The presenter opened the envelope.
Arianne's hand tightened around Franz's under the table. She had told the truth during the interview—win or lose, he was already the winner in her eyes. The words had been honest, carefully chosen, designed to protect him the way she always protected the people she loved. But sitting here now, in the golden darkness of the theater, with the cameras trained on their table and the massive screens displaying the faces of five nominees, she wanted this for him.
The pause stretched. The presenter smiled, drawing out the moment the way presenters always did.
"And the award goes to… Noah Hart. The Second Cut."
The room detonated.
Applause crashed against the walls. Someone at the next table shouted. Sam's voice rose above the noise, bright and triumphant. Daryll was already on his feet, his expression the particular satisfaction of a manager whose client had just validated every strategic decision he'd ever made.
Franz didn't move.
