The television in the penthouse kitchen was on low volume. Cynthia Sharpe was seated on a plush sofa on *The Morning Show*, looking every inch the “Exploiter” she had become.
“We all grieve in different ways,” Cynthia said with a patronizing smile. “Some people build boring, empty museums that no one will ever visit. That’s fine for them. But at *The Luna Search*, we are building a living legacy. We are finding a star who has the fire Victoria Vance had, not just the dust.”
She looked directly into the camera, her eyes challenging. “We invited William Croft to join our judges’ panel, to give his blessing. He declined. It seems he prefers silence to music.”
In the kitchen, William chopped vegetables with violent precision. He heard every word. Cynthia wanted a war; she wanted him to lash out so she could paint him as unstable for her reality show narrative.
He scraped the vegetables into the pan. “Let her talk,” William murmured to the empty room. “Lions don’t lose sleep over the opinions of sheep.”