Jennifer
My thumb hovered over the screen, refreshing Eloise’s i********: page for what felt like the thousandth time today. Every refresh brought a new wave of bile rising up my throat.
“Eloise Sinclair stuns the industry with emotional Ironheart collection.”
“A mother’s heartbreak turned into sculptural brilliance.”
“Upcoming face of resilience and feminist expression.”
I threw my phone across the marble kitchen counter. It skidded and slammed into the ceramic vase at the edge. The vase wobbled but didn’t fall. I clenched my jaw in irritation.
“Lucky b***h,” I hissed under my breath.
The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my apartment, catching on the polished surfaces and pristine designer furniture. The place felt colder lately.
I padded across the gl
