By noon, the tone had changed.
It always did.
The first wave was nostalgia—clips, edits, fond recollections framed like comfort food. The second was curiosity. The third was calculation.
By the fourth, the industry had woken up.
Studios paused announcements. Schedules were quietly adjusted. Meetings were called "just to check something."
Aria watched none of it directly.
She sat at a long table in a glass-walled conference room, sunlight slicing clean lines across polished wood. Across from her sat two agents who had not existed in her world before yesterday.
They smiled too quickly.
"We see this as a repositioning opportunity," one said. "Your return changes the landscape."
"Landscapes don't change themselves," Aria replied. "People do."
The other agent nodded, eager. "Exactly. And people respond to momentum. Right now, you are momentum."
She folded her hands. "Momentum without direction crashes."
A beat.
They adjusted.
"We're talking premium projects," the first continued. "Selective appearances. You don't need volume—just impact."
"And who decides impact?" she asked.
They exchanged a glance.
"Well," the second said, "market response. Data. Strategic alignment."
Aria smiled—small, precise. "So not me."
Another beat.
Outside the room, assistants whispered. Names were passed like currency. A producer who hadn't returned calls in years suddenly "had availability."
The industry didn't ask if she was ready.
It asked how fast it could move her.
---
Later, in the elevator, Noah scrolled through updates.
"A-list director just delayed a project," he said. "Waiting to see what you do."
"That's a mistake," Aria replied.
"Why?"
"Waiting is how you miss things."
The doors opened onto the street. Cameras were already there—long lenses pretending not to stare.
She didn't flinch.
Inside a car idling across the way, someone lowered binoculars.
Not press.
Different posture. Different patience.
Aria noticed.
She always did.
---
That night, the trades published their headlines.
A Power Vacuum Reopens.
An Unexpected Variable Returns.
The Industry Recalculates.
In a private channel far from red carpets and contracts, a message pinged.
Subject: Asset Status Update
Status: Active
Risk Level: Under Review
No name attached.
No signature.
Aria's phone vibrated once, then went still.
She looked at the city lights and felt the shift—not loud, not dramatic.
Structural.
The industry had adjusted its weight.
And somewhere beneath it, something older had begun to move.