Coffee decoy—check. Hypnotizing patterned pumps paired with a sleek black dress—check. All I had to do now was meet Madam Lorenski in Room 12 and make my case to the head of Sera Elganza about why I was fit to be a designer's assistant. I leaned toward the mirror, giving my freshly applied makeup one last inspection, and let myself imagine how close I was to living big in L.A. I could move out of Aunt Milly's zoo-house—no monkeys lunging out of cupboards, no snakes slithering under the bed. I could escape her eccentric vegan friends who treated kale like a religion. With the salary Lorenski promised, I could finally rent and design my own apartment. Everything I'd ever wanted—everything I'd dreamed of and worked for—was finally within reach.
It sounded too good to be true. But it was about to happen. All I had to do was focus on everything Lorenski had drilled into me—and not on the warning sirens in my head, or the knots in my stomach, telling me something wasn't right.