Oliver stood near the interview table, notebook in hand, speaking quietly with his producer. His pinstripe suit was cut within an inch of aristocracy, hair perfectly styled. He noticed her and brightened instantly, wandering over.
Bea might be imagining it, but his smile had a faintly salivating quality.
“Hello,” he greeted. “How are you feeling?”
About to puke, thanks.
She licked her lower lip. “Nervous.”
His smile had the easy warmth of a favorite uncle. “You’ll be great.”
He gestured toward the set. Two chairs faced each other across a round table that held microphones and water glasses. The background was minimal: matte charcoal wall, subtle Fox Hunt branding.
Bea walked over, and settled into the chair. Oliver took the seat opposite her, adjusting his cufflinks.
One of the producers stepped forward. “Standard format. Oliver introduces, then conversation. Live chat will be visible but don’t focus on it.” He looked up at the board. “We’re nearly at three hundred thousand viewers and we’re not even rolling.”
“Wonderful.” He picked up his glass, brushed his hair to the side in the reflection, then set it down again.
Bea nodded mutely.
Her phone buzzed again in her lap.
MAX: Mirror feed ready.
JAXON: Files queued for release.
From the floor: “Thirty seconds.”
Every survival instinct in her body voted strongly for running.
Oliver leaned toward her slightly, voice dropping. “Don’t worry, there will be no mention of anything…unpleasant,” he reassured her.
The cameraman counted down silently with his fingers.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Her heart was hammering hard enough she was sure the microphones would pick it up.
Two.
The red light linked to the studio cameras flicked on.
“We’re live.”
Oliver turned to the camera as if he had been born in front of it. “Good evening,” he began smoothly. “Tonight on a very special episode ofFox Hunt, we’re joined by Beatriz Griffin.”
Bea folded her hands in her lap. Beneath the nausea, something else was waking up. A thin, electric clarity. The same feeling she’d had the night of the IGNITE presentation all those years ago.
She wasn’t calm. She was sharp. That was enough.
“The recent marriage between Bea and Rafael Griffin has captivated audiences across the United Republic and beyond. Bea’s journey into one of Westhaven’s most prominent familieshas been described by many as something of a modern fairy tale.”
He turned toward her. “Bea, thank you for being here.”
