[Gianna’s POV]
I sit silently, watching while three separate pairs of eyes stay locked on.
I feel like they’re burning into me, seeing through me, and that they already know the secret that I was doing a piss-poor job at hiding, but when my mother’s expression softens and she lets out a sigh, I brace myself for what she will say to me.
“Gia,” she says gently, and I swallow. “Why on earth didn’t you tell us that you were sick?”
Eyes widening, I stare in disbelief as confusion and relief rush through me, but it is short-lived as my mother’s expression starts hardening.
“Didn’t I already tell you that if you started to get sick from that ridiculous career you chose, I would oppose it?”
There it was. My mother’s normal spiel when it came to my choice to be a model.
When I first announce
