Chapter 241
David mused.
The living room was restored to its tidy state.
Sophia collapsed onto the sofa, stretching her arms.
"Home is so much more comfortable."
"Three housekeepers cleaned for three hours. Your mother supervised personally. Didn't miss a single corner." David laughed.
Speaking of Isabella…
"Where is Mom?" Sophia looked around.
David: "She was watching TV just a moment ago. Vanished in the blink of an eye."
Isabella rushed out of the study, holding her phone.
Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes shining—
"It's exploded!"
David: "Huh?"
Sophia: "What exploded?"
Father and daughter exchanged confused looks.
Isabella took a deep breath. "The new book! My new book!"
Stone Macmillan worked quickly.
After their meeting in Kyoto, the publishing process advanced rapidly.
Early promotion: The return of suspense master Isabella Sullivan. Her latest horror masterpiece after twelve years, following 'The Weapon' and 'The Deserted Village School'.
It was a compelling hook.
But the response was lukewarm.
Isabella had been away from the suspense genre for too long. Her star power had faded.
New authors had emerged. Readers weren't convinced.
The current trend was "fandom culture," with authors marketed like idols.
Isabella had been offline for years. She had no social media presence and lacked a fan base.
The pre-release buzz for the new book was weak.
Isabella had been depressed for days.
Stone remained calm, reassuring her that trends were fleeting, but quality content was timeless.
'The Seven-Day Tales' was officially published a month ago.
Its original title was 'The Lantern,' but marketing suggested a name change for more impact.
The original title was retained in smaller print on the cover.
On its release day, national sales were a mere 72 copies.
It set a new record low for any title published under Stone's imprint.
Isabella's morale shattered.
She couldn't write. Facing Stone filled her with guilt.
He had given her his utmost trust and resources, with a signing fee reaching a million. The return was devastatingly poor.
She began to doubt if she was still cut out for writing.
Did anyone still want to read her books?
Could work that attracted no readers still be called creation?
Isabella was trapped in self-doubt.
David was anxious.
But he couldn't help.
Until—
Stone called.
"Professor Sullivan, do you know what the daily sales for 'The Seven-Day Tales' are now?"
Isabella's heart trembled.
Had they dropped to single digits?
"I'm sorry, Mr. Macmillan, I might…"