When the Mask Slips
Ella’s POV
For exactly half a second after my words left my mouth, the world froze.
Not metaphorically. Literally.
The studio lights hummed. The cameras stayed locked on my face. The massive screen beside us—still scrolling with vicious comments just moments ago—lagged, then stuttered, as if even the system needed time to catch up with what I had just said.
I could feel it in the air.
That sharp, electric tension right before something explodes.
I had expected mockery. I had prepared myself for humiliation, for Paige’s smug smile, for the director’s thinly veiled delight at squeezing more blood out of me for ratings. What I hadn’t expected was silence.
The chat didn’t erupt immediately.
It hesitated.
And that hesitation—that single, fragile pause—was the c***k
