Page 178 of Silent Shadows

“Meaning?”

“Meaning honest.”

The word scares me.

“Like…” I stare out the window, toward a city I thought was my home. “What if it’s not really about Bigfoot? At least not all of it. What if it’s about belief? That’s what I was going for in the first episode.”

I really was. It was about people trying to matter. Trying to connect. Trying to understand the impossible because real life feels too small. Trying to feel less alone. Trying to be seen.

Marissa goes quiet again. The thoughtful kind. She sets her coffee on the bedside table and tucks one leg underneath herself.

“Okay, can I put my producer hat back on now?”

“Be my guest,” I say.

“I’ve been thinking about this. And it might sound crazy. But you know what this sounds like?”

I immediately narrow my eyes. “A trap.”

“A brand expansion. It’s always inevitable when continuing a growth trajectory. I just didn’t think it would come in the form of anything true crime-adjacent.”

I groan so loudly it rattles something in my soul. “Oh for fuck’s sake, Riss.”

“You’re treating this like it has to replace The DL.” My shoulders tense automatically. Because of course I am. Because The DL with Daisy is the thing. The thing I built. The thing that built me.

Marissa continues, “But it doesn’t. You built a network! You don’t have to host every damn show forever. You’ve done The DL. Cool, fine. But what if this move doesn’t require the board to weigh in on every move? What if you took the ownership and respect you rightfully deserve and did your own thing? Full creative control.”

“I like how that sounds. But what is it, then?”

“A branch. Like, an arm of the network,” she says. “A storytelling division.”

Division. Sub-brand. Imprint. Series slate. Whatever corporate nonsense word we want. Suddenly my brain starts moving fast.

“What if,” I say slowly, “it’s about all of the unexplainable things? And the people who spend their lives dedicated to them.”

Marissa points at me so fast she almost spills coffee. “I love that.”

I sit up straighter. Energy flickering somewhere unfamiliar. Hope, maybe.

“What if it’s curiosity?” I say. “Curiosity, as in, openness and empathy. No skepticism.”

“Tell me more,” she has her phone set to record—something we used to do when we were in the zone and didn’t want to lose momentum.

“What if this wasn’t just Bigfoot? What if it was a series of stories about belief? About obsession. About mystery. About people chasing impossible things because reality hurts.” I shift on the bed. “Okay, I used to think people chased the unexplainable because they wanted answers. Now I think it might be the opposite. Maybe people chase mystery because life hands you questions no one can answer—grief, loneliness, heartbreak—and believing there’s something bigger out there makes the silence feel less brutal. We explore that. We give people hope and permission to process in their own ways, on their own time.”

Marissa’s nodding now, totally invested.

“It’s about humans seeing each other,” I continue, faster now. “And knowing they’re not alone.”

I think of Miles. Taylor. Jax. Maya. The unreal tenderness of people who believed hard enough to keep going.

“Hell yeah, fuck yeah,” Marissa says quietly, determination blazing in her eyes.

I blink.

“Yeah?”

“That’s good.”