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In the Photo Studio
The studio lights blazed brightly, cameras flashing in rhythmic bursts. Photographers gave sharp instructions, stylists rushed here and there, and the director shouted orders to maintain the chaotic harmony of the shoot.
"Assistant, bring Jenna in after fifteen minutes," the director called, flipping through the shot list.
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In the Dressing Room
Inside, Jenna stood before a tall mirror, a fashionable knee-length dress from the Watson Group's latest collection draped halfway on her. The assistant girl tugged at the back of the dress, frowning.
"Ma'am, please wait… this is a little tricky to tie. I'll bring the designer of this piece; she can help," the assistant said breathlessly before rushing out.
Moments later, the door opened. The assistant returned with another figure—Alice.
Jenna froze. Alice…? her mind screamed.
Alice, too, halted at the doorway, eyes widening. Why is she here? her thoughts echoed. Her gaze flicked to the assistant. Leaning close, she whispered, "Is she the model?"
The assistant nodded.
Alice's lips curled into a sly smile. I knew it. Mom planned this… what is she trying to do? She smirked while locking eyes with Jenna, making her even more unsettled.
Why is she staring at me like that…? Jenna thought, her brows knitting.
Alice's voice cut through the tension. "Here's the guidance for tying this dress. Help her properly." She turned as if to leave.
But the assistant struggled again, fingers fumbling with the stubborn ties. "It's still not working…"
Jenna exhaled in disbelief. How rude she is… walking away like that.
Just then, a knock sounded at the door.
"Is Jenna ready?" It was the director's assistant.
Alice quickly answered, her voice calm but commanding. "Yes… give me five more minutes."
The assistant left, and silence thickened in the dressing room. Alice then stepped closer, her expression unreadable. Her fingers moved quickly, deftly tying the back of the dress with a professional's ease.
"There," she said softly, before turning and leaving without another glance.
The assistant sighed in awe. "Wow… she tied it so beautifully. She's really professional."
Jenna's eyes lingered on her reflection. The dress hugged her form perfectly now. She may be cold… but undeniably skilled, Jenna admitted in her heart.
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In the Photo Studio
The cameras clicked again and again as Jenna posed with elegance, confidence radiating from her like a true star. Every tilt of her chin, every flicker of her smile carried grace.
Alice stood at the corner, watching quietly. She's more elegant than I expected. My design suits her… almost too well.
Jenna took a five-minute break, sipping water. A male makeup artist approached her with his kit.
"Where is Lina?" Jenna asked, puzzled.
"She had an emergency call, so I'll be fixing your makeup instead," the man replied smoothly.
At first, Jenna ignored the discomfort of his touch. Once, twice—she brushed it off. But when his hands lingered again, rough and improper, her patience snapped.
Smack!
Her palm connected with his cheek, the sound echoing through the studio. Everyone froze.
"What's happening here?!" The director rushed over.
Jenna's chest heaved. "He—he crossed the line."
The director's face darkened, turning on the artist. "How dare you?! You're finished here!"
Embarrassed, the man bowed stiffly, but as he walked away, his eyes burned with resentment, glaring at Jenna.
Jenna's voice rang clear, unwavering. "Why are you angry? I'm the one who should be. I don't want to see him here again."
The Watson's group manager stepped forward, bowing. "We sincerely apologize, Miss Jenna. We'll take strict action."
Jenna softened. "Never mind… mistakes happen. But one thing—be careful when you hire employees."
A little farther away, someone had been watching. A tall woman with dark red lipstick, glowing beneath the lights, whispered with an approving smile, "She is impressive…"
Behind her, Alice approached, eyes glinting. "Yes, Mom. She is."
Angela—Alice's mother—smiled wider.
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In Another Photo Studio
Meanwhile, in the adjoining hall, Ameya's solo photoshoot had just wrapped up. The director clapped his hands. "Good job, Ameya! Next, we'll take couple shots with Rico—after twenty minutes."
Ameya's heart fluttered. She turned to her assistant, almost childlike in her giddiness. "Is Rico ready?"
"He's still getting dressed, Ma'am," the assistant replied.
Excitement rushed through her veins. My first time as a brand ambassador… and it's for Rico's mother's company. She still couldn't believe it. To ground herself, she pinched her arm, wincing at the sting before breaking into a smile.
While she strolled casually across the studio, her phone rang. It was her mother, and she answered with a cheerful voice. Her assistant offered, "I'll bring you a soft drink, Ma'am."
Ameya nodded, still on the call.
Above her, the massive studio light flickered faintly. No one noticed. Ameya had drifted a little away from the crew when suddenly—
"Ameya!" someone shouted.
She looked up just in time to see the heavy light fixture hurtling down toward her. Her body froze, too shocked to react.
But before she could scream, a strong pair of arms grabbed her, pulling her into a protective embrace. They moved swiftly to the side as the light crashed to the ground with a deafening shatter.
Glass shards sprayed everywhere, bouncing across the floor. The person shielding her tightened their hold, covering Ameya completely, taking the cuts upon themselves.
Ameya's eyes widened, her breath catching. Slowly, she looked up at her rescuer's face.
It was a woman.
Her elegant features, calm aura, and the unmistakable authority in her eyes made Ameya's heart race.
It was Clara Herman. Rico's mother.
Ameya's lips parted in shock, her entire body trembling as realization sank in.
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To be continued…
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