The cameras came back before the invitations did.
Not the friendly ones.
Not the red-carpet kind.
These were quieter.
A black sedan parked across the street three mornings in a row. Different plates. Same tint.
A lens appeared on a neighboring rooftop—too steady to be a hobbyist.
Security logs showed access pings that didn't belong to any service on record.
Noah noticed the third anomaly.
"We've got watchers," he said, voice low. "Not press."
Aria didn't look up from her tablet. "They never send press first."
---
The difference was subtle, but unmistakable.
Press chased reactions.
These cameras waited for patterns.
They tracked when she left, not where she went.
They recorded who stayed behind, not who arrived.
They didn't zoom on her face—they zoomed on the space around her.
Context.
Behavior.
Association.
"They're rebuilding a profile," Noah said.
Aria nodded. "Which means the old one failed."
---
On set that afternoon, she felt it again.
A new camera angle added without explanation.
A sound tech repositioned twice for no reason.
A production assistant asked questions that weren't in the call sheet.
"How long have you known Noah?"
"Do you prefer working with familiar crews?"
"Do you travel often between projects?"
Aria answered lightly. Vaguely. Harmlessly.
Every answer true.
Just not useful.
---
Later, in the car, Noah checked a mirrored feed.
"They're not hiding it very well," he said.
"They don't need to," Aria replied. "Visibility is permission now."
She watched her reflection in the window—her face calm, posture loose, eyes sharp.
"They think I don't notice," she continued. "That I'll behave differently if I feel seen."
"And will you?"
She smiled faintly.
"No," she said. "I'll behave exactly the same."
---
That night, a silent flag flipped somewhere deep in a system that hadn't been officially acknowledged in years.
Passive surveillance: enabled.
Subject awareness: unconfirmed.
The cameras kept watching.
What they didn't know—
Was that Aria had already started counting them.