Alisha stepped onto the platform—an elevated runway in the center of the room, surrounded by lights, cameras, and judges seated to the side.
She walked to the edge, her heels clicking sharply with every step. She paused, struck a pose, and then began her walk.
Her movements were smooth, measured, confident.
Her long legs glided effortlessly in her crimson heels. Her dress, a silky black number that ended mid-thigh, fluttered slightly with every step, revealing the full strength and elegance of her stride.
The other girls stared, awestruck.
She wasn't just walking. She was commanding. Dominating.
A walking phoenix, risen from ashes, striding across the runway like it was her throne room.
The photographers snapped rapidly.
Even Megan leaned forward slightly, lips parting as if to say something—but instead, she made a note on her clipboard.
From the side of the room, Katherine stiffened.
That walk. That aura. That face.
