Miranda didn't announce herself.
She never did when she knew she was already expected.
Adrian was seated behind his desk at Cross Entertainment, jacket off, sleeves rolled just enough to signal work rather than comfort. A tablet lay in front of him, paused on a muted financial report. He didn't look up when the door closed.
"You're late," he said.
"I was productive," Miranda replied calmly. "Unlike whoever leaked Milan's intake activity."
That earned his attention.
He lifted his gaze slowly, eyes sharp, assessing. Miranda stood where she always did — hands relaxed at her sides, posture immaculate, expression unreadable. She wasn't intimidated. She never pretended to be.
"Sit," Adrian said.
She didn't.
"You asked for this meeting," she said instead. "I won't waste it pretending we're discussing logistics."
A faint, humorless smile touched his mouth. "Then don't."
Miranda stepped closer, placing a slim folder on his desk. "Evelyn Hart is officially on Milan's intake floor. Quiet onboarding. No press release. No formal announcement."
"I know," Adrian said flatly.
"Then you also know," she continued, "that three agencies have already started reshuffling schedules. Two brands postponed contract renewals this morning. They haven't said why."
"They won't," he replied. "They never do."
Miranda folded her arms. "This isn't coincidence. Milan is positioning her."
"That assumes she matters," Adrian said.
Miranda met his gaze evenly. "She does. Not because she's exceptional yet — but because she left."
Silence stretched between them.
Adrian leaned back in his chair. "You're implying symbolism."
"I'm implying narrative," Miranda corrected. "You taught me that."
He exhaled slowly through his nose. "I didn't lose her. She made a choice."
"And choices," Miranda said, "become stories when power is involved."
Adrian stood, moving toward the window overlooking the city. Cross Entertainment dominated that skyline — not physically, but financially. Influence didn't need height.
"She was managed," he said. "Protected. Elevated. She walked away from that."
"She walked away from control," Miranda replied carefully.
He turned sharply. "Watch your wording."
Miranda didn't flinch. "I always do."
They held each other's gaze — not adversaries, not allies. Strategists.
"She's untested," Adrian said. "Milan doesn't build legends. They burn them fast."
"Usually," Miranda agreed. "But they don't recruit quietly unless they intend to invest."
He returned to his desk, tapping the folder once without opening it. "So what's your recommendation?"
"Nothing public," she said immediately. "No reaction. No counter-move. Let Milan think they're unobserved."
"And privately?"
Miranda hesitated — just a fraction.
"Begin contingency modeling. Media sentiment. Contract leverage. Talent loyalty. We don't attack her."
Adrian raised an eyebrow. "We?"
"We protect the brand," she said evenly. "If she rises, it reflects. If she stumbles, distance matters."
He studied her for a long moment.
"You're being cautious," he said.
"I'm being precise."
A pause.
Then Adrian smiled — slow, cold, satisfied.
"Good," he said. "Because caution looks like weakness when it's noticed."
He picked up his phone, scrolling once before locking the screen again. "Milan made their move."
Miranda straightened. "And Cross?"
He met her eyes. "Cross doesn't move yet."
She nodded once. "Understood."
As she turned to leave, Adrian added, "Miranda."
She stopped.
"If Evelyn Hart proves exceptional," he said, voice calm, controlled, dangerous, "I want to know before the world does."
Miranda inclined her head slightly. "You always do."
The door closed behind her.
Adrian returned to the window, gaze fixed on the city.
Across the city
Talia didn't make the call immediately.
She finished her coffee first. Let the noise of the floor settle. Let the excitement thin out into routine. Only when the day slipped back into something predictable did she step into the quiet corner near the service corridor and pull out her phone.
The number wasn't saved.
It never was.
The call rang longer this time.
"Speak," a voice said at last—low, unhurried, already in control of the conversation.
"She's in," Talia said. "Paperwork done. No delays."
A pause, then a faint exhale on the other end. "That was expected."
"Yes," Talia replied, "but expectation and impact are different things."
"That sounds like you've noticed something."
"I've noticed movement," she said. "The kind that doesn't announce itself. People adjusting without being told to."
Silence followed—not empty, but listening.
"You're talking about the intake level," the man said.
"I am."
"And the new batch?"
"Among others."
Another pause. "Is this about her?"
Talia tilted her head slightly, considering. "It would be lazy to make it about one person. Newcomers always arrive thinking the system will adapt to them. Most learn otherwise."
"And the ones who don't?"
"They change the temperature of the room," Talia said calmly. "Even when they're standing still."
A quiet sound—almost a laugh—slipped through the line. "You always had a talent for noticing those."
"It's my job to notice before it becomes yours."
"Fair," he said. "So what are you suggesting?"
"I'm suggesting we don't rush," Talia replied. "When pressure is visible, it creates sympathy. When it's subtle, it creates self-doubt."
"That assumes she cares what others think."
"It assumes she's human," Talia said. "Which she is. For now."
The man was quiet again, longer this time.
"There are already external eyes on Milan," he said finally. "Cross is paying attention."
"I know," Talia replied. "Which is why this stays clean. No scandals. No obvious resistance. Just… correction."
"Across the board?"
"Across the board," Talia confirmed. "Schedules tighten. Standards shift. Comparisons become unavoidable. The hierarchy reminds everyone where stability comes from."
"And if someone refuses to settle?"
Talia's lips curved—not cruel, not kind. Simply assured."Then they'll find the industry far less forgiving than they imagined."
Another breath on the line.
"Proceed carefully," the man said.
"I always do."
She ended the call without ceremony.
Talia slipped her phone away and resumed walking, heels tapping softly against the polished floor