The endorsement offers kept piling up on Lucas's doorstep one after another, and the answer at the door stayed the same. Neil turned them down. Every single one.
Some of the offers were tempting on paper — a seat at the table, a position waiting for him in a future administration, the kind of soft promise that would make most public figures at least pause. Lucas didn't pause. The answer was still no.
And to put a stop to the parade, Lucas finally went on Twitter and posted a single blunt line of his own.
"To save everyone some time: I'm not endorsing a party this cycle, and I won't be. I'm a longtime supporter of @represent_us — same as my wife — and that's where my hand is going to stay."
The tweet did what his tweets usually did. Within the first hour it had cleared a million likes; by the end of the day it was sitting on several million, with tens of thousands of replies, quote-tweets, and shares stacking up across the platform.
The majority response was relief — whether the person reading it was a Lucas fan or not. Half the country had spent the last six months watching celebrity after celebrity announce who they were "supporting" this time around, like clockwork as the election heated up.
Seeing the most famous man in the world plant his flag outside the color wars instead of inside them landed as a breath of fresh air, even with the rumors flying about how aggressively both parties had been chasing him behind the scenes.
A lot of people appreciated that he'd gone after reform instead of teams.
But there was a minority that read it as fence-sitting, and they weren't quiet about it.
The replies were the usual cross-section.
"Finally. A celebrity who isn't lecturing me about which box to tick. Refreshing as hell."
"Reform's the only fight that actually matters and nobody talks about it. Thank you, Lucas."
"Playing it safe again. Bold move I guess 🙄"
"Easy to stay "neutral" when you're a billionaire and the system already works for you."
"Both-sides framing is a cop-out. Just tell us who you'd vote for."
"Translation: he wants to keep selling tickets in red states AND blue states. Smart move tbh."
"RepresentUs is actually doing the work. Y'all should read up before dunking on this."
"THIS is what celebrity political engagement should look like. Backing reform instead of a team."
"The LK Foundation already does more for actual people than most politicians. Of course he's not picking sides."
"man's never gonna endorse a clown 😂 you know it i know it we don't need him to spell it out for us"
"^^^ this. og fans already know who's getting his vote behind the curtain. doesn't need to be a tweet."
A number of people clearly wanted Lucas on their side specifically and felt skipped over when he refused to commit. The rest of his longtime audience didn't seem to need a public endorsement to know which way the man would actually pull the lever when the time came. They'd watched him use his platform for years on trafficking, on housing, on the Eckstein case. They had a read on him already.
The version of Lucas they'd been following for the better part of a decade was the version that didn't owe anyone the explanation.
---
Meanwhile, a few photos of Lucas and Brad Pitt together had started circulating online.
The two of them had been spotted at the Thermal Club a couple of times — once getting off their bikes in the paddock at the end of a session, once leaving together for an early dinner in town — and the shots had spread fast.
The speculation that followed was the usual mix. Some assumed it was a project. A film. Maybe Lucas was joining whatever Brad was lining up next, or vice versa. Headlines started writing themselves: "LUCAS KNIGHT AND BRAD PITT — WHAT'S COMING?" "Two-Generation Power Move? Sources Say Project Brewing." Most of it was thin air.
Brad, for his part, didn't lose a second of sleep over it. Paparazzi shots without consent had been part of his life since before Lucas was old enough to drive. He'd developed the kind of indifference to it that only came from being chased for thirty straight years.
He just kept his head down and focused on the project.
It had been three days since he'd given Lucas the bike. They were getting along.
Politics had come up a couple of times — fleeting, the way it does between two men sharing a paddock and a long stretch of desert highway — but neither one of them pulled on the thread. It was a sensitive subject for anyone, and they'd both clocked that the other had no interest in turning a working friendship into a debate. They moved on. Bikes and braking points were better conversation anyway.
---
In the middle of that stretch, Lucas had a meeting on the calendar with Warner.
It had been booked for weeks. Standing check-in with Tobias and a handful of the senior development executives to walk through the active slate — the kind of meeting Lucas tried to take in person whenever he could, because phone calls had a way of letting things drift.
The drive in from Thermal to Burbank ate the morning, but he was back by evening, which made it workable.
Shawn got him to the Warner lot a little before eleven. Jack and Simon split off as he went up.
The room was already set when he walked in. Coffee had been brought in. Lucas took the seat they'd left for him and they got down to it.
They moved through the slate quickly. Vinland Saga was the furthest along — rights secured, showrunner shortlist forming up, Iceland and Norway location scouting underway. Fullmetal Alchemist was slower, still tangled in rights structure. Vagabond was barely a conversation yet; Inoue was famously protective and they were being patient about it.
Streaming numbers were in line with projections. Tobias was clearly in a good mood with those numbers in front of him, which moved the meeting along.
Then they got to Geoffrey.
The defamation case was still moving through the courts on its own clock, regardless of Lucas's offensive filing against Geoffrey and Myla. The two suits ran on parallel tracks now, and Warner's legal team had been keeping Tobias briefed weekly.
"Their side is exhausted," Tobias said. "Filing motions for the sake of filing motions at this point. Our attorneys think the case effectively died the morning your complaint hit the docket — Geoffrey just doesn't have the room to maintain a defamation posture while he's facing a conspiracy-to-murder accusation in another courtroom. The judge in our case knows it too. You can feel it in the bench's body language."
Lucas nodded. "How are you positioning publicly?"
"Just quiet. We're not commenting on either case unless asked, and when we're asked we say the same line — 'we stand by our reporting, we look forward to the process resolving.' That's it. Nothing more. The story is telling itself in the press; we don't need to push it."
"Good." Lucas leaned back. "Don't get cute with it. Let his side spend the energy."
"Already the plan."
That settled, Tobias closed his folder and leaned back in his chair himself. They were close to wrapping. Lucas was already mentally on the drive back.
"One more thing before you go," Tobias said. "Something I wanted you to hear from me. You know the Sphere out in Vegas. The big round one? It opens at the end of the month."
Lucas nodded. The name landed, and the memory landed with it.
He'd put money into Sphere Entertainment quietly a while back — small piece, no fanfare, the kind of bet he'd made because he already knew where the venue concept was heading. He hadn't tracked it actively in months.
He'd assumed there'd be a content slate to fill the place when it opened, sure, but he hadn't been paying attention to what was actually going onto that slate.
Apparently he should have been.
"We've been working with them quietly for the past year," Tobias continued. "Joker 2016. Full remaster for the format. Rescaled for the wraparound, audio remixed for the spatial system, the whole picture re-passed scene by scene. It's going to be one of the headline programs for their opening week."
Lucas raised both eyebrows. "You kept the remaster quiet."
"Sphere wanted exclusivity on the announcement, so we agreed to keep it under wraps until they were ready to launch their full lineup. We'd like you there for the premiere screening. End of September, same week the venue opens to the public."
"The original Joker, the man himself, at the remaster of the film inside the venue that's supposed to be the next thing in cinema. The press writes itself, but more than the press — I think you'd genuinely want to see what they've built."
"I'd want to," Lucas said honestly. 'I'd want to more than you know.' "I just don't know if my schedule lets me. The F1 prep is tight, and there's a lot of moving pieces around it right now."
"I figured." Tobias didn't push. "All I'd ask is that you don't say no yet. See if you can carve out a day. The premiere is one evening. Fly in, screen the film, fly out — it's not a week of red carpets, it's one night."
"And I'm telling you now, having seen the test reels — that venue is going to be the future of how big movies get shown. The way a great theater was the future once, and IMAX was the future once. This is the next version of that conversation. You're going to want to have been in the room when it opened."
Lucas held his gaze for a second, then nodded slowly. "Let me see what the F1 schedule lets me do. If there's a way to make it work, we'll make it work."
"That's all I'm asking."
The meeting broke. Tobias walked him to the elevator, the way he usually did, and they kept the small talk light on the way down.
In the back of the SUV on the drive back to Thermal, Lucas sat with his head against the window and turned the venue over in his mind for the first time in months.
'Of all the projects on Warner's slate. Of all the openings. They picked Joker for the launch.'
He smiled, just barely. Outside the window, the freeway unspooled toward the desert in long, slow ribbons of red taillights.
---
By the middle of September, the call Lucas had been waiting on for the better part of a year finally came through.
Neil walked into the suite with the phone still pressed to his ear, finished his sentence, and dropped it on the side table. He looked at Lucas the way he sometimes did when the news was already in his face.
"Daria's out."
Lucas was on his feet before Neil finished the second word.
"They cleared her this morning. Federal side signed off. She's free to leave the protective placement and meet with family." Neil exhaled. "Which means Daciana."
Lucas didn't even ask for the rest of the details. "When can I fly?"
"Jet's ready in an hour. I'll have the team mobilized in fifteen."
"Twenty," Lucas said, already moving toward the room to grab a jacket.
...
Brad and Jerry caught up to him in the paddock just as Shawn brought the SUV around. Lucas didn't have to explain much. Brad took one look at his face and the bag in his hand and just opened both palms in a quiet go.
"Family thing?" Jerry asked, walking up alongside.
"Family thing."
"Then you're already wasting time talking to us." Jerry waved him off. "We'll pull Luciano and Craig's coverage forward. The car prep doesn't care which day we shoot what. Go."
Brad clapped him once on the shoulder. "I've got six kids, mate. I know what it looks like when something with one of them just landed. You move out of the way and you let it happen." He stepped back. "Take whatever time you need. We'll be here when you get back."
Lucas nodded. He didn't trust his voice for a full sentence yet, so he just gave both men a hand on the shoulder in turn, climbed into the SUV, and was on the road to the airfield before either of them had turned back to the paddock.
---
The jet was wheels-up out of Palm Springs inside the hour.
Lucas sat at the window seat with a glass of water in his hand that he kept forgetting he was holding. Across from him, Neil worked the phones quietly — confirming the meet at the federal office in Manhattan, confirming the SUV at Teterboro, confirming Jennifer was already at the LK Foundation building on Park Avenue with Daciana.
The sun set over Arizona somewhere in the middle of the flight. Lucas didn't notice it. His mind kept running ahead of the plane, into the room where Daria would be waiting, into the moment Daciana would see her sister for the first time in over a year.
He'd met Daria once before, briefly, through a glass partition months ago. Pale, watchful, careful with every word. The kind of careful that came from having learned the cost of saying the wrong thing.
The first time he'd visited, she hadn't been allowed to speak with him directly — the agents had relayed everything through a coordinator. The second time, she'd been allowed three sentences. The third time, more. He'd watched her get a piece of herself back in increments across those visits, never fast, never trusting it.
Now she was free.
'Hold on, kid. Just a few more hours.'
...
They landed at Teterboro a little after eleven Eastern. The SUV was already at the foot of the stairs.
The drive into Manhattan took just under an hour at that time of night. The federal office was a low, unremarkable building off a side street in lower Manhattan, the kind of place chosen for not being chosen.
Lucas had been here before. He'd never gotten used to it.
The handover happened in a small conference room with the blinds drawn. Special Agent Ruiz was already there waiting with a folder of paperwork.
"Mr. Knight."
"Ruiz."
Ruiz gestured to the chair opposite his. Lucas didn't sit. He couldn't yet.
Ruiz didn't make him. He just opened the folder and walked him through what needed to be walked through.
Daria was being released from federal protective placement effective tonight.
The release was not a closure of the underlying matter — she would still be a material witness in the criminal proceedings, would still be required to make herself available for depositions and testimony as scheduled, would still need to remain reachable through the Bureau's witness liaison for the duration of the case.
Travel would be monitored but not restricted in any meaningful sense. A security review of Lucas's existing detail had been completed and approved. The Foundation's New York branch had been cleared as her primary placement.
"You acknowledge the conditions of release as the placement guardian," Ruiz said, sliding a page across to him. "Sign here, here, and here. Initial at the top of the second page."
Lucas read every line. He signed every line. He didn't hesitate at any of them.
Ruiz took the folder back, closed it, and gave him a small nod.
"She's in the room across the hall. Whenever you're ready."
Lucas let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Thank you."
"For what it's worth, Mr. Knight." Ruiz paused at the door, one hand on the handle. "I've sat across from a lot of guardians in this room. Most of them are good people doing their best. But the way you've shown up for her — and for the sister — that's not standard. Just thought you should hear it from someone who's seen the standard."
Lucas didn't know how to answer that. He just nodded once, and Ruiz opened the door.
---
Daria was sitting on the far side of a plain table in a plain room with a Bureau-issued backpack at her feet.
She looked up when the door opened. For a second, neither of them moved.
She had grown. That was the first thing he noticed. The careful watchfulness was still in her eyes, but her shoulders sat differently than they had the last time he'd seen her — looser, less braced.
Whatever the people working with her had been doing inside this building, some of it had taken.
"Daria," Lucas said quietly.
"Mr. Knight." Her English was clear, the Romanian softening only at the edges of the vowels.
"Lucas. Please."
She nodded slowly. She didn't smile yet. She wasn't ready to.
He crossed the room and crouched down a little so they were closer to eye level across the table, his hands resting flat on the surface so she could see them. "I'm here to take you home tonight. Your sister is waiting for you. Jennifer is with her right now."
Daria's careful expression cracked, just at the edges. Her hand went to the strap of her backpack. "Daciana."
"Daciana."
She stood up. He stood up with her. He extended his hand across the table — not a grand gesture, just an offer — and after a half-second of stillness, she took it.
Her hand was small and cold. He folded it into his and didn't let go.
They walked out of the room together.
---
The drive uptown was quiet. Daria sat next to him in the back of the SUV with her backpack tucked between her feet, looking out the window at the city she had only ever seen in pieces and never freely.
Lucas didn't fill the silence. Some moments didn't need filling.
Neil rode in the front seat, on the phone with the building, confirming that the lobby was clear and the elevator was being held.
By the time they pulled up to 437 Park Avenue, it was almost one in the morning. The street was empty in that particular way Manhattan got at that hour — not deserted, but quiet, the kind of quiet that felt almost reverent.
The night security at the LK Foundation building was waiting at the door. Lucas walked her in with his hand still around hers.
The elevator to the twenty-second floor was a slow one. Daria watched the numbers climb with the same careful watchfulness she'd brought into every room he'd ever seen her in. Lucas glanced down at her once and squeezed her hand a little, just enough that she felt it.
The doors opened.
...
Jennifer was standing in the hallway outside the apartment unit the Foundation kept on the floor.
She'd been waiting for the elevator. She must have heard it from inside.
The moment she saw them step out, her hand went to her mouth.
"Daria," she said, the name coming out almost like a breath.
Daria looked at her, then up at Lucas, then back at Jennifer. She didn't quite know what to do with her face. She'd only ever seen Jennifer on video calls before this.
Lucas let go of Daria's hand for the first time since the federal office. He walked the last few steps to Jennifer and pulled her into him, and Jennifer met him there, her arms going around his neck. They held each other in the hallway for a long moment without speaking, and when he kissed her, it was quiet and brief and full of everything they'd been carrying for the last year.
"You're tired," she whispered.
"I'm not tired."
"You're tired." She rested her forehead against his for a second. Then she stepped back, took his hand, and turned to Daria.
"Hi, sweetheart." Jennifer's voice softened into something Lucas had only ever heard her use with Seraphina. "I'm so happy you're here."
Daria's mouth wobbled. She held it together. Barely.
Jennifer crouched a little. "Daciana's been waiting up for you. She wouldn't sleep. We told her she had to, and she pretended for about ten minutes, and then she opened her eyes and said, 'Daciana will wait.'"
Daria let out a sound that was halfway to a laugh and halfway to a sob.
Jennifer reached out a hand. "Come on."
Daria took it.
They walked together into the apartment.
Daciana was on the couch in the living room with a book in her lap that she hadn't been reading. The lamp beside her was low. Martha was in the armchair across from her, awake, a cup of tea cooling on the side table.
The moment Daria stepped through the doorway, Daciana looked up. For a half-second, she didn't move. Then she made a small, broken sound, dropped the book onto the floor, and ran.
Daria caught her halfway across the room. She went down to her knees and Daciana folded into her and they held each other so tightly that for a few seconds neither of them seemed to be breathing — they just held on, hands in each other's hair, Daciana's face buried in her sister's neck.
Daria was murmuring something in Romanian, fast and broken, and Daciana was answering in the same language, the words coming out in pieces between hitched breaths.
Lucas stood next to Jennifer in the doorway. He didn't realize he was holding her hand until she squeezed his.
He looked at her. Her cheeks were wet.
He didn't trust his own face either.
Neither of them said anything. There was nothing to say. Across the room, two sisters who had been kept apart for a long time were finally back in each other's arms, and the room itself seemed to have gone still around them.
Behind Lucas, near the doorway, Neil had stayed back to give the family the space.
But when Lucas glanced over his shoulder, he saw that even Neil — Neil, who had worked through a stadium shooting, a billion-dollar acquisition, a press cycle from hell, and never once let his face slip in any of them — was standing with his arms crossed and his eyes wet, and he didn't bother to hide it.
He just nodded once at Lucas, the way a man nods at something he doesn't have words for, and looked back down at the floor.
Jennifer leaned her head against Lucas's shoulder.
On the rug, Daciana finally pulled back just enough to look at her sister's face. She put both small hands on Daria's cheeks like she was checking to make sure she was real.
Daria laughed. It came out wet and ragged and beautiful.