Home Chưa phân loại Prince Harry And Meghan Live: Sussexes Warned Over Problem ‘Repeating’ As Dream At Risk

Prince Harry And Meghan Live: Sussexes Warned Over Problem ‘Repeating’ As Dream At Risk

Chưa phân loại · 22/06/2024 · Comments off

Prince Harry And Meghan Live: Sussexes Warned Over Problem ‘Repeating’ As Dream At Risk

The Sussexes’ five-year deal with Netflix, set for renewal next year, could be axed in a devastating blow to Prince Harry and Meghan Markle’s future.

Britain's Prince Harry Delivers An Address At The U.N. General Assembly

Netflix ‘expected more’ from Prince Harry and Meghan Markle, it’s been claimed (Image: Getty)

Prince Harry and Meghan Markle risk making “a repeat of the problem” they had with Spotify amid reports their multimillion-dollar Netflix deal is in jeopardy, a royal expert claims. It’s been speculated that the Sussexes’ five-year deal with the streaming giant, set for renewal next year, could be axed, and royal author Tom Quinn says he believes it would be a huge blow for the couple.

“Harry and Meghan are on the brink of losing their multi-million-dollar Netflix contract for the simple reason that Netflix expected a great deal more from the couple,” he told The Mirror.

The Duke and Duchess’ contract with music and podcast hub Spotify was previously axed early due to a lack of projects, and Quinn says the couple are keen to avoid a similar outcome. The royal commentator added: “It’s very likely to be a repeat of the problem with the couple’s Spotify contract which came to an abrupt end in 2023 after Harry and Meghan failed, according to a Spotify spokesperson, to meet ‘productivity benchmarks.”

Despite the speculation, the royal couple are currently working on new content for Netflix. Meghan has reportedly joined forces with the streaming giant for a cookery and lifestyle show based on American Riviera Orchard, her new brand.

Harry, meanwhile, is currently producing a new documentary about the world of international polo. A representative for the Sussexes has been approached for comment.

 

Mr Bang

Related Posts

Chưa phân loại

The Confession of a Lifetime: The Charles Manson Shadow, Hidden Heartbreak, and the Untold Maternal Sacrifice That Defined Angela Lansbury

· 10/11/2025 · Comments off

The Confession of a Lifetime: The Charles Manson Shadow, Hidden Heartbreak, and the Untold Maternal Sacrifice That Defined Angela Lansbury When the world mourned the passing of…

Chưa phân loại

There are fires that burn you and fires that forge you. For one pilot, the ghost of a falling sky was a memory she couldn’t outrun, until she heard a whisper from the flames, telling her to turn back and face the silence.

· 10/11/2025 · Comments off

You learn to live with ghosts. Mine smells like jet fuel and burned plastic. Ten years ago, I walked out of a helicopter wreck over Syria with…

Chưa phân loại

Wife Was Humiliated By Millionaire Husband — Her Family Appeared Owning The Entire Business Chain

· 10/11/2025 · Comments off

A glass of champagne shatters on the marble floor. In a ballroom dripping with diamonds and ambition, Ella Thorne stands frozen. Her hot couture gown ripped at…

Chưa phân loại

It was supposed to be just another night, a quiet dinner, an anonymous table, and a simple steak that would remind him of the days when life wasn’t made of marble walls and golden ceilings. But as Aaron Vale sat alone in the dimly lit corner of a small town restaurant, dressed in a plain jacket instead of a thousand suit, he didn’t know his entire life was about to change.

· 10/11/2025 · Comments off

It was supposed to be just another night, a quiet dinner, an anonymous table, and a simple steak that would remind him of the days when life…

Chưa phân loại

My Father Threw Me Out Pregnant at 19. His Voice Was Ice: “You Made Your Bed—Now Lie in It.” For Twenty Years, I Fought Alone, Raised My Daughter in Poverty, and Built a Life From Absolute Ash. When My Family Finally Came Looking For Me, Expecting a Broken Woman They Could Pity, They Were Stopped Cold at the Gate. My Aide Looked at Them and Asked the One Question That Froze Their Blood: “Are you here to see General Morgan?”

· 10/11/2025 · Comments off

My name is Morgan, and twenty years ago my father looked me in the eye and said, “You made your bed. Now lie in it.” Those words…

Chưa phân loại

“SOMEONE GET THIS A CHAIR,” he sneered, mocking my prosthetic legs in front of his entire class. “The last thing we need is her breaking a hip.” He thought I was a broken-down contractor, a “liability.” He didn’t know he was talking to ‘Nyx’. He didn’t know I was about to set a new facility record. His. The hum was the first thing I noticed. It wasn’t a sound. It was a vibration, a low, steady thrum of power that traveled up from the polished concrete floor and into the sensitive receptors of my prosthetics. I wasn’t just standing on the observation deck; I was interfaced with it. I could feel the thrum of the “Crucible” below us, the massive combat simulation facility, sleeping and waiting for its next meal. The air smelled of industrial disinfectant, ozone from the holographic displays, and something else… a faint, coppery tang of nervous sweat. It was coming from the cadets, a nervous assembly of the academy’s best, all standing in a rigid, uncomfortable semi-circle. They were the future. And they were terrified. Not of the test. Of him. “Someone get this a chair.” The words landed like a wet slap in the quiet room. “The last thing we need is her breaking a hip trying to teach real soldiers how to fight.” That was Sergeant First Class Evans. Barrel-chested, booming-voiced, and smelling faintly of cheap aftershave and an over-inflated ego. He was the gatekeeper, the very picture of institutional arrogance, a man who believed the volume of his voice directly correlated to the value of his opinion. The cadets rippled with that awful, nervous laughter. The kind that seeks permission. The kind that begs to be included in the circle of power, even when the circle is drawn with casual cruelty. He was talking about me. I didn’t turn. I didn’t flinch. My fingers kept moving across the holographic interface, a liquid economy of motion. I was calibrating the opposing force (OpFor) protocols. To him, I was a broken contractor, a “liability.” My legs—the matte black carbon fiber that started just below my knees—were, in his eyes, a mark of failure. Proof that I “couldn’t hack it.” He saw a broken woman. He saw a data analyst. He saw a diversity hire. He didn’t see the weapon. I kept my gaze fixed on the diagnostic screen. He was just noise. A predictable variable in a complex system. But the noise was persistent. “I mean, look at her,” he continued, pacing behind me, a predator marking his territory for his cubs. “With all due respect… ma’am…” He spat the word “ma’am” like it was an insult, a thing he was forced to say. “This is the sharp end. We are training war fighters here. They need to learn from men who’ve been there, done that. Not from someone who… well…” He let the silence hang, and it was thick with his meaning. Not from someone who got broken and sent home. The cadets shifted. They were young. They believed in muscle and shouting. Evans was their god. I was an anomaly. A ghost in the machine. In the shadowed corner of the room, another man stood. Colonel Davies. He was the real power, but he was silent. He wasn’t watching Evans. He was watching me. I felt his gaze. It wasn’t the judging, dismissive look of the sergeant. It was analytical. He wasn’t looking at my legs; he was looking at my stance. He saw the perfect, unconscious distribution of weight. He saw the stillness in my hands. Davies saw what Evans couldn’t. He saw a weapon that hadn’t been broken, but had been reforged. He had read my file. Or at least, the parts they hadn’t blacked out. He knew. A soft chime from the console. The system was calibrated. I tapped a final sequence, my movements precise, economical. This absolute lack of engagement—my refusal to even look at him—was, I knew, infuriating. It was a statement of confidence so profound it needed no words. It told him, and his cadets, that his opinion was an irrelevant variable. He took it as a challenge. “You see, cadets,” he announced, his voice bouncing off the thick observation glass. “Combat is a physical reality. It’s about muscle memory! Endurance! The ability to push your body past its limits! It’s about carrying your brother on your back when he’s hit!” With every sentence, he glanced at me. At my legs. He was painting a picture of a warrior and deliberately, meticulously, drawing me out of it. The cadets nodded. This, they understood. “The OpFor… the simulated enemy…” Evans continued, “is usually run by a junior instructor. A simple task.” He waved a dismissive hand at my console. “We’ll let our guest contractor run the targets from here. Should be simple enough for you to handle, ma’am.” He smirked at the cadets. “Just try not to trip over any cables.” The snickering returned. I simply slid a cooling sleeve over the primary actuator on my left prosthetic…. Read full in below 👇

· 10/11/2025 · Comments off

{“aigc_info”:{“aigc_label_type”:0,”source_info”:”dreamina”},”data”:{“os”:”web”,”product”:”dreamina”,”exportType”:”generation”,”pictureId”:”0″},”trace_info”:{“originItemId”:”7568515780455697672″}} The hum was the first thing I noticed. It wasn’t a sound. It was a vibration, a low, steady thrum of power that traveled up from…