Evelyn POV
The changing room felt smaller than it had minutes ago.
Not physically—nothing about the space had changed. The mirrors were still mounted in clean rows, the benches still aligned neatly, garment bags hanging in quiet order. But the air had shifted. Thickened. Tightened.
I could feel it before I saw her.
Selene slammed her garment bag onto the bench opposite mine.
The sound cracked through the room like a warning.
I didn't look up immediately. I finished unbuttoning the sleeves of the dress I'd worn, folded it carefully, and set it aside. My movements were slow, deliberate. Not careless. Not rushed.
"You think you're clever," Selene said.
There it was.
I finally lifted my head and met her reflection in the mirror.
Her eyes were sharp, bright with anger she hadn't bothered to disguise. Her posture was still perfect—she never lost that—but there was something frantic underneath it now, like she'd lost control of a narrative she'd already written in her head.
"If you're going to say something," I replied calmly, "say it directly."
She laughed, sharp and humorless. "Oh, I will."
Lina stiffened beside me. I felt it before she spoke.
"Selene," Lina said quietly, "don't—"
"You don't get to speak for her," Selene snapped, turning on Lina briefly before facing me again. "You don't get to sit there and act like what you said wasn't a direct attack."
"It wasn't," I said.
She scoffed. "Please. You knew exactly what you were doing."
I stood, slowly, and turned to face her fully.
"I spoke about myself," I said evenly. "If you heard yourself in my words, that's not my responsibility."
Her jaw tightened.
"You walked in here with nothing," Selene said, stepping closer. "No experience. No reputation. And suddenly you think you deserve to stand in the same room as people who have worked for this?"
"I worked for this," I replied. "Just not where you were looking."
She laughed again, louder this time. "By playing the victim?"
Lina stepped forward. "That's enough."
Selene ignored her.
"You think humility is impressive," Selene continued. "You think being quiet makes you dangerous."
"I don't think that at all," I said.
"Then what do you think?" she demanded.
I met her gaze without flinching. "I think confidence doesn't need to announce itself."
The silence that followed was immediate.
Heavy.
Selene's eyes burned.
For a second, I thought she might actually step closer—might cross that invisible line between words and something worse.
Instead, she smiled.
It wasn't pretty.
"Enjoy it while it lasts," she said softly. "People like you don't survive places like this."
"People like me?" I asked.
She leaned in, just enough for only me to hear.
"People who forget their place."
I didn't respond.
I didn't need to.
She grabbed her bag and stormed out of the room, heels striking the floor like punctuation marks on a sentence she hadn't finished.
The door swung shut behind her.
Lina let out a breath she'd clearly been holding.
"Well," she said carefully, "that escalated."
I reached for my phone.
My hands were steady.
Lina watched me type. "Calling Liora?"
"Yes."
"Good."
The call connected almost immediately.
"We're done," I said. "Can you pull up?"
"Already moving," Liora replied. "Five minutes."
I hung up and exhaled.
Only then did I feel it—the residual tremor in my chest, the delayed impact of adrenaline. Not fear. Just the aftershock of standing your ground when someone tries to push you back into a smaller shape.
Lina touched my arm gently. "You okay?"
"I will be," I said honestly.
She nodded. "She hates losing control."
"Then she's going to be very unhappy in this industry," I replied.
We changed in silence after that.
Not awkward. Just thoughtful.
When we stepped out of Halcyon's doors, the air outside felt lighter. Cooler. Like the building had been holding its breath the entire time we were inside.
Liora's car pulled up right on cue.
She leaned across and pushed the door open before I even reached it.
"Get in," she said. "You look like you need air."
I slid into the seat and shut the door.
The car pulled away smoothly.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then Liora glanced at me. "So. How bad?"
"Selene bad," I replied.
She groaned. "Oh no. The confident-arrogant-threatened-by-your-existence type?"
"That's the one."
Liora shook her head. "They always implode."
"She didn't," I said. "Not yet."
Liora smirked. "Give it time."
I leaned my head back against the seat, watching the city pass by through the window. The tension in my shoulders slowly loosened as distance grew between me and that room.
"I don't regret what I said," I admitted.
"You shouldn't," Liora replied. "You didn't tear anyone down. You just refused to be smaller."
"That's what scares people," I said quietly.
"Good," she said. "Let them be scared."
By the time we reached home, the weight had lifted.
The door closed behind us. Shoes came off. Familiar quiet wrapped around me.
I stood in the middle of the living room for a second, then smiled—small, real, unforced.
Not because I'd won anything.
But because someone had tried to make me feel less.
And failed.
For now, that was enough.