The video would not die. It grew heads.
“Have you seen this angle?" Monica asked, scrolling. “Side shot. Your hand is art."
Freya sipped tea. “I don't need to see my hand," she said.
Francis stood by the window, phone to his ear. “No statement beyond safety," he told comms. “Facts only. No adjectives." He hung up and looked at Freya. “You okay to ignore this for an hour?"
“I can try," she said.
Her phone buzzed. Unknown number, then a text: “It's Leo. Jackson's assistant. He wants to meet. Today." Another: “He asks you to help clarify. Press conference."
Monica's eyebrows climbed. “Clarify what? Gravity?"
Francis's mouth flattened. “Say no."
Freya stared at the screen. “He won't stop unless I face him," she said. “Let's end it. Public place. Short."
“Not alone," Francis said at on
