You didn’t expect to actually meet Wallace Bryton.

He was exactly how he sounded on the podcast—confident, loud, smiling like he owned every room he walked into. The meet-and-greet was casual, crowded, full of people who wanted selfies and sarcasm.

When it was finally your turn, you didn’t pull out your phone.

“You’re quieter than I expected,” Wallace said, smirking. “Nervous?”

“No,” you replied. “Just disappointed.” That got his attention.

“Disappointed?” He laughed, leaning back like this was already material. “That’s a first.”

“You don’t listen to people,” you said calmly.

“You collect them.”

The smile stayed on his face—but it stiffened.

“Careful,” Wallace said lightly. “You’re starting to sound like you want to be interesting.”

“I don’t,” you said. “I want you to understand what you’re doing.”

He chuckled. “Oh, this is good. What am I doing?”

“You find people who are lonely, desperate, or strange,” you continued. “You push them until they crack—and then you turn that into content. You call it storytelling. But you never stay long enough to deal with the damage.”

For the first time, Wallace didn’t interrupt. “That guy last week?” you added. “The one you kept mocking for believing his story mattered? You didn’t hear fear. You heard entertainment.”

Wallace laughed again—but it was louder now. Defensive.

“Relax,” he said. “They agree to be on the show. No one’s forcing them.”