POV : Camilla
Paris was a beautiful city, especially when you were about to get everything you ever wanted. The crisp morning air smelled of expensive pastries and impending victory, though I hardly noticed the historic architecture as my private car pulled up to the curb. My focus was entirely singular.
I checked my reflection in the towering, pristine glass doors of the United Nations headquarters and allowed a slow, victorious smile to curve my lips. I looked flawless. My blonde hair had been perfectly styled into effortless waves at a salon in the Champs-Élysées just an hour prior. My red lips were glossy and sharp. My designer dress- a custom, crimson silk number that clung to every single one of my curves exactly right- was a masterpiece. I had bought it, along with a matching pai
