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Oscar’s words had proven prophetic. That year, thanks to two films directed by my mentor, I wor Best Newcomer at one of the most prestigious award ceremonies in the industry.
The following year, I was cast in my first leading role in a feature film-this time under the direction of a globally renowned auteur, a close colleague of my mentor. During auditions, it was my master who personally recommended me.
And I didn’t let them down.
Months later, the film premiered worldwide, garnering both critical acclaim and commercia
success.
Audiences and critics alike were captivated by the emotional depth and complexity I brought tc
he role. Awards buzz followed swiftly.
‘Lyra Quinn, you’re incredible! My queen!”
‘With acting like this, you’re Oscar-bound!”
Social media exploded with praise, but I remained focused-grounded by my mentor’s guidance and fueled by an unwavering commitment to my craft.
Though I didn’t take home an Oscar that year, I wasn’t discouraged.
kept growing, choosing roles with care, taking part in a string of powerful, thought-provoking ilms that showcased my evolving range. I steadily climbed the ladder-not with noise, but with
precision.
3y thirty, I had become one of Hollywood’s most respected actresses. My name was now associated with films that left lasting impressions-works that explored the depths of human pain, redemption, and feminine strength.
And finally, one unforgettable night, I stood on the Oscar stage.
Tears shimmered in my eyes as I held the Best Actress statuette, the weight of my journey esting in my hands.
n my acceptance speech, I thanked Director Jake for his unwavering faith in me, the creative eams that believed in my talent, and the people who had shown me compassion during my most vulnerable moments.
Then, I ended with quiet conviction:
‘Thank you to the darkness that once tried to consume me-it taught me to cherish the light. And thank you to those who tried to break me. You made me unshakable. This trophy belongs to the spirit that never gave up… and to anyone out there still fighting for their own light.”
The applause was thunderous.
I never once mentioned the Wren family.
The ceremony was broadcast live around the globe. Viewers watched in admiration-awed by my grace, resilience, and strength.
Among them sat familiar faces. The Wren family had gathered to watch the event.
He’s mother and father wept as they saw me standing on that stage.
When the ceremony ended, Julian quietly said he wanted to find me.
But his Mrs. Wrenld his sleeve tightly.
“We were the shadows in her life. Don’t disturb her now. Ava’s finally happy. She doesn’t need us anymore.”
Their father, now frail and wheelchair-bound, sighed through tears of regret.
“Let’s go home. We no longer have the right to call her our daughter.”
Some time later, I was invited to an international film festival-one that brought me back to my homeland in triumph.
Everywhere I went, the streets overflowed with crowds. Cameras flashed. Journalists swarmed.
“Ms. Monroe, now that you’ve returned, do you have any words for your hometown? You’ve experienced so much here.”
“What are your thoughts on the Wren family? Will you reunite with them?”
I faced their questions with calm composure.
“My family are the ones who brought light into my darkest hours.”
Director Jake. My agent. My friends. Those who lifted me up-they are my true family.
As for the Wren family-we were simply strangers now.
Not long after, the Wren Corporation collapsed and declared bankruptcy.
Their father died shortly afterward, wracked with regret.
He’s mother suffered a mental breakdown and now lived in a care home, entirely dependent on Julian.
Burdened by debt, Julian slipped from privilege into ordinary life. He worked odd jobs, enduring the very hardships I once faced.
He followed my career from afar, never saying a word.
Silently, anonymously, he became my most loyal and remorseful fan.
