By the time Daniel managed to stop crying into luxury fabrics, the agency lobby had transformed into something between a festival, a battlefield, and a Black Friday riot.
Producers.
Directors.
Assistant directors.
Casting managers.
Hosts.
Interns holding signs.
All waiting.
All for the same woman.
Aria Lane.
Daniel stared at the scene with the numb horror of a man who had seen too much.
"…How did they even get INSIDE?" he whispered.
A receptionist in the corner raised a shaking hand.
"They… bribed security."
"With what?" Daniel demanded.
"Snacks."
Aria nodded approvingly.
"A good bargaining strategy."
Daniel turned to her sharply.
"DON'T ENCOURAGE THEM."
The Waiting Room of Madness
Every seat was occupied.
Every hallway was blocked.
Every person was clutching a script, a pitch deck, or a flash drive like their life depended on it.
A man in a suit spotted them entering.
"There! It's her! MISS LANE! Our team wants you for Escape Tower: Celebrity Edition! You climb a skyscraper blindfolded!"
Daniel stepped in front of Aria like a human shield.
"No skyscrapers!"
Another producer shoved forward.
"Miss Lane! We're casting for Gourmet Gladiator! You battle celebrity chefs while cooking under pressure—"
Aria murmured, "Interesting."
Daniel dragged her back by the arm.
"No cooking battles with knives!"
A woman in stylish glasses jumped in front of them next.
"Miss Lane, I'm offering you the lead role in a psychological thriller titled Saint of Shadows. We wrote a scene inspired by that elbow you did—"
Daniel snapped, "NO elbows!"
Aria: "But that's my brand."
Daniel: "NO, your brand is giving me hypertension."
They Swarm
Someone from a stunt show pushed through the crowd.
"Miss Lane! Warrior Arena needs a female lead who can handle live weapons!"
Daniel nearly screamed.
"NO LIVE WEAPONS!"
Another person shouted,
"Our zombie series is rebooting! We need you as the Season One boss!"
Daniel: "NO undead engagements!"
A cheerful intern waved a flyer.
"Miss Lane! Do you want to co-host a talk show called Two Snacks One Mic?"
Aria paused.
"That title speaks to me."
Daniel yanked the flyer away.
"IT DOES NOT SPEAK TO ANYONE.
The Meeting Room Disaster
They finally made it to the conference room—barely.
Inside sat twelve network executives who stood up simultaneously like students greeting a professor.
"Miss Lane," the head executive said with a reverent bow,
"T-thank you for meeting us. We're prepared to offer you ANY format you want. Anything at all."
Daniel's soul left his body.
"Don't say 'anything.' Don't—"
But it was too late.
The executive clasped his hands.
"Miss Lane, the entire entertainment division is yours to command."
Daniel slapped a hand over his face.
Aria took a seat, crossed one leg over the other, and said calmly:
"I want something simple."
The room leaned forward in anticipation.
"No stunts. No special effects. No survival missions. No romance rumors."
Executives exchanged excited looks.
A normal show! Finally!
Someone whispered, "We can put her in a sweet slice-of-life series—"
Aria continued:
"I want a cooking show."
Daniel's head hit the table.
The executives brightened.
"That's perfect! Casual! Relaxed! Viewers LOVE cooking!"
Aria nodded.
"With a twist."
They froze.
"…What twist?"
She folded her hands as if explaining a normal, reasonable idea.
"I cook.
Others try to sabotage me.
If they fail, I get to eat their food."
The room went silent.
Daniel muttered into the table,
"I hate my job. I hate food. I hate sabotage."
An executive whispered,
"…This could break every rating record we have."
Another whispered,
"It's genius."
A third, trembling with excitement, added:
"A competitive sabotage cooking show… starring the woman who fought zombies? This is television gold."
Aria smiled faintly.
"So. Do we have a deal?"
All twelve executives nearly flipped the table leaping to sign it.
Aftermath in the Hallway
As they left, reporters exploded with questions.
"MISS LANE, IS IT TRUE YOU'RE SIGNING FIVE PROJECTS?"
"WILL YOU BE DOING ACTION AGAIN?"
"WHAT ABOUT INTERNATIONAL OFFERS?"
"DO YOU PLAN TO REST?"
Aria raised a hand.
"No questions. I'm on my way to lunch."
The hallway parted like she was royalty passing through.
Daniel followed behind her, arms full of contracts, voice hoarse.
"Aria… you… you just greenlit a cooking war show."
She shrugged.
"It encourages creativity."
"It encourages CHAOS."
"That's creativity."
Daniel sank against the wall.
"I'm going to age out of Prada before the year ends."
Aria patted his shoulder.
"Adapt faster."
He made a small dying noise.