Lily had no intention of underestimating her sister badly enough to make that mistake twice.
She folded her hands neatly atop the table.
Sothing thing bothered Lily more; a detail her mind kept circling with disciplined persistence. After all she was soone who disliked unresolved variables and that thing was Stan’s composure.
Age she could account for. Wealth could eventually be traced with sufficient research.
Industry knowledge could be explained away through preparation, intelligence, or access to exceptional advisors.
But composure was different. That was harder.
She had experience, she’ve spent twelve years in rooms like this.
Rooms full of people far more powerful than they initially appeared...
Rooms where the real negotiations happened in the three seconds of eye contact before anyone spoke.
Rooms where even experienced executives eventually betrayed themselves through so microscopic fracture in their control.
Stan Harrison had shown none of it. Not in the arrival corridor. Not during their conversation.
Not now, seated comfortably among the upper ranks of the entertainnt industry at an age when most people from his supposed background were still struggling to secure their first aningful foothold.
’He moved through these environnts the way people moved through places that already belonged to them.’ Lily realized.
But that shouldn’t be possible. Not at his age. Not with that background. Unless the background itself is wrong.
She lifted her pen and drew a faint line beside the first item on her program.
The host was about to begin. She had work to do.
The Stan Harrison problem could wait until Daniel uncovered sothing concrete.
But it would not wait long. The arena lights dimd.
A single spotlight swept across the stage.
The host, a veteran industry figure with the effortless authority of soone who had moderated events like this for years, stepped toward the microphone and opened the evening with polished precision, welcoming the audience while reminding everyone present exactly why they were here and what was at stake.
The introductions were brief. The atmosphere was not.
Every executive in the arena understood the reality of nights like this.
Careers could begin here. Contracts could shift here. Entire bidding wars could quietly ignite before the event even ended.
The host smiled toward the audience.
"And now," he said smoothly, "our first perforr of the evening."
The ambient noise in the arena vanished completely.
A young actor stepped into the spotlight.
Vivian had been quiet since taking her seat.
Not withdrawn, she continued following the performances carefully, occasionally writing concise shorthand notes along the margins of her program, but the warmth that had slowly begun returning to her over the past week had compressed itself into sothing sharper.
Focus. Stan noticed. He allowed it. After all, he knew that despite Lily publicly talking shit about her younger sister, Vivian had still managed to earn this position through sheer effort after obtaining it through despicable ans. From what he had seen since cautioning her earlier, she genuinely worked hard and handled every responsibility expected of her without complaint.
He glanced at her again.
Vivian was quietly taking notes, and he casually skimd through what she had written. She had carefully recorded every important detail about the young actors, the kind of information that could help Star Entertainnt acquire promising talents before rival companies made their move.
For soone who had secured her position through family connections, one would have expected her to know little about the actual work. Yet she was surprisingly competent, capable enough that she would not lose out even against experienced managers.
That was, of course, as long as she maintained this serious attitude and did not dare beco lazy like before.
anwhile, the first perforr finished to strong applause.
The second displayed obvious technical training but lacked the presence necessary to command the room.
The third altered the atmosphere the mont he stepped onto the stage.
He carried an unusual stillness around him, the kind that could not be taught, rehearsed, or manufactured through training. It was instinctive. Natural. The entire venue seed to register his presence on a subconscious level. Even the roaming stage caras appeared to drift toward him without their operators realizing it, lingering on him longer than necessary as though drawn by sothing difficult to explain.
He was not conventionally charismatic in the bright, approachable way idols usually were. His appeal was darker, quieter, the sort that made people keep watching even when he said nothing at all.
The kind of presence suited for psychologically dangerous characters.
Serial killers with controlled smiles. Cold antiheroes willing to cross lines others feared. Vigilantes who operated in the shadows. n burdened by violence, restraint, and buried rage. The type of roles audiences found unsettling yet impossible to look away from.
Characters similar to Dexter, Batman, Daredevil, or Wolverine would fit him naturally.
Even Stan, soone who admittedly lacked the technical expertise for talent scouting, could imdiately see the potential surrounding the young man. So people possessed faces suitable for entertainnt.
Others possessed presence.
And presence, when properly cultivated, could beco sothing far more valuable.
"Hmm." Stan’s attention settled more fully on the stage.
The actor was midway through a contemporary monologue, emotionally layered material that revealed instinct far more effectively than polished technique ever could. He wasn’t the most technically refined perforr of the night.
But there was sothing grounded about him.
Sothing honest. Suddenly, the lack of polish felt almost irrelevant.
Stan watched in silence until the monologue concluded.
"Background?" he asked quietly.
Vivian checked her tablet.
"Twenty-two. No professional credits. Three years of independent theater. Ca through a regional arts program."
Stan nodded once.
At the Netflix table, Lily’s pen moved across the page.
Beside her, Daniel was already typing.
At the HBO section, two executives leaned toward each other in low conversation.
Stan turned slightly toward the senior acquisitions coordinator seated near Vivian.
"What does first contact usually look like from our side?"
The coordinator glanced at him, then briefly at Vivian, the subtle recalibration of soone recognizing that the question was genuine and that the person asking it possessed real authority.
"Post-show introduction," she answered. "Then a formal invitation to a developnt eting within forty-eight hours."
"And Netflix?"
"Usually the sa window. Sotis faster."
Stan looked back toward the stage.
"Then we move first," he said simply. "Tonight. Not tomorrow."
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