The spy arrived on a Tuesday.
That alone made him obvious.
He wore Titan-standard work boots—too clean. His lighting certification was valid, but freshly issued. His hands knew how to hold equipment, but his eyes didn't linger on shadows or angles. They lingered on people. On doors. On where things were kept.
Avery noticed him the moment he stepped onto the set.
The System didn't even need prompting.
[Target Identified.][Role: Junior Lighting Technician.][Loyalty: 0%.][True Objective: Theft of Intellectual Property.][Affiliation: Titan Management.]
Avery didn't react.
She simply kept walking.
If Marcus Thorne thought he was subtle, it only proved how desperate he'd become.
For three days, the technician—Evan, according to his badge—played his role well. He adjusted lights when told. Asked safe questions. Smiled nervously at the crew. But every night, after most people had left, he lingered.
Too long.
Avery watched through the System's passive surveillance feed as Evan memorized access codes, counted footsteps, mapped blind spots.
On the fourth night, he made his move.
He slipped into the locker room just past midnight, hands shaking as he opened the metal door assigned to him. Inside was the script—Titanic, bound in black, marked CONFIDENTIAL in silver lettering.
Or so he thought.
He swapped it quickly, sliding the binder into his bag and replacing it with an identical one. He exhaled in relief, unaware that every movement was being logged.
[Action Confirmed: Theft Attempt.][Suggested Responses: Termination / Legal Action / Psychological Countermeasure.]
Avery chose the third option.
Earlier that day, she had personally visited the locker room.
She hadn't touched the real script.
Instead, she had placed a gift.
The fake script Evan now carried was flawless on the outside—same paper, same weight, same cover.
Inside?
Madness.
Page one opened with:
TITANIC: THE UNTOLD DEPTHSGenre: Romance / Disaster / Tentacle Horror
By page five, the iceberg had been replaced by a colossal abyssal squid. By page twelve, Jack fought it with a flare gun while delivering a monologue about destiny. Rose piloted the ship using "the power of love and upper-class rage."
It got worse.
So much worse.
Evan didn't read it.
He ran.
Two days later, in a glass-walled office high above the city, Marcus Thorne slammed the binder onto his desk.
"What the hell is this?" he roared.
His legal team stared at the pages in stunned silence.
A junior executive cleared his throat. "Sir… according to this, the third act involves the squid forming an emotional bond with the heroine."
Marcus flipped pages violently.
"THIS is her big project?!" he shouted. "This is what she's betting everything on?!"
Someone laughed.
They tried to stop it.
They failed.
Marcus's face twisted with fury and relief all at once.
"She's lost her mind," he said coldly. "Good. Leak this. Quietly. Let the industry see what kind of joke she's become."
Orders went out.
Whispers spread.
Producers chuckled behind closed doors.
"Avery Rivers is making a monster romance?""A squid?""She's finished."
Back at the coastal set, Avery stood on the deck of the ship, wind pulling at her coat.
Elias Vance approached, holding a tablet.
"They took the bait," he said, a grin breaking through his usual restraint. "Marcus already mocked it in a private investor call. We have the recording."
Avery nodded.
"Good."
"And when they realize it's fake?"
"They won't," Avery replied calmly. "Not until the teaser drops."
She looked out at the ocean.
"By the time they understand," she continued, "they'll already have discredited themselves."
The System chimed.
[Psychological Warfare: Successful.][Rival Intelligence Reliability: Compromised.][Marcus Thorne Confidence Level: Artificially Inflated.]
Avery smiled faintly.
Marcus thought he'd stolen a weapon.
In reality, he'd stolen a mirror—and laughed at his own reflection.
Far below, waves crashed against steel.
The real Titanic script remained locked away, untouched, waiting.
And somewhere in a tower of glass and arrogance, a man was celebrating a victory that didn't exist.