The transition from the gritty neon of Tokyo to the timeless elegance of Paris was seamless for the Jones Firm. While the production for The Silver Horizon set up its base at the Hôtel de Crillon, Anastasia remained the silent engine behind every move, her mind calculating the next move for their growing empire.
The Fortress Holds in L.A.The peace in Paris was interrupted by a late-night call from Sarah back in Los Angeles.
"Stasia, the sharks are circling," Sarah reported. "Michael Ovitz from CAA sent a car for Keanu this afternoon. He wanted a 'private sit-down' to discuss his future. They were ready to offer him a massive signing bonus to leave the Firm."
Anastasia's expression didn't change, but her forest-green eyes sharpened. "And? Did he take the car?"
"He didn't even come to the door," Sarah said, a note of triumph in her voice. "He told the driver that if Mr. Ovitz wanted to talk to him, he could call the Jones Firm. He stayed in his apartment and ran his lines. He told me, 'I already found the people who saw me when I was invisible. Why would I leave them now?'"
Anastasia allowed a small, satisfied smile to touch her lips. "Good. He's learning. Make sure his $50,000 signing advance is cleared."
The Breach in the Latin QuarterThe next afternoon, Anastasia felt a rare, restless urge to be anonymous. She slipped out of the Crillon through a side exit, wearing a simple trench coat and a low-brimmed hat, leaving the sisters and Cameron behind. She wanted to walk the streets of the Latin Quarter like a normal sixteen-year-old, just for an hour.
But the world had grown too small for the "Prodigy."
Near a small bookstore on the Boulevard Saint-Germain, a group of teenage girls stopped dead. The whispers started instantly. "C'est elle? Anastasia?"
Within minutes, the whispers turned into a crowd. The cameras—primitive but flash-heavy—began to click. Anastasia, usually so composed within her fortress, felt the walls of the city closing in. She ducked into a nearby bistro and bolted for the back, locking herself in the cramped, dimly lit public bathroom.
Outside the door, she could hear the muffled excitement of the crowd growing. She was trapped.
The Rescue CallHer hands were steady as she pulled out her mobile unit and dialed the private line.
"Cam," Anastasia whispered when the call connected. "I'm at a bistro on Saint-Germain. I'm pinned down. There's a crowd... I can't get to the street."
"You did what?" Cameron's voice was a mix of sheer panic and immediate protective fury. "Don't move. Don't open the door for anyone. I'm coming."
The ExtractionTwenty minutes later, the screech of tires echoed through the narrow street. Cameron didn't wait for a driver; she had grabbed the keys to the dark-blue Mercedes rental and torn through Paris traffic herself.
She burst into the bistro, her height and the sheer, radiant power of her "Icon" presence forcing the crowd to part in stunned silence. She didn't sign autographs. She didn't smile. She marched straight to the back, her boots clicking sharply on the tile.
"Anastasia! Open up," Cameron commanded.
The door creaked open. Anastasia stepped out, looking smaller than usual in the harsh fluorescent light. Cameron didn't say a word; she grabbed Anastasia's hand and pulled her toward the exit, using her own body as a physical shield against the lenses.
As soon as they reached the car, Cameron shoved Anastasia into the passenger seat and floored it, the Mercedes roaring away from the curb.
The ScoldingThe silence in the car was heavy, broken only by the sound of Cameron's jagged breathing. She turned a sharp corner, her knuckles white on the steering wheel.
"Are you insane?" Cameron finally exploded, her voice trembling with the "burn" of pure terror. "You went out alone? In Paris? Do you have any idea what could have happened if that crowd had turned? You are sixteen years old, Anastasia! You are the brain of this entire operation, but sometimes you act like you're invisible!"
She pulled the car over into a quiet side street and slammed it into park. Before Anastasia could answer, Cameron reached across the console and pulled her into a fierce, crushing hug. She buried her face in Anastasia's hair, her heart hammering against Anastasia's ribs.
"Don't ever do that to me again," Cameron choked out, the jealousy of the world's attention turning into a desperate need to keep her safe. "The fortress only works if you're inside it. With me."
The Digital Empire ContinuesAnastasia leaned into the hug, letting the warmth of Cameron's protection settle her nerves. "I'm sorry, Cam. I just wanted to see if I still could."
"You can't," Cameron snapped, pulling back but keeping her hands on Anastasia's shoulders, her blue eyes fierce. "You're not just a girl anymore. You're the Firm."
That evening, back in the safety of the Crillon "War Room," the adrenaline faded into cold business. Anastasia and Sarah finalized the move of the $2.7 million into their core positions.
Apple (AAPL): Position increased.
Oracle: Shares secured.
The Jones Firm was now a multi-million dollar force, safer than ever behind the walls of the hotel. Anastasia looked at Cameron, who was still hovering nearby, refusing to let her out of sight. The world outside was loud and dangerous, but inside the circle, the power was absolute.