Chapter 1
“Oh my God, Elle… where do you even get all these crazy things from?”
Penelope’s voice echoes across the living room as she sits cross-legged on the couch, holding up a pair of designer heels like they might vanish if she lets go of them.
The red soles catch the afternoon light coming through the windows, shining almost as brightly as the pile of boxes scattered across the coffee table.
“These modelling gigs can’t be paying that well,” she adds, narrowing her eyes at the shoes before glancing back at me.
I force a small laugh and continue unwrapping another gift.
“Well… they do,” I say casually.
The lie slides out easily now because I’ve told it so many times it almost feels real. Technically I do model sometimes, enough to keep the story believable whenever Penelope ask
