As the music shifted to a heavy, melodic synth-pop beat, Elena leaned in, her shoulder brushing Maya’s. "The after-party is at a private lounge in Chelsea. No cameras, no press. Just people being themselves. Want to see what the real lifestyle looks like?"
"Just looking for the right angle," Maya replied, her pulse tripping. "This place is… a lot."
Maya turned to see Elena, the powerhouse producer behind the night’s gala. Elena was draped in a charcoal silk suit that blurred the lines between executive and icon.
"It’s visibility, Maya. For a long time, our 'entertainment' was a tragic subplot or a five-minute clip on YouTube," Elena said, stepping closer to look at Maya’s viewfinder. "I wanted to build a palace for our stories instead."
