Christine's P.O.V.
Just like Brenda said… I cried blood.
I trained until my muscles ached and burned, until I felt like they might snap from the strain. Then, I'd walk the runway again and again, over and over until I got it right. Whenever Serena showed up to observe, she cranked the intensity up to a hundred, correcting my posture with sharp taps from a slim rod on my calves, arms, and even my backside. No part of the training was soft.
But it wasn't just about how I walked. Serena drilled me on etiquette—how to eat, how to speak, and how to carry myself. I wasn't even allowed to eat alone. Every meal was taken with her so that she could monitor my adherence to the nutrition plan.
A couple of times, I brought my triplets along to dine with us. She clearly wasn't thrilled about it at first, but my boys—sweet, well-behaved, and charming—had a way of winning people over. And surprisingly, they won her over faster than I had expected.
Soon, Serena began waiting for us with my enormo
