….

  Christopher's eyebrows arched, clearly intrigued. "That's high praise, Kiara."

  "...."

  For a moment, the room fell into a reflective silence.

  The person Christopher had initially dismissed as insequential had mao earn such glowing remarks from someone as dising as Kiara.

  That was no small feat.

  Finally, Christopher's face ged, repg his earlier skepticism.

  "So let me get this straight. Keanu, Andrew, Grace…" He muttered, almost to himself. "A rookie with no prior ag history, an indie regur with no standout work, and an ued and uilized actress. And somehow, they all delivered remarkable performances?"

  Anne nodded. "That's right."

  "And it was a debutant director who ma forth such talent together and turned a film better than the script we received?" Christopher pressed.

  Anne nodded firmly. "I know it sounds unlikely, but that's exactly what happened."

  Christopher's eyes narrowed as he processed the information. "So, Stephen also liked it, and I take it he is pnning to reend it to his grandfather?"

  "I am positive. He looked pretty excited about it." Anne replied, a small smile tugging at her lips.

  "…then we might not have much time." Christopher's voice dropped.

  He had iephen to the sing for a very specific reason - to gauge its quality by himself and maybe help give the film a ce.

  If not at least get the film released, whether that meant through film festivals or direct-to-DVD.

  There were no ulterior motives.

  He genuinely wao help - but it is also true he didn't take them pletely seriously either or use his full es.

  It was just that he hadn't believed the film would be any good or this good.

  Yes, Christopher read the script.

  The deal was simple - if Grace was involved, Christopher had to read it.

  When she expressed i in w on the project, he insisted on seeing what she was signing up for.

  The script was good, no doubt.

  Grace had plenty of opportuo shine, which was a rarity in such projects. That alone had made it stand out.

  But potential on paper rarely trao reality, especially when helmed by someone so young and inexperienced.

  Even Grace's enthusiastic praise for the director hadn't swayed him.

  Sure, the kid had talent, his script writing showed promise, even if it might still turn out to be a fluke.

  But direg? His first film? That was a differe entirely.

  Yet here he was, hearing Kaira, someone whose judgmerusted, deliver glowing reviews.

  It was enough to make him pause.

  Perhaps he had uimated them, especially Regal.

  Now, the prospect of the film being picked up by distributors seemed real - if the right person saw it first.

  If Stephen was impressed enough to involve his grandfather, the film might find itself in the hands of someone who could turn it into a serious tender.

  That possibility was more than good news, it was a lifeline, especially sine of their own ts had a part in the project.

  But there wasn't a moment to spare. The industry moved fast, and the risk of losing talent to petitors was very real.

  "Tell me everything." Christopher said, his voice steady but urgent.

  Anne wasted no time, flipping through the papers and rattling off the specifics.

  The key pyers, the actors, the strategy.

  She was quick, and Christopher listened ily, his exhaustion momentarily fotten, as the details were being told.

  ….

  [ Day, Evening - Hawking's Residency]

  "Sir, Jr. Sir wishes to meet you. He is waiting in the lounge area." - a man in a professional suit announced, his voice crisp and formal.

  Stephen Hawking Sr., the one in power, didn't lift his eyes from the book in his p, his face etched with age but still stern.

  ….that brat's here? What does he need from me? - he wondered.

  But added. "Let him in." - his voice is rough due to old age.

  "As you wish." - the man replied before leaving the room.

  A moment ter, Stephen, or more accurately, Stephen Jr., walked into the room - he was the same one who just yesterday attehe private sing of [Following].

  Yet, Stephen Sr. didn't aowledge him, tinuing to turn the pages of his book, his attention fully on the words.

  Stephen Jr., unbothered, crossed the room and sat on the couch.

  Miicked by in silehe only sound in the room the faint rustle of pages as Stephen. Sr. turhem.

  ….

  Stephen Hawking.

  Or, Stephen Hawking. Senior - sihere is another oh his name now.

  heless, the name echoes through Hollywood, a legacy that refuses to fade.

  He made his first mark at twenty, nding a debut lead role in indie ema ba 1960, which is still one of the most iidie films to date.

  However, nobody guessed that was just the start.

  From there, he built a career that ged the face of ag.

  With every role and film, Stephen pushed boundaries, stantly redefining what it meant to perform.

  But like all stories, this came to a close.

  A decade ago, he retired from Hollywood, leaving behind the glitz and the noise.

  s. He had no desire for the spotlight anymore.

  Yet, he couldn't fully disect from the world of film.

  The passion for ema never left him.

  Even after retiring, he kept up with the test releases, always curious, always watg.

  But retly, something has ged.

  He wasn't looking to return as an actor - not unless something truly exceptional came his way.

  But produg, helpialent?

  That idea had started to grow on him.

  He had been reading indie scripts from people he trusted, but eae left him disappointed.

  None of it felt worthy of his name, of the legacy he had worked so hard to build.

  He wasn't going to settle for mediocrity.

  Stephen had always been a man of principle, especially when it came to his craft.

  His reputatio everything to him, and he protected it fiercely.

  But now, as he sat across from his grandson, Stephen realized that maybe his principles were part of the problem.

  Stephen Hawking Jr.

  Same name, but a strained e.

  A gulf between them, filled with silend unspokement.

  If he were ho, Stephehe fault wasirely his grandson's.

  It ran deeper - the distaweearted with his own failures as a father.

  And now, his grandson aying the price for that .

  Naming him after himself had been his way of seeking redemption, a quiet attempt to make things right.

  He had thought, perhaps naively, that the name might serve as a bridge, something tangible to ect what had been fractured, to mend wounds that had loered unseen.

  But it didn't work that way - a name couldn't fix years of .

  Now, their bond was tile to be saved by a title.

  What could he say? What could he do to fix it?

  ….

  After what felt like ay, though it was likely no more than five minutes, Stephen Sr. finally broke the silence.

  He asked. "So, what do you want? It must be important if you have e all the way here." - still not lifting his head.

  His voice was calm but carried an edge, the kind of sharphat demanded an answer without dey.

  …well, I guess that's enough for permission. Stephen Jr. thought.

  So, instead of replying, he rose from his chair and walked over to the home theater system. He powered it on arieved the hard disk from the envelope he had been carrying.

  Stephen Sr. didn't ent on his grandson's behavior as he watched him open an envelope, and i was a film tape and ….a letter that seemed -

  A tract? He wondered but still maintained his silence - it wasn't the first time they experiehese kinds of moments.

  In fact, that is how they verse typically - and that is by as rather than expining personally.

  So he simply waited for whatever that was to e.

  Oher hand, Stephen Jr. put away the tract without the least bit of formality it deserved or he cared to give it.

  It is Hollywood, and nothing ever proceeded without some form of dotation - that is what the piece of paper reminds him of.

  But apparently the tract is called - Film tent Viewing Agreement.

  It was signed between him and Keanu, who is representing Regal - when Stephen Jr. requested a few clips of the movie, a trailer.

  Keanu didn't dee but immediately put Regal on the line.

  Regal, however, paused briefly befreeing. 'If this helps the movie' - he said pinly - 'then I am fih it'.

  And just whehought it roceeding smoothly, Anne, being her meticulous self, wasn't satisfied with how things unfolded.

  Watg Keanu hand over the recorder so casually, without seg any formal assurances - though she tried to temper it with the knowledge that he was still retively o the industry.

  Perhaps he genuinely didn't know better.

  Still, she expected Regal, despite his limited experience as an author, would be more thh - and she didn't even wish to eain the possibility that Regal might also be unaware of sualities… that is impossible.

  And rightly so, because Regal did, in fact, know the procedures.

  So she simply waited on the sideline, expeg Regal to include some refereo the tra the apanying message.

  But no such mention was made.

  For a moment, she was taken aback - then, she remembered again.

  Regal was, after all, the same man who had agreed to Grace's verbal itment to the movie, despite her deying the signing of any official paperwork.

  In hindsight, Anne realized that expeg more from the men involved in this project might have been overly optimistic.

  Still, she had ehe handoff was handled with a modicum of professionalism, though it earned her a few quips from Stephen Jr., who beled her a 'party pooper' and threw in a few other remarks food measure.

  Meanwhile, Stephen Jr. had finished setting up the system to py the short video.

  He had deliberately chosen this trailer instead of presenting the entire film.

  Stephen Jr. turned around, his eyes darting curiously to his grandfather still seated in his chair, his expression unreadable, a perfect poker face.

  Stephen Jr. could feel the sweat starting to bead on his forehead.

  The reason was simple - this brief clip was enough.

  For Stephen Sr., it wasn't necessary to show more.

  Anyone else might he full film, but not for him.

  .

  ….

  [To be tinued…]

  ★─────??★??─────★

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