Within two hours of the live broadcast, the news had rocketed across every major network and entertainment site. Apex Studios, scrambling to control the narrative, released a formal public statement.
Julian Kross was immediately dropped from the Apex Studios franchise. All contracts with V-Kross Enterprises were terminated with prejudice. The statement ended with an apology to Leo DeLuca and a promise of full cooperation with authorities.
Veronica Kross, her face a mask of bitter fury, and Julian, still appearing in a daze, were escorted off the lot by studio security. News vans swarmed the gates, and the phrase “grand larceny investigations” echoed from every reporter’s microphone.
My frozen bank accounts were fully released, the fraudulent liens vaporizing as swiftly as they had appeared. Maya received a call from a high-level Apex executive, confirming that the $180,000 endorsement escrow was also immediately available.
Later that evening, on the now-empty stage of the auditorium, Marcus Oakridge, looking pale and thoroughly chastened, presented me with my original, unamended $12.5 million contract. It even included a clause for total creative freedom, a concession he would never have offered before.
“Leo,” Oakridge said, his voice unusually subdued. “Apex Studios deeply regrets the—” He paused, searching for the right word, “—misunderstandings. We value your talent.”
I took the contract, the paper feeling heavy in my hands. The ink was still fresh. It was everything I had fought for, everything my father had believed in.
Maya embraced me on the empty stage, her arms tight around my shoulders. “We did it, Leo,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
Crew members moved around us, clearing away microphones and lights, restoring order to the space where chaos had just erupted. The fight was over. For now.
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