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Gavin

Celine got the news. This morning, every time my phone rang or beeped or an unknown international number flashed on my screen, it notified me that supermodel Celine was dying to have a chat with me. For the first time in a long time, she called me, chasing after me like a mad dog; otherwise, it was always me looking for her, following her around the world just to have a moment with her. It looked like I had turned the table this time. The game was finally favoring me.

I didn’t receive any of her calls as I was under an enormous pile of labor from this morning. The first thing I needed to do was to make a place for Lauren in this “high society circle” so they didn’t eat her alive whenever she went to any of the gatherings, social events, parties, or charities.

It wasn’t that everyone who was born with a silver spoon in their mouth did something remarkable that helped the country or the people clapped their hands until they hurt; there was nothing like that. The world’s population’s mos
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