If you walk out of Apex Media to play live-in nurse to that washed-up recluse, you are dead to this family and blacklisted from Hollywood, my uncle Victor Cross told me five years ago.
The Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel buzzed with an electric energy. Limousines idled along the curb, their tinted windows reflecting the flashing cameras of the arriving press. Industry titans, their faces a familiar parade from trade magazines, moved through the grand lobby, shaking hands and exchanging air kisses. This was the nexus of power, the stage for Victor Cross’s ultimate coronation.
Inside the packed ballroom, the air crackled with anticipation. Giant screens flanked the stage, displaying Apex Media’s sleek new logo, subtly integrated with Summit Streaming’s branding. Victor, a triumphant smile already fixed on his face, stood backstage, flanked by his legal team and publicists, preparing for his moment. He was about to announce the $120,000,000 merger, the capstone of his career.
Maya and I slipped in through a side entrance, blending seamlessly into the throng of attendees. She wore a sharp, understated black dress, I a dark suit. We were just two more faces in the crowd, utterly anonymous.
Reporters jostled for position at the front, their notebooks and cameras ready. Damon Reyes, looking noticeably less jovial than when he’d cancelled our distribution deal, sat in the front row, a fixed, professional smile on his face. He was clearly trying to project confidence in the face of the SEC inquiry that had landed on his desk that morning.
“Are you sure about this, Leo?” Maya whispered, her eyes sweeping over the glittering, expectant audience. “There’s still time to just… walk away. Start over.”
I met her gaze. “No. Not anymore.”
I looked towards the stage, towards the unseen Victor, ready to claim his victory. The sense of an impending storm hung heavy in the opulent room. It was not a storm Victor could escape.
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