwavering, decisive, leaving no room for argument.
"My logic is different. Individual stocks are too volatile now, but the index still has one more clear, significant upswing left before the collapse.
Execute my instructions quickly and precisely. At market open on January 3, I want the sell-off and the reinvestment completed."
The advisor could feel the unusual conviction radiating through Leon's words. He knew once this client made up his mind, he wouldn't budge—and more often than not, Leon had proven right before.
"Understood, Mr. Donaldson. At the opening bell on January 3, I'll execute your orders. Sell Qualcomm and the listed tech stocks, then immediately move the funds into the Nasdaq 100 ETF."
When the call ended, Leon walked to his window. Outside, the Los Angeles night sky exploded with New Year's fireworks.
The millennium had officially begun.
Brilliant bursts of light reflected across his face.
He had just issued one of the most critical orders of his career.
It wasn't just a portfolio shift. It was a tactical maneuver rooted in clear foresight.
---
The bells of the new millennium were still echoing when Hollywood's machine kicked back into motion.
On January 5, The Princess Diaries officially began filming at the Disney lot in Burbank.
For Leon Donaldson, it meant a sudden shift in rhythm.
The night before, Anne Hathaway's parents had finally returned to New York after visiting family.
Freed from playing the obedient daughter in front of them—and perhaps overwhelmed with excitement for her upcoming "princess" life—Anne was in an unusually fiery, tireless mood.
Like a caged little beast suddenly set free, she attacked the night with greedy, daring intensity, as if trying to make up in advance for all the time they might miss together during months of filming.
Leon enjoyed the gift of her burning youth, but the next morning, as he looked at the dark circles under his eyes in the mirror, he couldn't help but chuckle wryly.
Sweet burdens, he thought, could be exhausting too.
But once he stepped onto The Princess Diaries set, all personal emotions had to vanish.
In an instant, his gaze sharpened—switching from Anne's secret boyfriend (at least in her eyes) back to the tough, exacting producer in control of it all.
---
His life quickly became rigorously scheduled:
Mornings handling emails and company affairs.
Late mornings to afternoons on set, monitoring progress, managing crises.
Evenings often spent in wrap-up meetings with director Garry Marshall or department heads.
The leisurely days of flitting between parties, flirting with supermodels and stars—that chapter was temporarily closed.
Luckily, Garry Marshall was every bit the seasoned master of family films.
On day one, with his trademark mix of boisterous energy and warm enthusiasm, he whipped the set into organized shape.
Rather than dive into heavy emotional scenes or complex crowd shots, he wisely chose easier, transitional scenes to ease the cast into character.
Marshall's booming voice echoed across the lot:
"Lighting! Softer, softer—I need glow, not interrogation lamps! This isn't a crime thriller, she's a princess!"
"Makeup! Anne's forehead is shining—dab some powder!"
"Extras! Yes, you! Relax! You're at a community event, not on death row! Talk, laugh—natural!"
It was noisy, but efficient, and Leon could relax a little, focusing more on the bigger picture and Disney execs.
---
That day's shoot featured Mia Thermopolis (Anne Hathaway) in her pre-princess high school life, where she blended into the background as "the invisible girl."
Leon stood by the monitor, arms folded, watching Anne prepare at the center of the set.
Then he burst out laughing.
The transformation was incredible.
Her signature silky hair had been turned into a frizzy bird's nest by the stylists.
She wore clunky black glasses that swallowed half her face.
Her outfit? A shapeless plaid shirt, oversized khakis, and big, awkward work boots.
It was a total disaster look—perfectly capturing the essence of a high school nobody—and the contrast with Anne's natural beauty made it hilarious.
Anne was trying to slump her shoulders and act insecure, when she caught Leon laughing.
She whipped her head up, spotted his grin, and flushed—not with embarrassment, but annoyance.
Stomping over, she smacked his arm with her script.
"Don't laugh, Leon Donaldson! I know I look awful!"
Her voice was low but sharp, her eyes brimming with both irritation and playful defiance.
Leon tried to smother his grin, raising his hands in surrender.
"Sorry, sorry—it's not bad, it's… it's too good! Garry, look at this—didn't the styling nail it perfectly?"
He tossed the line to Marshall, who stroked his chin, inspecting Anne with admiration.
"Perfect! Anne, remember this feeling. You are Mia. A girl who doesn't fit in, who wants to disappear. This look is our secret weapon!"
He turned to Leon.
"Right, Leon? Money well spent!"
Anne glared at the two men conspiring against her, stamping her foot. She knew it was necessary for the role, but still shot Leon a murderous glare before silently mouthing: "We'll settle this tonight."
Taking a deep breath, she returned to the spotlight, determined to embody the "ugly duckling."
Leon watched her from behind, his smile softening into something gentler—admiration.
He could see her discipline, her commitment.
The cameras rolled.
"Action!"