Daphne used to be flattered by all this. There had been a time, not long ago, when she would lie awake during sleepless nights and scroll through the various Daphne-related items on the internet. Every time she searched her own name and found more merchandise—action figures, CGI avatars meant to look like her, an oven mitt printed with her wedding ring—it felt as satisfying as drinking from a cool bottle of water, slaking her bottomless thirst for attention.
