The news of the Paramount deal felt like a physical weight in Anastasia's pocket as she stepped through the front door. The house was quiet, the smell of her mother's roast chicken drifting through the hallway. For a moment, she stood in the foyer, looking at the familiar framed photos on the wall—pictures of her as a toddler, long before the auburn hair had become a "trademark" and her name had become a "brand."
"I'm home!" she called out, her voice slightly breathless.
The house erupted into movement. Sarah and Beth came running from the kitchen, followed closely by her parents. They had been waiting for three days, the tension in the house as thick as a summer storm.
The Announcement"Well?" Beth asked, her eyes darting to Anastasia's face for any sign of a leak. "Did the gunslingers at Paramount say yes?"
Anastasia couldn't hold the poker face any longer. A wide, genuine smile broke across her face—not the practiced smile of a star, but the one she reserved for her sisters. "I'm in. I'm playing Emma's daughter. And... the deal is for $150,000upfront."
The silence that followed was absolute. Her mother leaned against the doorframe, her hand over her heart, while her father let out a slow, low whistle. To a family that had always lived comfortably but modestly, $150,000 was a life-altering sum—a figure that belonged in a different tax bracket entirely.
"One hundred and fifty..." Sarah whispered. "Stasia, that's... that's more than some people save in a lifetime."
The GatheringBefore the celebration could turn into a frenzy of plans and questions, Anastasia's expression shifted. She became serious, her green eyes grounding the room. "Can we sit down for a minute? In the living room? I want to talk to you guys."
The family followed her, sensing the shift in the air. They sat on the familiar floral-print sofas, the late afternoon sun casting long, golden shadows across the rug.
"I know things are moving fast," Anastasia began, her voice soft but firm. She looked at her parents first, then at Sarah and Beth. "I know that in the last year, I've gone from being just your daughter and sister to being... something else in the eyes of the world. And with this new movie, and this money, it's only going to get louder."
She leaned forward, her hands clasped. "I need you to hear me. I am not going to let this change who I am to you. I don't want to be the 'star' of this family. I don't want you to treat me like I'm the one in charge just because I have a larger bank account."
The AnchorHer father started to speak, but she gently shook her head.
"I'm fourteen," she reminded them, and for the first time in months, she let herself sound like it. "I'm smart, and I know how to navigate a set, but I don't know how to navigate the world without you. I need you to keep me grounded. If you see me becoming someone I'm not—if you see me getting arrogant or distant—I need you to call me out. Don't be afraid to tell me 'no' just because of what I do for a living."
She looked at her sisters, her voice thickening slightly. "Sarah, Beth... I still need you to be my sisters. I still need the movie nights, and the arguments over the bathroom, and the advice that has nothing to do with Hollywood. If I lose that, then the fame isn't worth a cent of that $150,000."
Her mother walked over and pulled her into a tight hug, the rest of the family closing in until they were a tight, protective circle. In that moment, Anastasia didn't feel like a mogul or a prodigy. She felt like a girl who had finally found her true North.
"We aren't going anywhere, Stasia," her father promised. "We'll be the ones holding the rope while you're out there flying."
The Dinner with the GiantsA few nights later, Anastasia carried that grounding with her to Chasen's. The transition from the humble living room to the deep red leather booths and white tablecloths of the legendary restaurant was jarring, but she felt anchored.
She sat at the table with Shirley MacLaine, Jack Nicholson, and James L. Brooks. The air was thick with the scent of prime rib and the weight of Oscars.
"So, kid," Jack Nicholson said, leaning in with that famous, wolfish grin as the appetizers arrived. "I hear the deal is signed. You're officially a Paramount girl now. You ready for the sharks? They're going to try to turn you into a product before the first week of filming is over."
Anastasia took a sip of her water, her forest-green eyes meeting his without a hint of tremor. "They can try, Mr. Nicholson. But I have a very strong defense system at home. I'm not for sale; I'm just for hire."
Shirley MacLaine laughed, a sharp, delighted sound. "She's got a spine, Jimmy. Most of the girls they bring in here are trembling in their shoes. This one is checking the silver."
"I'm not checking the silver, Ms. MacLaine," Anastasia replied with a witty tilt of her head. "I'm just making sure I know where all the exits are. It's a habit."
As the dinner continued, Anastasia didn't just listen; she engaged. She discussed the script's emotional beats with Brooks and laughed at Jack's stories of old Hollywood. She was fourteen, she was wealthy, and she was sitting with the gods of the industry—but as she looked at her reflection in the polished glass, she saw the same girl who had sat on her living room floor two days ago.
The sharks could come. She was ready.