Domenico
My desk looked like a battlefield, scattered with files, contracts, and reports. Everything needed to be finished as soon as possible—Chiara had her debut runway shoot today.
She had been glowing with excitement all morning, talking about outfits, designers, and rehearsals. Seeing her that happy… made me oddly satisfied.
Although, personally, I didn’t think she should go. She had barely recovered from the gunshot, and now she would have to deal with stress: standing for hours, changing outfits, lights, and cameras… it wasn’t exactly the best environment for someone still healing.
I had even offered to arrange a modeling gig for her and reschedule the debut, but she refused.
With one call, she could skip half the struggle most models endure. Chiara refused it. She didn’t want
