Gurrrrl, we don’t need those. We’re the millionaires.
That was the only reason she could afford this long hiatus. Her acting gig had paid well, but her modeling contracts made her a millionaire before her twentieth birthday.
She’d left home at sixteen to chase a dream. Making a name for herself in the industry, landing big campaigns, walking in fashion week, being on the cover of some of the top magazines in the industry. Of course, being in control and out from under the thumb of her overbearing, traditional family.
She got lucky when Chanel’s creative director had seen her walk in a show. He thought she had the classic look they needed for their upcoming season. Landing that contract had been her first big paycheck, and taste of financial independence. After that, her career catapulted. She’d just turned seventeen.
Nikki
LMFAO, so true. K, love you, sis. Gotta run. Early photoshoot tomorrow.
Nikki hadn’t had that kind of luck, but she got steady work and slowly climbed the ladder of her own.
At twenty-five, they were getting old for the business, but they both had bankrolls that spoke to their successes.
Her heart squeezed at the memory of the past photoshoots she’d done with Nikki. There were a lot of good times with her and Landon.
Vanessa
Xoxo 4eva
Vanessa
Landon, proof of life!?
Nikki
He’s probably at Vibe, lost under a pile of women.
Ugh, more nostalgia. Vibe was their favorite club in New York City. The three of them used to go every chance they got. Late nights dancing, drinking, and having fun before stumbling home to their shared apartment.
They’d lived together until Vanessa was nineteen, which was when she’d moved in with her very first boyfriend, Noah, and her life pretty much nose-dived from there.
She drowned out the memories with a few minutes of meaningless scrolling before a notification flashed across the screen letting her know she’d been tagged in yet another comment.
Her stomach dropped as she scrolled away from it, but not before she caught a glimpse of the comment:slut, you deserve everything coming to you.
Her pulse quickened as a familiar knot of anxiety tightened in her belly. Letting the world fade to black, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose, like heryoga instructor had told her to. In for five counts, out for five counts through the mouth.
Comments like these were nothing new. She’d been dealing with them since she started making a name for herself in her late teens. Developing a thick skin had been a necessity. Still, she was human first, and the constant barrage of negativity got to everyone eventually.
When she opened her eyes again, she was staring at the roses, the velvety petals soft and inviting. Maybe they were from someone who cared? A moment of kindness in a sea of abuse. On instinct, she snapped a quick picture, zooming in on the flowers, and added it to her stories with the caption:
Thank you for the beautiful roses and love. You know who you are.
Take that, trolls. She wouldn’t let them ruin her vibe. Time to focus on the people who cared.
But as she stared at the screen, a strange chill gnawed at her. Something didn’t quite add up. Doubt rippled through her. Something about the flowers, the card. The way they were propped at her doorway.
Before she could even finish thinking about it, another notification pinged, this time from an unfamiliar user account. Against better judgment, she opened it.
I’m glad you liked the roses. I’m just getting started.
Her heart skipped a beat, then another as her gaze fixed on the screen.
She shouldn’t have opened it. But now that she had, she couldn’t look away.
CHAPTER EIGHT
