The Devil's Favorite

CHAPTER 1

Fame.

Thirty million views.

I stared at the number on my phone for the fifth time, convinced that if I blinked, it would disappear.

30,309,414 views.

My runway walk for Dior's London fashion show had officially crossed thirty million views overnight.

And somehow, that number still didn't feel real.

“Why are you still gawking? Stop staring at your phone.”

I looked up from my phone.

My French-British Manager, Clair, stood across the hotel suite with her arms crossed, watching me with an amused smile.

“I can't help it.”

I replied, She looked at me in disbelief before pouring my glass a whiskey.

“You've checked it five times.”

“Six.”

She rolled her eyes.

I laughed.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, London glittered beneath the evening sky. The city looked almost unreal from

This high up—tiny headlights moving through the streets, buildings glowing against the darkness.

And somewhere down there, people were still talking about me.

Elara Calyxta Saywer.

The girl who had just walked for Dior.

The model whose final turn had been replayed millions of times.

My phone buzzed again.

Another notification.

Then another.

@VogueRunway mentioned you.

Dior tagged you in a post.

Your runway clip is trending worldwide.

I smiled.

“This is insane.”

“You deserve it.”

Clair walked over and took the phone from my hand before I could check another notification.

“Tonight, you celebrate.”

She handed me a glass of champagne.

I raised an eyebrow.

“You know I don't drink much.”

“One glass won't kill you.”

I accepted it.

“To thirty million?”

“To thirty million.”

Our glasses touched.

I took a small sip.

For a moment, I let myself enjoy it.

The lights.

The champagne.

The success.

The feeling that every sacrifice had finally been worth it.

I had spent years working for moments like this.

Early call times.

Endless fittings.

Bruised feet.

Strict diets.

Rejections.

People telling me I wasn't tall enough, thin enough, memorable enough.

And now?

Thirty million people had watched me walk.

My name was everywhere.

My career was finally where I'd always dreamed it would be.

I looked down at my phone again.

A message appeared.

Unknown Number:

Enjoy tonight, Elara.

My smile faded.

"What the f**k?"

I stared at the screen.

Another message appeared almost immediately.

You won't have much left to celebrate soon.

My fingers tightened around the phone.

“Clair?”

She looked at me.

“What?”

I turned the screen toward her.

Her expression changed.

The celebration suddenly felt very far away.

And for the first time that night, I had the strange feeling that someone had been watching me long before I ever noticed them.