Daryll was quiet for a moment. He'd been doing PR for fifteen years. He'd managed scandals and crises and the kind of bad press that made careers implode. He'd never seen anything like this. A crisis that wasn't a crisis. A scandal that was actually a hero story. Three stalkers who became the most credible character witnesses money couldn't buy. And Sam Pemberton — whose name was now trending alongside Arianne's, whose elbows had just made her more famous than any runway show ever had.
He rotated his screen toward Monica. "Look at this."
The clip of Sam had been isolated further. Someone had slowed it down, added a caption: Sam Pemberton doesn't need a stunt double. The comments were pouring in. The fan forums were buzzing. The entertainment press was already drafting profiles.
"I gave her to Keller," Daryll said again.
"You mentioned that."
"I should call her."
"Sam?"
