Chapter 5

Five Years Later...

"Chin up, Ella. Tilt your head slightly—yes, perfect! Hold that!" The photographer’s voice cut through the air, sharp and fast, as the camera clicked rapidly. The blinding flashes filled the studio, but I was used to it now. My body moved effortlessly, flowing between poses as if on autopilot.

"Eyes to the left, focus on the light," another command came. I complied, adjusting my posture, my lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile.

"Beautiful! You’re killing it!" the stylist chimed in, rushing forward to adjust a stray lock of hair. I barely noticed the brush of her fingers as she fixed my curls, my mind laser-focused on the shoot.

"Ella, darling, give us fierce now," the photographer urged, his tone picking up speed. "Think power, think dominance."

I narrowed my eyes, lifting my chin just a bit higher, a fierce, unbreakable expression crossing my face. I heard the camera shutter go off in rapid succession. It was a dance, a rhythm I had perfected over the last five years.

"Perfect! Now soft... delicate," he continued, his voice a constant pulse in the background.

I exhaled slowly, letting the tension melt away, shifting effortlessly into a softer expression. My hands brushed the side of my face, eyes slightly downcast. The camera kept flashing, capturing every moment.

"Gorgeous! Now show us those eyes—intensity, Ella, give me more!" The intensity of the shoot never let up, but I thrived on it. Every pose, every look, was a mask, a persona I’d perfected. The camera didn’t see the real me. No one did. They didn’t even know my real name, or that I wasn’t even human.

"Okay, Ella, we’re almost there! One more round! More power, just like that!" The photographer’s voice was urgent now, pushing me to give more.

I arched my back, leaning into the next pose, my gaze cutting straight into the lens as if I could see through the camera itself. I imagined myself standing in front of those who had once held me captive, who had scorned me. The anger, the pain—it all surged through me, and I gave it to the camera.

"YES! That’s it!" The excitement in the room was palpable as the final shots were taken.

"And... we’re done! Amazing work, everyone!" The photographer dropped his camera, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. "Ella, as always, you’ve outdone yourself."

I straightened up, rolling my shoulders as I stepped away from the lights, the adrenaline still pumping through me. One of the assistants handed me a towel, and I wiped the sweat from my brow.

"Great shoot, Ella. You’re a natural," the stylist smiled, giving me a thumbs-up as she began packing up her things.

"Thanks," I replied, a practiced smile gracing my lips. The truth was, this life of glamour, flashing lights, and attention was just another mask. One I had worn well over the years. But it didn’t erase the memories. It didn’t erase who I had been.

But for now, it was enough.

"Ella, the client’s absolutely thrilled with the shots," a woman in a crisp suit said as she approached. "They want you for another campaign—this time for their winter line. We’ll discuss the details tomorrow, but they’re prepared to offer a significant deal."

I nodded, pretending to listen as she rattled off details about contracts and figures. All I could think about was how far I had come. I had left that cursed pack behind. I had rebuilt myself.

I got off the stage and walked back to my trailer. It was luxurious, with white and gray accents—just like my life. For a year, I had been living on the streets after escaping. I didn’t have a certificate to show. I had worked at a fast-food place three times, but having a striking appearance didn’t help. I endured stalking and harassment for months. And after a man tried to force himself on me in a dark alley, I had quit. I broke my nose just to at least look mundane, but there was no hiding for me.

I covered myself in dirt and worked in a homeless shelter, and that was when I had been scouted. For the first time in my life, my beauty was not a complete curse. As it turned out, for modeling, I was a natural.

Except for the leering men and the scornful women, I was comfortable. I had no friends though. After Bella’s betrayal, I could trust no one but myself. When it dawned on me that she had made us take a different route to give the guys a chance to assault me, my faith in relationships and friendship died.

I leaned back in the plush chair of my trailer, closing my eyes for just a second, letting the silence wrap around me. The adrenaline from the shoot was still thrumming through my veins, but the weight of it all was starting to settle. My mind drifted, just for a moment, to where I had come from, what I had survived.

A knock on the door broke through my thoughts. "Ella, darling!" My agent, Veronica, burst into the trailer, her stilettos clacking against the floor as she breezed in with the force of a small hurricane. "You were absolutely phenomenal out there. The client is thrilled! You’re a star, as always."

I smiled faintly, accepting the bottle of water she handed me. "Thanks as always, Veronica. Is that all?"

"Actually," she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement, "there’s one more thing. The lead investor for this campaign wants to meet you. Final discussions, you know, the usual. They want your input on the winter line before the big launch."

I raised an eyebrow. "In his office?"

Veronica nodded, her smile tightening just a bit. "Yes, his office. Look, I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not that kind of meeting."

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "Every time you say that, it turns out to be exactly that kind of meeting. Let me guess—he’s booked out a hotel suite, and I’m supposed to smile and nod while he makes creepy suggestions?"

Veronica shook her head. "No, this one is legit. I checked."

"I’ll go," I said after a beat, standing up and grabbing my bag. "But if this turns out to be another sleazy setup, I’m out."

"Promise you, darling, it’s not." Veronica winked, already halfway out the door. "I’ve booked a car for you. The meeting’s in an hour. Don’t be late!"

I smiled for her, faking it. "I won’t."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair.

I grabbed my coat and headed out the door, determined to face whatever awaited me in that office. After all, I wasn’t the scared little girl anymore. I was Ella Stone now—the top model in the industry. Nothing could touch me.

---

The elevator dinged softly as I reached the top floor, stepping out into a lavishly modern office. The receptionist gave me a polite smile before motioning toward a sleek black door at the end of the hall. "He’s expecting you, Ms. Stone."

I nodded, pulling my coat tighter around me, unease creeping up my spine. Something felt off, but I couldn’t place it. The walk down the hallway felt like an eternity, every step echoing, and with each passing second, the tension in my chest grew.

I pushed open the door and was immediately ushered in by a flustered assistant who barely gave me time to glance around the expansive office. "Mr. Fenwick will be with you shortly," she whispered before slipping out and leaving me alone in the room.

The air felt thick, charged with something I couldn’t explain. My eyes drifted to the figure standing by the window, his back turned to me. He was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, his presence commanding even in stillness. I swallowed, an odd sense of familiarity stirring deep within me.

My fingers trembled slightly as I approached, goosebumps rising on my arms. There was something... off. Something that made my instincts scream for me to leave, but my feet kept moving forward.

Then, slowly, the man turned.

My heart stopped.

The air was stolen from my lungs as I took in the sharp jawline, the midnight-black hair falling just as I remembered, and those eyes—deep onyx, piercing, intense. Time collapsed in on itself, and I was no longer Ella Stone, the model. I was Stella, the girl who had been broken, abandoned, rejected.

I stumbled back, nearly tripping over my own feet as the name tumbled out of my mouth. "Silas?"