Lara's POV
--- I practically stumbled out of the lecture hall, letting out an exasperated sigh, and stretched my arms like I’d just been released from prison. My brain felt like mush after two hours of pure torture. "Oh my god," I groaned, pressing my fingers against my temples. "What an absolute waste of my life," I muttered, shaking my head. "That class was painfully boring… and the professor? Don't even get me started." Every word that Professor talked about had blurred together in my head. How could anyone make Economics this boring? It had to be illegal." I leaned against the cold wall of the corridor, letting my head fall back with a soft thud, as if to shake the drowsiness out of my mind. "Of all the colleges I could have transferred to, Why did I pick this one? I could have just stayed at my old scAiden’s POV I woke up to the shrill sound of my phone ringing. My eyes drifted to Lara, curled up against me like she belonged there, her head tucked into my chest, her breath warm on my skin. She looked too peaceful, too perfect for this moment to be disturbed. Gently, I shifted her away, careful not to wake her. My hand reached for my phone, and my gaze caught the time—almost 5 a.m. On my wedding day. Richard. My soon to be father-in-law. His name glared at me from the screen for the sixth time. I cursed under my breath. The last thing I wanted was to deal with him right now. My thumb hovered over the reject button when the phone rang again. I sighed. Maybe it was important. “Hello,” I muttered, my voice still thick with sleep. He sounded urgent—too urgent. Something in his tone told me I wouldn’t be able to ignore this. I swung my legs off the bed, already grabbing whatever clothes were in reach, shoving them on even though I still had no idea what had happened. I di
Elena’s POV It was past 2 a.m., and I was still wide awake. The soft hum of Paris outside my window was the only sound in the room. I lay on the plush Luxe Vogue bed, staring up at the ornate ceiling, my mind refusing to shut down. I should have been sleeping. Tomorrow was going to be intense—not the wedding but it was going to be another day of rehearsals, networking, and proving I deserved to be here. But I knew why sleep wouldn’t come. My phone had been buzzing for the last hour. Call after call. All from one name: Dad. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. If I gave him the chance, he’d do exactly what I was avoiding—convince me, demand me, order me to come home. And I wasn’t going to let anyone pull me away from this. Not this time. Still… the voicemail notifications kept stacking up. I hesitated before finally tapping on the first one. His voice filled the room. Low. Controlled. The kind of tone that said he was furious but forcing himself to keep calm. >> “Elen
Aiden’s POV The last two days had been hell. Ever since I took Lara out that night… ever since I stood with her under the city lights, feeling her warmth against me, seeing the way her eyes searched mine — it had been impossible to breathe without thinking of her. She had no idea what she was doing to me. Or maybe she did. Maybe she felt it too, the way her gaze lingered just a little too long, the way her voice softened when she spoke to me. And tomorrow… Tomorrow, I was supposed to stand in front of a crowd, smile like I was the happiest man alive, and marry Elena. I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. For two days, I’d been searching for a way out — a way to stop the wedding without destroying my family’s reputation, without dragging Lara into the firestorm. But every path felt like a dead end. Every thought hurt. Every decision seemed impossible. And in the middle of it all, there was her. Always her. Before stepping into the bathroom tonight, I’d been sitting on the
Lara’s POV It had been two days since that night with Aiden. Two days since the city lights blurred into a silent confession neither of us dared to say out loud. After we got home that evening, I couldn’t sleep. I lay awake, replaying every detail — his eyes on me, his jacket draped over my shoulders, the way his voice softened when he said he was glad I was there with him. It wasn’t a dream. I knew it wasn’t. I could still feel the warmth of his hand when he held mine, as if it had branded me. The next morning, he acted… normal. Too normal. Breakfast was the same — coffee in his left hand, newspaper in his right, barely looking up except to ask if I wanted toast. Not a single word about the night before. Not a single hint that it had happened at all. And maybe that hurt more than if he’d just told me it meant nothing. I kept telling myself I should be grateful. We hadn’t crossed a line — not completely. But my heart didn’t care about the technicalities. My heart only kn
Elena’s POV I sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed, the letter still in my hand, the words Private Review Meeting looping in my head. My eyes drifted to the envelope again. Formal dress code. Seven o’clock. Salon Noir. It felt… important. Too important. The other girls had joked earlier in the lounge that their meetings weren’t until the end of the week. So why was mine less than twenty-four hours away? My gaze slid to my phone on the nightstand. That missed call from my father was still there, the voicemail sitting like a stone in my stomach. I picked it up and pressed play. His voice came through, low and controlled, the way it always was when he was masking frustration. > “Elena, it’s your father. I trust you’ve arrived… wherever you said you were going. I’ve already spoken to Aiden today, and he didn’t seem to know you were traveling. We will discuss that later. The wedding arrangements are in place. Your absence at this point could invite… unnecessary speculation
Elena’s POV I turned away from the window and unpacked slowly, methodically. Every piece of clothing was chosen to strike a balance between confidence and seduction. I needed to stand out. I needed to be unforgettable. Because I wasn’t here to play fair. I was here to win. I should’ve felt nervous. Maybe even a little scared. But all I felt was hunger—hunger to win. After freshening up, I lay on the plush bed and pulled out my phone. A missed call from my father. I didn’t open the voicemail. I couldn’t. Not yet. A few minutes later, a welcome letter was slid under my door. It had the official Luxe Vogue seal. I sat up straight and opened it carefully, reading every word like it was a sacred text. --- >>>>>> Dear Contestant, Welcome to the Luxe Vogue Paris Elite Casting Program. You are one of fifteen models selected worldwide to compete for the honor of becoming the new face of Luxe Vogue. Over the next twelve weeks, you will participate in a series of fashion shoot