They Mocked My Fatness, I’m a Supermodel Now

Chapter 3

At 10 a.m., I headed to Elite's New York headquarters.

Once we finished signing the contract, Megan handed me one of the copies.

"This is a global exclusive contract," she said. "The company has only offered terms of this level to three supermodels in the last five years. After we make the official announcement at 8 p.m. tonight, tons of people will be gunning for you, hoping to take you down to climb the ranks themselves."

I tucked the contract away carefully. "Including Helena?"

Megan let out a sharp, sarcastic laugh. "Her? She's submitted her resume eight times in a row, and she couldn't even get past the first screening. She went so far as to pull strings to ask if our system was deliberately rigged against her. If she finds out Elite signed you? She'll probably have a full-on meltdown the second she hears the news tonight."

Right then, my phone buzzed. Helena had posted a photo of a hotel private room in our group chat.

The old sweatshirt I'd worn back in high school was hung front and center in the room. Next to it sat a digital scale. Two chairs had been pushed together to make one extra-wide seat. A piece of paper was taped to the back of the makeshift chair: Lucy's special extra-wide seat.

The group chat blew up with jokes.

Classmate A: Helena is so thoughtful, isn't she?

Classmate B: Wait, are two chairs even enough? Should we add a third?

Classmate C: Nah, don't add another. If we do, they'll charge us for a whole conference table instead of a private booth.

Helena tagged me directly in the chat.

Helena: Lucy, we've got everything ready over here. Don't let all of us down, okay?

I didn't reply. I just saved the photo to my phone.

None of those people had a clue that tonight, Elite wouldn't just be announcing my signing. We'd also be dropping the news that I'd landed the global brand ambassador deal for Muse Beauty.

Helena had dreamed of getting that endorsement for ages. She'd even recorded a whole self-nomination video and sent it to the brand's official email, only to get radio silence in return. And what did I get? I was the youngest global ambassador in the entire history of the brand.

Later that afternoon, a makeup artist showed up at the office to do my makeup trial. The black velvet gown clung to every curve of my body, and its deep V, backless cut made my shoulder blades look like a pair of folded wings.

The second I stepped out of the fitting room, the whole room went dead silent.

The makeup artist snapped out of her daze and grabbed her phone right away. "Hold that pose, I have to get a shot of this. That back, that neck and shoulder line? They're so unreal."

Megan crossed her arms and looked me up and down, clearly pleased with what she saw. "Perfect. You won't even need to say a word tonight. Just stand there, and you'll leave every last one of them completely stunned."

She had someone snap a few photos, picked out the best one, and sent it over to the promotions department. In the photo, I was standing sideways in front of the floor-to-ceiling window. The backlight traced out my slim, almost sharp waistline, and the outline of my shoulder blades was sharp and clear.

The official announcement copy was all set too, external media text reading: Welcome supermodel Lucy to the Elite family!

There was also a simultaneous announcement: Lucy is now the global brand spokesperson for Muse Beauty.

It was set to drop sharp at 8 p.m.

I was still looking over the copy when Dominic suddenly shot me a text.

Dominic: Lucy, are you actually coming or not? My girlfriend's already here.

Right after that, he sent a photo of the two of them together. In the picture, the girl was wearing a short white dress, leaning against his shoulder, looking willowy and slender.

Dominic added another text.

Dominic: Her name is Sophie. She's pretty straightforward, so don't get all sensitive when you get here, okay?

I snorted a laugh. I hadn't even showed up yet, and he was already making excuses for his girlfriend's planned meanness. I didn't bother replying.

Moments later, a live video popped up in the group chat.

Helena was standing next to the scale, holding my old high school sweatshirt in her hand. "When Lucy gets here, first we'll invite her to hop on the scale. If she's heavier than she was in high school, Dominic doesn't even have to bother carrying her, we don't want anyone dying on the spot."

The camera panned to Dominic.

He had an arm slung around Sophie, and he huffed a lazy, amused laugh. "Hey, I'll take that win."

Sophie giggled behind her hand. "Oh, don't say that. She's had a crush on you for three whole years. She'd crawl here on her hands and knees tonight if she had to."

The entire private room erupted into raucous cackles and howls of laughter.

I closed the video and dropped it into the same folder as Helena's voice recording.

Megan saw what I was doing, and her face hardened. "You sure you don't want me to send a couple of guys with you?"

"No, I'm good." I picked up the earrings on the table, a pair of luxury high jewelry earrings, and slid them slowly into my ears.

I'd waited five years for this reunion. I wanted to see for myself the look on those people's faces when they recognized me, the same people who'd cornered me in the bathroom back in high school.

At 6:50, my driver texted to say the car was already waiting downstairs.

Megan draped a coat over my shoulders. "The penthouse gala starts at 7:50. Don't stay too long. And remember, you're a supermodel. When you walk in that room, act like it's your runway."

I stepped into the elevator, my stilettos clicking sharply against the floor. At five foot eleven plus four inches of heel, my eyes were almost level with the safety sign on the elevator ceiling.

Just as the elevator doors slid shut, another message from Helena popped up in the group chat.

Helena: Lucy, that extra-wide seat we saved just for you is still totally free!

I glanced at the message and didn't bother replying.

Forty minutes left.

Let them laugh all they want right now. After all, the clock's already ticking on how much longer they get to be happy.