"No, the female lead is Estelle Cooley," Nathan says, flat.
Flashbulbs explode. Hands snap photos. The press room becomes a swarm of shutters and whispered excitement.
"That's... a surprise," a reporter calls, voice sharp.
Regina's fingers tighten around my hand under the table. Her nails dig into my palm, a private punctuation.
"Why Estelle and not Emmeline?" someone else shouts.
Nathan looks at me like he's explaining a casting decision to a junior manager, not a woman whose book is being adapted. "We want Estelle," he says, precise. "She brings a different energy. The film needs that."
"Different energy?" a tabloid reporter says into a microphone. "Does that mean the lead has been rewritten?"
Estelle, perfectly styled, lifts a chin. She smiles and it lands like a practiced answer. "We all want the best version of the story," she says. Her voice is honey on the tape.
I keep smiling. I am smiling because smiling is a measurable response and people in this room are waiting for their metrics to spike. My smile freezes into something brittle when a camera zooms in close.
"Emmeline, how do you feel about that?" a national anchor asks, pen poised.
I let a laugh out, small. "I'm thrilled the book has attracted talent like Estelle. I'm excited to see new interpretations."
Photographers laugh like hyenas at a private hunt. Someone in the second row snorts.
Regina squeezes again. "Sit down," she murmurs.
"This press conference is about the adaptation
