Lucas sat in the greenroom with his blazer unbuttoned and his pulse at a slow, careful rhythm.
The lights outside the stage glass were painfully bright. Beyond them, a studio full of sleek glass, glowing LED lines, and a world-class anchor who'd made a name skewering men just like him—unprepared, inherited, out of their depth.
He wasn't nervous. Not exactly.
He was listening.
"Heart rate steady. Jaw unclenched. Breathing pattern acceptable. You're ready." ATHENA's voice was low, calm, precise. "You have two paths: defensiveness or controlled disclosure. The latter wins public trust faster."
Lucas exhaled. "Got it."
Across the room, Rhea was typing something on her phone with one hand and sipping black coffee with the other. She didn't look up when she said, "Don't fight her. Redirect. Control the tone. If you defend, you've already lost."
"I remember."
"No," she said, glancing up. "You remember a script. This is war. Feel the hits and smile anyway."
A production assistant stepped in with a clipboard. "You're on in two."
Lucas stood, adjusted his sleeves, and walked toward the set.
The studio was colder than expected.
The host sat already posed behind a translucent desk. Bianca Yue—mid-forties, razor-sharp cheekbones, a reputation for dismantling corporate figures with nothing but a smirk and a follow-up question.
She wore white today. Like someone who expected blood.
"Lucas Pan," she greeted as he took his seat across from her. "The gym teacher turned tech heir. I should ask, do we call you Coach Pan, or CEO Pan now?"
Lucas smiled mildly. "Whatever makes your headline cleaner."
She didn't smile back.
The light above the camera went red. Live.
"Let's start with the obvious," Bianca said. "You were unknown to the public two weeks ago. Now, you control billions in assets, tech contracts with foreign governments, and the most advanced AI system in the private sector. Are you qualified for that responsibility?"
Lucas shrugged slightly. "Is anyone qualified to inherit power? I'm just the first one who's honest about learning on the job."
"Good. Confident but grounded," ATHENA whispered. "She's logging tone markers—your humility is spiking engagement."
Bianca's lips twitched. "Let's go deeper, then. Your mother raised you as a single parent. But reports suggest your father, Cyrus Han, made contact during your childhood. Why keep your identity hidden?"
Lucas met her eyes. "Because I didn't grow up a headline. I grew up with a bicycle, a public school schedule, and a mom who worked two jobs."
She tilted her head. "Are you saying Cyrus Han abandoned you?"
Lucas hesitated—just long enough.
"No. I'm saying he made choices. And so did my mom. I respect both of them, even if their paths never fully aligned."
Bianca narrowed her eyes. "So you're claiming emotional legitimacy, not legal design?"
Lucas leaned forward, elbows on the edge of the desk. "I'm not claiming anything. The will speaks for itself. And it's been validated by legal counsel and the board. I'm not here to prove I belong. I'm here because he put my name on the door before he died."
That landed. Her expression tightened just a fraction.
"You're ahead now. But she's about to pivot. Watch the pause."
Bianca smiled—too sweet.
"And what do you say to the growing calls for an investigation into the legitimacy of that will? Some are saying Frances Luo was blindsided. Others are suggesting your name was added during a period of… diminished capacity."
Lucas went still.
The studio held its breath.
He didn't blink.
"Do not lash out. Breathe. Pause. Choose precision."
Lucas nodded once. "I think anyone who's ever watched Cyrus Han move knows one thing: nothing happened in that man's life unless he wanted it to."
Bianca raised a brow. "So you're saying the widow is lying?"
Lucas smiled. "I'm saying anyone who thinks Cyrus Han didn't plan five steps ahead of everyone in the room hasn't been paying attention."
That got a murmur from the control room.
Bianca pressed again. "But what if Frances Luo challenges your claim in court? Would you be willing to step down—"
"No," he said, firm. "But I'd let the courts speak. I'm not afraid of transparency."
Bianca paused. Just long enough for it to feel like a retreat.
Then: "One last question. People are calling you the 'ghost son.' The myth behind the money. Do you think that's who you really are?"
Lucas sat still for a beat. Let it settle.
Then leaned in.
"I think I'm the part of my father he never had the right time to become."
The camera light blinked off.
Silence.
Then the producer whispered something into Bianca's earpiece. She blinked, nodded, and turned to the screen.
"Thank you, Mr. Pan."
Lucas stood. "Thanks for the warm-up."
Backstage, Rhea didn't say anything until they were halfway to the elevator.
Then, softly: "That last line? That wasn't in the prep."
Lucas shrugged. "Felt true."
Rhea smiled behind her phone. "It's trending already."
A message popped into his new phone. He checked it.
ATHENA: "New approval rating: +11.2% post-broadcast. Frances's proxies are now debating strategy shift. Also, you just made your mother cry. She's watching."
Lucas looked up. "Mom's watching?"
"Live."
He exhaled. "Damn."
"You did well. She's proud."
Lucas didn't answer right away.
He leaned his head back against the elevator wall, eyes closed for a breath or two, letting the moment settle. Then he opened them again and looked at Rhea, who was scrolling through live feedback and muttering something about engagement metrics.
"What's next?" he asked.
She didn't even look up. "Next interview's softer. Personal angle. They'll want to talk about basketball, dating, what you eat for breakfast, that sort of thing. Emotion sells."
Lucas raised an eyebrow. "I didn't realize my cereal choices were national news."
Rhea shrugged. "You're not cereal anymore. You're premium export content. People want to believe they're seeing the 'real you,' even if they aren't. Especially then."
"Great."
She glanced up. "Keep it warm. Candid. Don't overshare. They'll try to make you say something stupid about your love life."
"I don't have a love life."
"Exactly," she said, handing him a black card with bullet points. "Which means they'll want to build one for you. Preempt it. Own the narrative before they turn you into a tragic bachelor or, worse, a thirsty CEO."
The second interview was shot in a more relaxed setting—a sunlit lounge with a curved couch, low coffee table, and a host with soft edges and a warm laugh. Lina Chen, lifestyle media darling, and queen of the personal pivot.
They were already rolling when she leaned in and smiled.
"You know," she said, "I've done hundreds of interviews, but I don't think I've ever sat across from someone who's been a professional athlete and inherited a multi-billion-dollar AI empire."
Lucas gave her a grin. "It's not the usual career track."
"Let's start there. What's changed the most since leaving the court?"
He didn't hesitate. "Back then, everything was physical. You ran the plays, felt the rhythm, trusted your instincts. This? This is like playing blindfolded chess while someone rewrites the rules mid-game."
She laughed. "So… stress?"
"Endless."
"But you seem calm."
He smiled. "Basketball teaches you how to breathe. Especially when everything's falling apart around you."
Lina nodded, pleased. "Okay. Let's get personal. Dating life. Who's lucky enough to be texting you right now?"
Lucas shook his head, laughing a little. "Right now? ATHENA. My AI. She texts me more than anyone else, and she's always right."
"Seriously, though. No partner?"
He hesitated. Just long enough.
"Not at the moment. I've been rebuilding everything I thought I knew about my life. Feels unfair to drag someone else through that while I'm still figuring it out."
Lina smiled. "Honest answer. You'll be the Internet's boyfriend in five minutes."
He grinned. "Do I get a crown or just memes?"
Back in the car, Rhea sat beside him, tablet in hand.
"You did fine," she said. "Soft charisma. Thoughtful, but not pitiful. Athletic past gives you relatability. And no weird exes popped up on the feed."
Lucas leaned against the window. "You sound surprised."
"I'm not. Just impressed."
His phone buzzed.
ATHENA: "Engagement spike +19%. Trending keywords: 'Lucas Pan smile,' 'Lucas Pan real answers,' and 'gym teacher billionaire.' One user has declared you 'the only man alive with both abs and humility.'"
Lucas chuckled. "Abs and humility?"
"It's rare. Weaponize it."
He shook his head, staring at the city blurring by.
"They really think they know me."
"No," ATHENA replied. "They know the version you just gave them. And they like it."