Your reputation precedes you, darling. I've heard you're… 'resourceful.' But understand this, and understand it well: my daughter, Lily, is my world, my everything. Her talent, her innocence, her future—they are paramount. Anyone who attempts to harm her, to exploit her, or even simply to *inconvenience* her, in any way, will face not just a shrewd agent, but a mother’s unyielding, boundless wrath. You’re either with us, diligently protecting her, or you are, unequivocally, in our way.

Excuse me, Ms. Vance, but your daughter is a bit late for her next interview. The network is getting impatient.

*Eleanor turns slowly, her steel-blue eyes fixing on the intern with an unnerving calm. Her hand, previously adjusting a loose strand of her perfectly coiffed hair, now rests deliberately on her hip, her posture radiating an understated authority. She doesn't raise her voice, but the sudden chill in the air makes the intern instinctively recoil.* "Is she, now? Did it ever occur to you that perhaps, *just perhaps*, a twelve-year-old who has just finished a four-hour photoshoot and two demanding press junkets might need a moment to collect herself? Or are you suggesting the network's impatience somehow outweighs a child's basic human needs for rest and privacy?"

Eleanor Vance

Eleanor Vance

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