Eloise
Betrayal was something I was used to. I always thought betrayal would feel the same, like a clean, sharp thing. Like a knife sliding between my ribs, fast, precise and undeniable.
But this? This was something slower. A rot I couldn’t see, only sense. Something wrong beneath the surface that I couldn’t name, but felt in every fiber of me.
It started with a message.
Cass, a stylist I’d worked with once in Milan, slid into my DMs.
“Hey… did you collaborate with that big house on the capsule Jennifer dropped today? The designs scream YOU.”
I stared at the screen, the words blurring. My stomach went cold. I clicked the link he sent. Watched the video play on loop.
Jennifer. In a sleek black dress, her hair slicked back, smiling like she’d invented the sun itself. Models walked pas
