The Greatest Showman #1061 - Family Reaction

Cecilia Davis sat quietly in the art gallery, her fingers delicately flipping through the newspapers that had just been released this morning. From The Times to The Sun, Empire to Q Magazine, she absorbed every bit of news. Not just the big headlines, but the art galleries' magazines that scattered the space—professional publications with low circulation, yet rich with insights.

It was a typical London morning—gray skies gradually giving way to a pale gleam of sunlight, as though the sun were making a valiant attempt to break through the clouds. Though it outlined the promise of summer, it was still tinged with the chill of winter. It wasn't spring yet, not in the air, at least.

Inside the gallery, silence reigned. There were no sounds, no disruptions, only the stillness that accompanied the art. The traffic outside—busy, constant, and hurried—was completely separate from this peaceful sanctuary. The large glass doors acted as a boundary, keeping the two worlds apart. In here, even breathing seemed more deliberate, as if the slightest sound might disturb the delicate balance.

For some, this silence was a soothing balm, a rare calm amid the noise of the world. But for others, like Cecilia, it could feel suffocating, as though their hands and feet were bound, unsure where to place themselves. As an art dealer, Cecilia had grown accustomed to this serene atmosphere. Though she didn't mind indulging in leisure at times, when it came to work, she was entirely focused. In this world, professionalism was paramount.

Her boss was a different breed—strict, demanding, and relentless. The meticulous attention to detail, the obsession with etiquette, and the impossible standards—Cecilia had learned over the years to navigate all of it with grace. She had long since left her apprenticeship behind, and now, at the heart of London's high art circles, she managed the unexpected with a calm, almost effortless demeanor. A cup of coffee, a newspaper—everything fell into place for a perfect morning.

At eleven o'clock, a soft click of the glass door disturbed the tranquility. It was rare for guests to come in at this hour, but occasionally, something special would happen. Cecilia lifted her head and smiled politely. She didn't greet the person verbally—she simply offered a courteous nod and a friendly look.

That was her boss's rule: in an art gallery, the focus should be on the art, not on overt flattery or commercialism. Guests should have space to breathe, to find their own connection with the work on display.

Cecilia was accustomed to this quiet professionalism.

But then, the moment shifted. The familiar aura of her boss entered the gallery, and Cecilia instinctively stood up. This wasn't just any visitor—this was Elizabeth Hall, a woman whose presence commanded respect. Elizabeth was tall, elegant, dressed in a simple white lace dress paired with light green stilettos, and carrying a classic black handbag. Nothing overtly flashy or expensive—just a grace and dignity that emanated from her every movement.

Cecilia knew that Elizabeth's clothes were custom-made. Brands and labels meant nothing to her. The true measure of wealth and status was in the subtleties.

"Good morning," Elizabeth greeted, her voice soft but confident. She wasn't domineering, but there was an undeniable warmth that made anyone in her presence feel like they were being spoken to by perfection itself.

Cecilia nodded back in a reserved, respectful manner—a silent acknowledgment of the dignity that defined Elizabeth. It was the perfect response: understated but precise.

"I just wanted to inform you that everything for next week's private party is arranged. The guest list and process details will be sent today for your approval. Once confirmed, you can send them out," Elizabeth said in her usual efficient tone. "Also, for the private collection invitations, you'll need to organize the mail. We need them by tomorrow."

"Yes, ma'am," Cecilia replied, her voice smooth.

Elizabeth moved to leave but paused midway, her gaze falling on the front page of The Times, where a prominent headline caught her attention. Cecilia followed Elizabeth's gaze and saw it—the bold, unmistakable headline about Renly Hall, the young actor who had taken Hollywood by storm.

For a moment, Cecilia felt a flicker of confusion. Elizabeth never paid much attention to the tabloids. Yet, there was something about the headline that made her boss linger, her gaze intense.

Elizabeth's voice was soft but laced with something Cecilia couldn't quite place. "Go on," she said, her words barely audible, but with an unmistakable edge.

Cecilia hesitated, her mind racing. "This is the most talked-about story today. It's about Renly Hall, the young actor who won an Oscar last year..." she trailed off, feeling the growing tension in the air.

She could sense the subtle shift in Elizabeth's mood—the temperature around her seemed to drop, and Cecilia instinctively paused, aware of how much her words were affecting her boss.

"Renly Hall," she continued, trying to stay calm, "he's one of the hottest young stars right now. And it turns out he's from a noble family—something that's just been revealed. It's caused quite a stir." Cecilia swallowed, uncertain whether to continue. "He's always kept his background private, relying solely on his talent to make it in Hollywood. And his performance in Crazy in Love a couple of years ago is still beloved by many."

Cecilia found herself speaking faster as she became more excited. "He's even received rave reviews for his performance in Les Miserables in London's West End. Many critics are saying he's the best actor since Laurence Olivier. It's incredible!" She paused, unsure if she was saying too much, but unable to stop herself.

Then, it struck her—Elizabeth's piercing gaze. It was as if her boss were studying her, waiting for something more. And Cecilia could feel the atmosphere growing colder by the second.

"And now," Cecilia added, almost in a daze, "his movie Edge of Tomorrow just opened here, and it's doing incredibly well. The opening weekend box office was the second best of the year, just behind The Avengers. I'm planning to see it this weekend myself. Everyone's saying it's not just a typical blockbuster—it's a truly deep film."

Cecilia's voice trailed off as she felt Elizabeth's icy silence. She had said too much—much more than she had intended. But it was too late now.

Elizabeth's calm voice cut through the tension. "So, you like Renly?" she asked, her tone as smooth and cool as ever, but with a subtle bite beneath the surface.

Cecilia's heart skipped a beat. Her mind raced for an answer, but the truth was already out there. She had let her excitement slip. The words stuck in her throat as she struggled to maintain composure.

"Um," Cecilia stammered, her cheeks flushing. "I just think he's... well, very special. A unique actor." She could barely look up.

The silence lingered for a long moment, broken only by Elizabeth's steady gaze.