The CEO's Crown

~Ariella~ Some people walked into a room. I entered one. There was a difference. The moment the glass doors of Voss Management slid open, conversations dipped just enough for me to notice. Not because they had to stop talking, but because they always looked. It had been like that for years. Assistants smiled. Design interns straightened in their seats. A makeup artist I hadn't met before nearly dropped her coffee when our eyes met. "Good morning, Miss Voss." "Morning, Ariella." "You look incredible." I returned each greeting with the same practiced smile I'd perfected over the years—warm enough to seem approachable, distant enough to remind everyone that I wasn't here to make friends. Perception was everything in this industry. If people believed you were untouchable... Half the battle was already won. The marble floors reflected the sharp click of my heels as I crossed the lobby, phone in one hand, sunglasses resting on top of my head. Every movement was deliberate. Elegant. Controlled. Perfect. Because perfection wasn't optional anymore. It was expected. "Ariella!" I turned just in time to catch Maya jogging toward me with two iced coffees balanced in one hand and a tablet tucked under the other arm. "I got your usual." "You deserve a raise." "I deserve a holiday." I laughed, taking the coffee from her. "I'll speak to Mr Knight." Maya snorted. "The old man would probably actually give me one." The old man. Richard Knight. Founder of Voss Management. The man who had built one of the biggest modelling agencies in the country from absolutely nothing. To the public, he was a business legend. To me... He was the first person who had ever looked at me and seen potential instead of a pretty face. He'd discovered me when I was nineteen. Nervous. Unknown. Completely terrified. Everyone else had said I photographed beautifully. He'd said... "You don't sell beauty, Ariella." "You sell confidence." That sentence had changed my life. Unfortunately... It had also started the rumours. I didn't need social media to know what people said. "She's only successful because Richard favours her." "She's obviously his favourite." "No model gets that many campaigns without special treatment." Funny. People never talked about the four-hour fittings. The bruised feet. The diets. The twelve-hour shoots. Or the nights I'd cried alone in my apartment because one bad photograph could cost me a million-pound campaign. No. Apparently success was easier to explain if you ignored the work. "You're thinking again," Maya said. "I hate when you're right." "I know." She linked her arm through mine as we walked towards the private lift. "Today's campaign is huge." "I know." "Three international brands." "I know." "If this goes well, you're basically guaranteed another magazine cover." I smiled. "It'll go well." It had to. Failure wasn't something my career could afford anymore. The lift doors opened onto the executive floor. Unlike the buzzing chaos downstairs, everything up here was quiet. Controlled. Expensive. Exactly how Richard liked it. The receptionist looked up immediately. "Miss Voss." "Morning." "Mr Knight is waiting." I frowned. "Already?" "He's in Studio A." That was unusual. Richard rarely came to shoots anymore. His health hadn't been the best recently, though he refused to admit it. He claimed retirement was for people who'd given up. I found him exactly where I expected. Standing beside the enormous backdrop with his hands tucked into the pockets of his tailored suit. His silver hair was perfectly combed. His posture was straight. But... He looked tired. Older than he had just a month ago. When he spotted me, his entire face softened. "There's my superstar." I rolled my eyes. "You've called me that for four years." "And I'll keep calling you that." He opened his arms. I walked over, allowing him to hug me briefly. "You've lost weight," he murmured. "I've been training." "You've been overworking." "Occupational hazard." He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "You don't always have to carry the company on your shoulders." "I know." Neither of us believed that. The photographer clapped his hands together. "Everyone ready?" The studio burst into motion. Stylists rushed around. Hairdressers made last-minute adjustments. Assistants checked lighting. Within seconds, the organised chaos I'd grown to love swallowed the room whole. I stepped onto the set. Everything else disappeared. No cameras. No people. No expectations. Just instinct. "Beautiful!" the photographer shouted. "Turn your shoulder." Click. "Perfect." Click. "Give me confidence." Click. "No... more." I closed my eyes for half a second. Thought about every person who'd ever told me I wasn't enough. Opened them again. Click. The silence afterwards told me everything. Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. Then— "That's it." The photographer lowered his camera slowly. "That's the cover." Applause filled the studio. I climbed off the platform, accepting a bottle of water from Maya. "Told you," I said. She rolled her eyes. "You are unbelievably annoying." "And yet you adore me." "I tolerate you." Richard chuckled quietly from the corner. For a brief moment... Everything felt exactly as it always had. Safe. Certain. Permanent. I had no idea... This would be the last campaign he would ever watch me shoot.