"Come up to the rooftop." — From Spencer.Monica's heart skipped. He’s back.A strange weight settled in her chest—excitement tangled with unease. It hadn’t even been 48 hours, yet it felt like she was about to face a complete stranger.She could easily stay where she was, sipping her drink and watching unfamiliar faces flit by. But her legs moved before her doubt could anchor her.“I want to make a call,” she said to Diane, who nodded, distracted by her glass.“Should I get a staff member to show you around?” Diane offered.Monica shook her head. “I just need a quick minute.”“I’ll walk with you,” Brad said, rising as he grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair.“No, don’t worry. I’ll be quick.” She flashed a smile, too hurried to make it convincing, then turned and walked away.Inside the elevator, she hit the button for the highest floor. Her thoughts scattered, tangled with nerves. By the time the elevator dinged, her heart was pounding."Approach the restricted zone. The sec
Spencer’s jaw clenched.A moment or more passed.Then he stood—slowly.The scraping of his chair echoed over the music, drawing Max’s attention.“Say that again,” Spencer said, voice low. Muscle tensed Max blinked, caught off guard. “Relax, man. I was just joking—”Spencer grabbed him by the collar. Pulled him halfway across the table.“Joking? I flew my ass here to help you with your company,” Spencer snapped, Max grabbing his collar too. “If you don’t want to return the favor, just say it—instead of trying to manipulate me into backing off.”Max didn’t flinch. His voice came out low. “Don’t make this about that.”Max’s grip tightened as he continued. “I am making it about you. Because I’m your friend—and I won’t stand by and watch you destroy your life over one woman. You deserve better than this, Spencer.”“You think she’s just some fling I need to get over?” Spencer’s voice barely rose above a whisper—but the pain in it was louder than any shout. Max heard it, felt it.Max sighed
Monica's eyes trailed the dress before her, the spotlight already drawing attention to her. The murmurs of the crowd faded into a low hum as all eyes settled on her—waiting.Tucked between the folds of the gown was a small card. She plucked it out with careful fingers.The rest of the accessories are held by the models.Her pulse steadied. She knew what to do.Straightening her shoulders, Monica lifted the gown and walked gracefully to the center of the stage. Her heels clicked in rhythm with the hush that swept over the crowd. With a gentle motion, she twirled the dress around her once—its fabric catching the light like liquid silk. A collective gasp rippled through the audience.A chair and hanger stood just a few paces away, as if anticipating her presence. The spotlight followed every step she made, bathing her in a soft golden glow as she approached. With poise, Monica hung the dress delicately, then sank onto the chair with elegance, crossing one leg over the other, her posture
Immediately Monica slipped behind the curtains, her eyes landed on Manager Harry and Brad. "Long time no see, Manager Harry?" She gave him an inquisitive gaze. Manager Harry avoided her eyes. "I've been busy trying to get you the best media awareness. Cut me some slack." "For being the worst manager? I’ll totally give you credit." Brad smiled. "Don’t tell me you’re debuting a towel." Monica rolled her eyes. "Not funny. What are you doing here, anyway?" "You should’ve just laughed. I just wanted to wish you lunch before the big walk." Brad handed her a box she hadn’t even noticed he was holding. She took it from him, eyeing it curiously. "What’s this?" "Your good luck charm." Monica raised a brow as she opened the box. Her eyes stayed glued to the locks of hair inside. "Those are Tia Tia’s. She wanted you to have them," he murmured softly. Monica’s gaze lingered on the thick brown hair longer than it should’ve, memories drifting into her mind. FLASHBACK "Y
"Do you trust the team?" Lake extended his hand toward Monica, who looked hesitant at first.Her eyes lingered on his face for a moment—or more. Her heart pounded under the pressure. Everyone expected perfection, but she felt so unprepared. And this show… this moment… it could make or break her.But in that moment, it was his Lake's calm she focused on."I trust you." She extended her hand and grabbed his, fingers tightening slightly, as if drawing strength from him.Diane came forward with a tense smile, her clipboard clutched for support. "We have never tried anything like this before, but the other brands seem to have taken every idea already."Monica’s breath hitched. The fashion week seems to be more competitive this season. Everyone had pulled out tricks. Could she really pull this off without falling short?"We are going to own the spotlights today and nothing can change that," Lake said reassuringly, his voice confident enough to break through the mind of doubt.Diane nodded.
Spencer fell on the bed after a tense conversation with his bodyguard. His investigator had pulled up everything on Brad—and now he almost regretted it.Turns out Brad and Monica were really close. Too close.If Liam hadn’t come into the picture...“She probably would have ended up with him,” he muttered under his breath.His laptop was still playing footage of the living room, but Monica and Brad were gone.He blinked, sat up—just as Max walked out of the bathroom in comfy clothes.Max jumped on the bed. “What are you thinking about, Spencer?”“The door is extremely not soundproof,” Spencer snapped, not looking at him. “So keep your adventures quiet.”Max chuckled. “Sorry, man.”“Shut up. Stop making it feel weird.”Max laughed again. “You know, after you found out I was gay, you never treated me differently.”Spencer dropped back on the bed. “Is it time to get emotional because you’ve got the best kind of friend?”“I mean... I was expecting you to treat me differently,” Max shrugged