---
Afterward, backstage was a blur of champagne and congratulations.
Sonia hugged me. Natasha high-fived me.
"You’re an angel now, Brit!" Sonia shouted over the noise.
"You freaking killed it!" Natasha agreed, laughing. Before joining Corine in her seat.
I laughed with them.
Laughed until my cheeks hurt.
Laughed until I wanted to cry.
---
Outside, my mother was waiting in a black SUV, beaming.
"You did it," she said, hugging me tightly.
"You looked thin. You looked perfect. I’m so proud."
I nodded.
I smiled.
I lied again.
Because I hadn’t won anything.
I had just lost the last real pieces of myself.
Chapter 8
Brittany
The afterglow of the Victoria’s Secret show hadn’t even settled before my mother started talking about what came next.
“You were phenomenal,” she said with a tight smile. “But now it’s time to stop playing in the sand. You need to start building a castle.”
I was still in my robe, glitter stuck in my hairline, my feet aching from those impossible stilettos. I’d just met Corinne Wolds and Natasha backstage, hugged them like we’d known each other for years. I was buzzing, my nerves high but my heart full.
But my mother’s tone grounded me in a way nothing else could.
“He’s the one who launched three of Hollywood’s biggest names,” she said. “He’s discreet. Powerful. Married. But that’s not our business. His name is Young.”
“Mom, can’t this wait? I just got off stage. I want to celebrate,” I said, my voice barely audible over the sound of my makeup being wiped off by an assistant.
She pulled me aside, her perfectly manicured nails digging into my arm.
“You don’t get to celebrate yet, Brittany. You haven’t made it. This is a ladder, not a victory lap. We climb, remember?”
I nodded, not because I agreed but because disagreeing with her was like screaming into a storm.
Young’s hotel was at the top of Manhattan, a presidential suite in a glass building that watched over the city like a vulture.
He opened the door with a wide smile, wearing a white button-down, top three buttons undone, and a watch that probably cost more than most people’s cars.
