In the morning, Cicely went to attend classes and overheard her classmates discussing the day's trending topics. Curiosity got the better of her and she pulled out her phone to see what the fuss was about.
The trending topics were littered with mentions of "Era of Elegance," each one loaded with a barrage of harsh criticisms. Taking a big IP seemed like a dream gig, but with more fans came more haters, and the smallest ripple could stir up a tsunami of negativity. Critiques of corporate greed, the state of the entertainment industry, and disrespect for creative works filled the screen, some comments too vile to even read and yet somehow upvoted to prominence.
With a dispassionate glance at the vitriol, Cicely pocketed her phone and skipped her last class to leave campus early. She stuck to her routine and headed to the diner to "pay off her debts" – to work her shift and grab a bite before the lunch rush.
The diner's entrance was swarming with people who looked like reporters, all badges and bulky cameras. Cicely breezed past them and into the chaos of the kitchen where Emiliana was hiding out like a deer in the headlights.
"Em, what's got you playing hide and seek?" Cicely asked, stashing her bag in her locker.
"The reporters." Emiliana repeated, her voice a mix of anxiety and fear.d2
Cicely locked her locker and faced Emiliana. "Guilty conscience?"
"No! It's just..." Emiliana was struggling. "I'm scared I might say something dumb, and you know how they can twist your words."
Cicely cut her off, "Look, hiding now won't change anything. You're in this industry, right? This is part of the gig. Don't worry, you're innocent, and that's your armor. People root for the underdog."
After a moment of silence, Emiliana looked touched. "Cicely, how did this all blow up so suddenly? This kind of news usually doesn't make such waves."
Cicely raised an eyebrow. "Isn't it satisfying to see some justice?"
Emiliana nodded but admitted, "I'm just afraid..."
"That I'm behind it?" Cicely asked bluntly, addressing the unspoken suspicion.
Emiliana squirmed. "I don't want you getting in trouble for me."
Cicely gave her a long look, then a half-smile. "Don't worry about me. I might like you, but it's just that – I like you."
Emiliana didn't quite follow but didn't feel uncomfortable either. Cicely advised her to face the reporters and be honest, and if in doubt, to say nothing at all. They couldn't exactly eat her alive.
After the pep talk, Cicely stepped out of the locker room, right on time for her lunch break. Her usual order was ready – a spread that included spaghetti and shrimp, but today, her appetite was off; the flavors had become too routine.
Her phone rang, cutting through the hum of the diner. She glanced at the screen, took a few indifferent bites of her spaghetti, and let the call go to voicemail. It rang again almost immediately. This time, she answered.
"What's up?" she greeted the caller.
"Where are you?" came Seth's familiar, icy tone.
"Diner," she replied, her voice dripping with nonchalance.
There was a pause on the line, and Cicely continued her lackluster lunch. Finally, Seth spoke up. "Aren't you going to tell me something?"
"You call to ask what I have to say?" Cicely smirked.
"Have you seen the news?"
"Yep. They got what they deserved. What about it?"
Another pause.
"Cicely," Seth said, his voice even. "Finish your lunch and come back to the Ellis estate."
The fork in Cicely's hand paused midair, and her tone chilled. "Why?"
"I have to deal with this mess. I won't have the time to indulge you. Stay at the estate for now."
"Is that so?"
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