Chapter 1

Valda pov

The moment my phone rang, my heart jumped It was Mr. Turner, my soon to be sponsor. I quickly answered the phone, wiping off my tears.

“Hello, Mr. Turner,” I said, forcing a smile into my voice.

But his tone was flat, almost cold. “Valda, I’m calling to let you know I won’t be sponsoring your fashion line anymore.”

It felt as if somebody had punched me in the face. My throat tightened. “What? No—please, Mr. Turner, you can’t do this. You promised. I’ve worked so hard for it."

“I can’t risk my name being linked with you after what happened,” he said sharply. “That scene with Alexander MaCarro is all over the news. People are talking. I can’t afford that kind of scandal.”

“Please,” I whispered, my heart was heavy “It was a mistake. I promise you that it won't happen again."

But he cut me off. “My decision is final. I wish you luck, Valda.”

And just like that, he hung up.

I stood frozen, staring at the screen. My hand shook, and the phone fell from my fingers onto the bed. Everything I had dreamed of—everything I had sacrificed for—was crumbling right in front of me.

It had all started from the runway show that happened earlier this night..........

Tonight was the runway show, my only chance to impress my soon to be sponsor. I got ready, fixed my makeup, and put on my best dress.

 Then I left for the venue, praying that he would like the designs and would agree to fund my fashion line.

The hall buzzed with life when I arrived. Designers rushed about, models laughed and posed in front of the cameras that were flashing. Normally, I would have felt proud to be a part of it all, but tonight my stomach churned. I kept my head down and tried to slip inside unnoticed.

That was when I bumped into someone—hard. My eyes shot up, and my heart sank.

Alexander.

He stood there, tall and arrogant, dressed in an expensive suit. He had in that smile that had haunted me for so many years.

“Well, well,” he drawled. “If it isn’t Valda. Still fiery, I see.”

I glared at him, anger rising in my chest. I didn’t have the patience for his games tonight. I had clothes to try on and a sponsor to impress.

 “Move,” I hissed, pushing past him.

But his low chuckle followed me inside, making me more angrier than I already was.

I went straight to the changing room where my partner was giving out the clothes to tbe model to wear. 

The woman turned, a fake smile spread across her lips, that kind that one would have before spoiling your day.  bad news. “I’m sorry, Valda. We had to give your model slot to someone else.”

My heart dropped. “What? No. You can’t do that. I’ve been preparing for months!”

“I really am sorry,” she said, lowering her voice. “But there’s nothing I can do.”

I stumbled back, fighting tears. Why was everything going wrong? Why did the universe seem determined to crush me?

I wanted to run home and hide, but I stayed. Maybe, if I stayed around, I could still talk to someone—maybe find a new sponsor. So I sat in the crowd, pretending to watch the show while silently begging the heavens for a miracle.

 When I turned, my stomach twisted. It was Alexander and he was walking towards me. I wanted to run, but my legs stayed put. I had been dodging him for five years, it was high time I stood up to him.

“Why so gloomy?” he asked, taking a seat beside me as if he owned it. 

"Can you just leave me alone?" I hisssd.

"Come in Valda, are you still angry? I thought we were having fun?" 

The memory of five years ago burned in my chest. One night. Just one reckless night with him had cost me almost everything—my reputation, my career, my peace. And now he dared to suggest it again?

“You haven’t changed,” I snapped, standing up. “Still the same selfish bastard.”

His smile widened. “And you haven’t lost your fire. That’s why I like you.”

My hand moved before I could think. The slap echoed, sharp and loud, turning heads around us. His cheek reddened instantly, but he only smirked harder.

Everybody gasped, with cameras flashing in our direction. My hand stung, but not as much as my pride.

By the time I got home, I felt very bad and broken. I barely noticed my sister, Vanessa, until she grabbed my wrist.

“Valda,” she said, her eyes wide with panic. “You need to see this.”

“What now?” I asked, too exhausted to care about whatever she had to show me.

She shoved her phone into my hands. And there it was.

The video. The slap. Not just tonight, but the earlier one too. Both moments, captured in perfect clarity.

Headlines screamed at me from the screen:

“Designer Slaps Alexander MaCarro in Public—Twice!”

“Valda: Violent or Passionate?”

“The City’s Most Eligible Bachelor Humiliated.”

My face was everywhere. Every news outlet, every blog, every gossip page. The comments were vicious.

“She’s unstable.”

“She ruined her career.”

“Who does she think she is, hitting Alexander MaCarro?”

The phone fell from my hand. My chest ached, my eyes stung, and my whole body trembled.

“Why?” I whispered, tears streaming down my cheeks. “Why is everything falling apart?”

As always, he had succeeded in ruining my life, now the little image I had online was being dragged through the mud.

I buried my face in my hands, wishing I could disappear. But somewhere deep down, I knew this wasn’t the end. Alexander wouldn’t let it be.

And that terrified me more than anything else.