Vanessa’s POV
The studio lights were blinding.
I sat on the stool, legs crossed, chin tilted slightly up, the fabric of my dress spilling around me like liquid gold. The makeup artists had spent hours perfecting my face, my hair was pulled back into an elegant updo, and the diamond earrings hanging from my ears were worth more than most people made in a year.
I was the perfect picture of beauty. Of power. Of everything I had worked so hard to be.
And yet…
"Vanessa, can you smile a little? Just a small one?" the photographer asked hesitantly, adjusting his lens.
I moved my eyes to him, unimpressed.
"Take the shot." My voice was sharp, leaving no room for argument.
The photographer hesitated, then nodded, snapping the photo.
I knew what the problem was.
It wasn’t my outfit. It wasn
