The media lost its damn mind.
"YOU'LL NEVER GUESS THIS: Annie Jones and Joey Grant are the SAME PERSON!"
"Annie Jones could've picked ANY pseudonym… why the hell did it have to be that train-wreck Joey?"
For a solid month, if Joey wasn't the headline, she was at least somewhere on the front page. Hollywood couldn't shut up about it.
Most outlets went straight to skepticism.
They'd spent years hyping "Annie Jones the mysterious genius," and now that the mask was off, the tone flipped overnight. Was this just another flash-in-the-pan from Joey Grant? Or did the girl actually still have some talent left, and now that the Paramount prince had dumped her, she was finally getting serious again so she could cash out and go right back to partying?
A lot of people just decided to grab popcorn and watch.
Variety, the Bible of the industry, obviously wasn't going to miss the party. They ran a huge spread full of quotes from insiders and critics.
"Nobody knows why the fallen Joey Grant suddenly morphed into the breakout supernova Annie Jones. If this is real, all we can say is Joey Grant isn't washed up yet. She's still got superhuman talent. The question is: what happens next? Does she keep pushing, or does she vanish again and go right back to drowning in the Hollywood party scene?"
"Another possibility: Joey Grant finally woke up. Getting her heart broken forced her back on the right path. But how much of that talent did she burn through in the meantime? Is Juno her last miracle… or the start of a whole string of them?"
Of course, plenty of outlets stuck to their usual playbook: if Joey's name is in it, trash it.
"We don't buy that someone this far gone can just flip a switch and turn their life around. We definitely don't buy that the same director who churned out one bomb after another still had a Juno in her."
"She only did this because the rich guy dumped her and she needs new bait for the next sugar daddy. Juno is just her audition tape for the next billionaire."
Some people even spun it as straight-up revenge on Hughes Redstone.
"She just wants Hughes to regret tossing her aside. Never underestimate what a pissed-off woman can do. Clearly she's got nothing left to lose."
No matter what they said, Joey was tougher this time. She didn't care.
All she had to do was let the work speak. Yeah, the same "fallen Joey" they kept burying just delivered the biggest sleeper hit of the year. Whatever they wanted to think after that was on them.
Because she was about to shove a whole lot more success down their throats until they choked on the doubts.
While Hollywood argued and gawked, Joey kept moving.
Juno cleaned up at every major indie film festival (awards left and right, total domination).
She bounced from one festival to the next, arms full of trophies.
Every person who'd ever known her, given up on her, or stabbed her in the back; none of them saw this coming. Joey Grant, back in the spotlight, darling of the circuit again.
They were shocked. Good. She didn't need their regret. She just wanted them to keep watching while she racked up bigger wins, higher honors, and chased even crazier dreams.
One night she was at the biggest one of all: the Independent Spirit Awards (basically the Oscars for the little guys).
At the after-party, for the first time in years, people were finally looking at her for the right reasons: the work, the wins, the art. Not the tabloid garbage.
After smiling through a million handshakes and "we should do something together" pitches, she slipped away to a quiet balcony for a breather.
She didn't notice the pair of eyes that had been tracking her the whole night.
From a darker balcony farther down, a guy in a black tux leaned against the railing, swirling a brandy, a faint, amused smile on his face.
Hughes's gaze landed on Joey's bare shoulder and he frowned for half a second.
He really hadn't expected the surprise gift she'd handed him this year: Juno.
What the hell was this supposed to be?
He knew damn well it wasn't the revenge story the tabloids were peddling (like he'd dumped her, she got mad, and banged out a masterpiece to spite him).
Joey Grant? Please. Other people might buy that, but he knew her. That girl's brain didn't have room for complicated revenge plots.
The corner of his mouth curled (that cocky, devil-may-care grin that still turned heads). Truth was, he was happy. Happy to see a Joey who was finally fighting again, talent firing on all cylinders.
A classy older woman in an evening gown walked up beside him: his aunt Sylvia.
She followed his line of sight and smirked. "You're still into that girl."
He set his glass on the railing, hands in his pockets, and gave her the most casual smile in the world. "Sylvia, you're seeing things. And even if I was, Mom's never gonna hear about it from me."
Sylvia just smiled that mysterious rich-aunt smile. "Then why'd you break up with her, huh? My nephew's thought process is always such a puzzle."
"If it's such a puzzle, stop trying to solve it. You'll just give yourself a headache." He laughed, light mockery in his voice. "Since when do you gossip like the rest of the hens at these parties? You've spent your whole life protecting the Redstone family image."
Sylvia fake-coughed and shot him a look. "Comparing me to those vulgar women? Really?"
"Vulgar?" Hughes's grin got bigger, shameless. "Those women have champagne in their veins. You? Straight tap water. Who's the noble one here?"
Sylvia rolled her eyes. She was used to her nephew's zero-filter, zero-fear attitude. He lived in his own world and loved it.
She changed the subject. "Fine. She's talented; I'll give her that. I'm honest, unlike your mother."
Hughes flicked his lighter on and off, bored but amused. "I knew that seven years ago. And trust me, that's just the tip of the iceberg. She's got way bigger surprises coming."
Sylvia raised an eyebrow. "You're looking forward to more surprises from her? You're that sure she'll deliver?"
He shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Of course."
Nobody on the planet understood Joey Grant better than he did: her talent, her limits, her stubborn streak, all of it.
How far she'd go? That was up to her.
But he still remembered that teenage girl seven years ago, screaming her dreams into the night like the world owed her something.
In that moment he'd actually wanted to help make those dreams real, because she had the one thing he'd never have: insane, reckless drive.
He wished he could be that guy (obsessed, hungry, chasing something). Too bad he was born lazy and born rich; no fire ever got lit under him.
Then she changed. Started coasting, no ambition, no hunger. And yeah, part of that was on him. He'd made everything too easy, handed her every shortcut on a silver platter. She got comfortable. Dependent. She lost herself.
He knew the only way to wake her up was to rip the safety net away. Push her into a corner with nothing left. Force her to fight or fade.
He could lose her. But he couldn't let Joey lose Joey.
Without movies, she wouldn't shine. And one day she'd wake up at fifty, look back, and hate herself for throwing it all away.
So he gave her five years.
He wasn't going to let future-Joey regret wasting her life.
He'd rather let her go now and watch her become the badass she was born to be than keep her comfortable and watch her flame out.
Yeah, he still had feelings for her (always would). But this was bigger than that.
He was betting on the version of Joey who was independent, relentless, and wide awake.
So far, she hadn't let him down.
She was awake. Juno was proof. She was back on the stage where she belonged.
Maybe, just maybe, an even brighter Joey Grant was about to light up Hollywood.
He'd given her five years to find herself again.
In five years, he'd reel her back in.
Because he was damn sure no one else out there was ever going to be right for her.
And deep down, she knew it too.