That morning, Manhattan felt a little louder than usual.
Not because of traffic or the constant blare of car horns, but because of a single name that had begun appearing more and more frequently on the screens of anyone who followed the entertainment world.
Scarlett.
The name no longer stood as an attachment, no longer merely a footnote to a top-tier actor named Julian Caldwell. It stood on its own, whole, deliberate, steadily creating its own echo in the city that never slept.
