My office on Wilshire Boulevard had been designed to intimidate. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, a marble conference table that seated twelve, and enough awards lining the walls to remind everyone exactly who they were dealing with. At 9 AM sharp, it was about to serve its purpose.
Sarah bustled around the conference room, arranging water glasses and checking her phone every thirty seconds. She'd been doing that nervous energy dance since I'd called her at 6 AM to set up this emergency meeting.
"They're going to crucify us," she muttered, straightening a stack of press packets for the third time. "Paramount, Universal, and Warner Brothers all in one room? Elena, they're not here to negotiate. They're here to watch us burn."
I clicked my pen three times and adjusted my blazer. "They're here because they need us more than they want to admit."
"Alexander Kane mauled someone last night. There's blood on video. What exactly do we have to negotiate with?"
The elevator chimed in the lobby. Through the glass walls of the conference room, I could see three men in expensive suits stepping off. David Morrison from Paramount, looking like he'd swallowed something sour. James Chen from Universal, already checking his Rolex. And Michael Torres from Warner Brothers, who'd probably driven straight from his Pilates class.
"Everything," I said.
They filed into the conference room like pallbearers at a funeral. Morrison took the head chair without being invited, Chen sat to his right, and Torres positioned himself across from me with the kind of smile that never reached his eyes.
"Elena." Morrison's voice carried the weight of someone who'd made and broken more careers than he could count. "Beautiful morning, isn't it?"
"Gentlemen." I remained standing, keeping the power dynamic in my favor. "Thank you for coming on such short notice."
"Short notice." Chen laughed, but it sounded like grinding glass. "Your client put a photographer in the hospital twelve hours ago. The video's all over social media. Our insurance companies are having panic attacks."
Torres leaned back in his chair. "Kane's done, Elena. We all know it, you know it, he knows it. Question is whether you're going down with him."
Sarah shifted uncomfortably beside me, but I kept my expression neutral. These men had built their careers on reading fear, on knowing exactly when someone was about to break. They'd be disappointed today.
"Alexander Kane," I said, pulling out a remote and activating the wall-mounted screen, "has starred in seven films that have grossed over two billion dollars worldwide. He's the third highest-grossing action star of the last decade. His Q-rating among men 18-34 is higher than any actor in his generation."
Morrison waved dismissively. "Was, Elena. Past tense. That was before he went full psycho on live television."
"Alleged incident," I corrected. "No charges have been filed. The photographer has declined to make a formal statement. And the video everyone's talking about?" I clicked to the next slide, showing a series of blurry, inconclusive images. "Enhancement shows clear signs of digital manipulation."
Chen sat forward. "You're saying it's fake?"
"I'm saying perception is reality in this business. And perceptions can be managed."
Torres pulled out his phone and scrolled through something. "TMZ is running a story about Kane's eyes glowing. They've got zoomed-in footage, Elena. People are talking about contact lenses, special effects, but the bottom line is your client looks like something out of a horror movie."
I clicked to the next slide. A comprehensive media strategy flowchart, complete with timelines and targeted demographics. "Which brings us to opportunity."
"Opportunity?" Morrison's voice climbed an octave. "The man's career is over."
"The man's image needs repositioning." I began pacing around the table, noting how their eyes tracked my movement. "Horror movies are a four-billion-dollar industry. Supernatural thrillers are trending across all platforms. Netflix just greenlit twelve series based on supernatural themes."
Sarah was staring at me like I'd grown a second head. Even she hadn't seen this presentation before.
"You want us to rebrand Kane as a monster?" Chen asked.
"I want you to rebrand him as mysterious. Dangerous. Someone who doesn't play by normal rules." I clicked to a series of mock movie posters featuring Alex's face in shadow, his amber eyes prominent. "Method acting taken to the extreme. An actor so committed to his craft that the line between character and reality blurs."
Torres was studying the posters now, his business instincts clearly warring with his caution. "You're talking about leaning into the incident instead of away from it."
"I'm talking about controlling the narrative before someone else does." I pulled up a timeline on the screen. "In six months, Alexander Kane will be back on sets. Not as the clean-cut hero he used to play, but as something more complex. More profitable."
Morrison shook his head. "Elena, this is insane. The insurance alone—"
"Has already been handled. Kane is entering an intensive rehabilitation program. Medical supervision, behavioral therapy, the works." I clicked to a slide showing Dr. Martinez's credentials. "Dr. Martinez has successfully treated over two hundred cases of extreme method acting syndrome."
"Method acting syndrome?" Chen repeated.
"It's a recognized condition. Actors who become so immersed in roles that they struggle to separate reality from character. Robert De Niro spent months in therapy after Taxi Driver. Joaquin Phoenix needed intervention during and after Joker. The medical literature is extensive."
Sarah was looking at me with something approaching awe. I'd just created an entire psychological condition out of thin air, complete with famous case studies that sounded plausible enough to be real.
"You're saying Kane got too deep into a role?" Torres asked.
"I'm saying Kane pushed the boundaries of his craft to places other actors wouldn't dare go. The question is whether you want to work with that intensity or let your competitors have it."
I turned off the screen and moved back to my position at the head of the table. "Gentlemen, you came here expecting me to beg for mercy. Instead, I'm offering you the chance to get ahead of the biggest rebranding opportunity in Hollywood history."
Morrison was quiet for a long moment, staring at the blank screen where the mock posters had been. "What kind of timeline are we looking at?"
"Six months of rehabilitation. Carefully managed media appearances. Then a comeback film that positions Kane as Hollywood's most intense method actor." I sat down finally, meeting each of their gazes in turn. "Think about it. The man who literally becomes his characters. The actor who blurs the line between fiction and reality."
Chen pulled out his phone and started typing notes. "The insurance companies would need guarantees."
"Medical supervision throughout filming. Behavioral contracts. Whatever it takes to manage the risk."
Torres was nodding slowly. "It's crazy enough that it might work."
"It's crazy enough that it will work," I corrected. "The only question is whether you want to be part of Kane's comeback story or his epitaph."
Morrison stood up, straightening his tie. "We'll need to see this rehabilitation program in action. Medical reports, progress evaluations, the full transparency package."
"Of course."
"And Kane himself. We'll want to meet with him directly. See this famous intensity for ourselves."
"That can be arranged."
Chen was still typing on his phone. "Six months, Elena. If Kane so much as looks at someone wrong during that period—"
"He won't."
"How can you be so sure?" Torres asked.
I clicked my pen three times, letting the sound fill the silence. "Because I've never failed to rehabilitate a client. And I don't intend to start now."
The three executives exchanged glances, conducting an entire conversation without words. Finally, Morrison nodded.
"Six months," he said. "Complete transparency. Full medical supervision. And Elena?" He paused at the conference room door. "If this goes sideways, it's not just Kane who goes down. You understand that, right?"
"I understand perfectly."
They filed out as quietly as they'd arrived, leaving Sarah and me alone in the sudden silence of the conference room.
"Elena." Sarah's voice was barely above a whisper. "What the hell was that?"
"Crisis management."
"That wasn't crisis management. That was..." She gestured helplessly at the blank screen. "You convinced them to give Kane another chance after he put someone in the hospital. You made up an entire psychological condition and they bought it. You turned a career-ending scandal into a rebranding opportunity."
I began collecting the press packets from the table. "It's what we do, Sarah."
"No, it's what you do. I've never seen anything like that." Sarah was staring at me with a mixture of admiration and concern. "Elena, how did you know they'd go for it?"
"Because I know what they want before they do."
"But the medical stuff, the psychological condition, the famous case studies—did you research all that last night?"
I paused in my collection of papers. "Sarah, I've been preparing for difficult cases my entire career."
"Difficult cases, sure. But Kane isn't just difficult. He's..." She lowered her voice even though we were alone. "Elena, there's something not right about him. The way he moves, the way he looks at people. And last night, that video—"
"The video is gone."
"But I saw it before it disappeared. His eyes, Elena. They were actually glowing."
I turned to face her fully, noting the way she unconsciously stepped back when our eyes met. "Sarah, are you saying you believe in monsters?"
"I'm saying I believe something happened last night that doesn't fit into normal explanations."
Click, click, click went my pen against the marble table. "And you think I should have told Morrison, Chen, and Torres that my client might actually be supernatural?"
"I think..." Sarah faltered, then rallied. "I think you're more confident about handling Kane than anyone should be. It's like you know something the rest of us don't."
Before I could respond, my phone buzzed with a text message. I glanced at the screen and felt my pulse quicken.
Unknown number: Interesting presentation, Ms. Cross. We should talk. - M.C.
I looked up to find Sarah watching me closely. "Everything okay?"
"Fine." I slipped the phone into my blazer pocket. "Just Alexander, confirming our appointment tonight."
But it wasn't Alexander. The initials M.C. belonged to Marcus Chen, the Universal executive who'd just left my office. Except Marcus Chen's business card was sitting on my conference table, and it listed his first name as James.
Which meant someone else had been watching our meeting. Someone with access to my private number and enough authority to know exactly what had just happened in this room.
"Elena?" Sarah's voice seemed to come from very far away. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
I clicked my pen three times and forced a smile. "Just thinking about our next steps. Kane's rehabilitation starts tonight."
"And you're sure you can handle him?"
I thought about amber eyes that reflected their own light. About the way Alexander had tilted his head when he caught a scent I couldn't detect. About the silver watch that burned my wrist without making me flinch.
"Sarah," I said, "I was made for cases like this."
As she headed back to her office, I pulled out my phone and read the message again. M.C. Someone who knew about the meeting, who'd been watching, who felt comfortable contacting me directly.
I scrolled through my contacts until I found the number I was looking for. Dr. Martinez answered on the second ring.
"Elena. How did the meeting go?"
"Better than expected. But we may have attracted some unwanted attention."
"What kind of attention?"
I looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the city sprawling below. Somewhere out there, people with power and resources were taking notice of Alexander Kane. And of me.
"The kind that asks questions we're not ready to answer."
End of Chapter 3