I offered Marissa a bitter smile and whispered, "I know, Marissa." I paused, then added softly, "I won’t trust people so easily."
In my last life, the ones who betrayed the most were the very people closest to ; my manager, my coworkers, and ... my best friend.
Ding!
As the elevator doors opened, I stepped out with Marissa and my eyes instantly caught on a few magazines lying across the studio table. One cover froze in place.
It was a fashion magazine, smiling back at from the glossy page was the face of the person who had betrayed most of all: Lariette Archer.
She was the daughter of Gregory Archer, the man behind Archer dia Group, a dia empire that owned magazines, TV networks, even film companies. With that kind of power, Lariette was destined to shine, talent or not.
I first t her when I was still just a rookie. We were both cast in the sa drama, which later exploded into the drama of the year.
After that, we often landed on the sa projects, and I honestly thought she was an angel because she always wore a sweet smile and spoke so gently.
Among the many wolves in the industry, to , she was like a lamb that gave comfort. That was why, little by little, I let her into my life. We beca close friends, and she even invited several tis to her parents’ ho for dinner.
But things started to change. As my popularity rose and hers began to fade—her acting often called diocre—Lariette slowly pulled away from .
Then, out of nowhere, she reached out again. She acted warm, friendly, like nothing had ever happened, and just like a fool, I let her back in. To this day, I regret that decision more than anything.
One night, she invited to a celebrity party, the kind I usually avoided. But she begged and begged until I finally gave in.
She handed a drink, and after drinking it, I felt like I was teetering on the edge between staying awake and fainting. My head was spinning, and in the middle of that crisis, I realized she had spiked my drink.
I tried to leave, but she wouldn’t let . She kept pressing more drinks into my hand, forcing further into that haze until I was pale, shaking, completely disoriented.
The next morning, I woke up in my own apartnt with no mory of how I got there.
When I grabbed my phone, the headlines nearly made drop it. "Helena Moore, Drug Addict Actress?!"
They had taken photos of in secret, not just when I was pale and disoriented, but pictures of looking pale and dazed, but ones where I looked completely unhinged, like I’d lost my mind.
I tried to call Lariette, but she had blocked my number.
From then on, my career kept falling apart, while she suddenly landed all the movie roles that had originally been ant for .
"Ms. Orszebet, good morning." I turned my eyes away from the magazine when I heard Margareth’s voice.
"The makeup team is ready for you," she said with a polite smile. "Please, follow to the makeup room. Afterward, you can also try on so of the dresses we’ve prepared for you."
I nodded and followed Margaret, while Marissa trailed a few steps behind. When we reached the makeup room, Marissa stayed outside, probably wanting to exchange a few words with Margaret.
For a brief mont, I caught the way Margaret’s eyes widened when Marissa introduced herself. But once the door shut behind , their voices faded, and I could no longer see what was happening.
At least now, people would know I wasn’t standing alone anymore, and I had soone powerful behind .
But the videos of Madeline bullying had already spread everywhere, flooding social dia until there was no corner left untouched. Everywhere I went, people couldn’t help but look at with pity in their eyes.
Even at ho, a few of the housemaids would tear up whenever I walked past them. Their sorrow weighed on so heavily that, in the end, I chose to stay in my bedroom most of the ti, just so no one else would cry because of .
A few days ago, even Margaret and Vivienne herself called directly. They spoke with gentle voices, full of regret, apologizing for almost cutting off the contract with .
Honestly, I believed Vivienne only did that because she was sure that if she kept , people would see her as a saint for giving a mistress’s daughter like a chance to shine.
Well, so be it. In the end, this was nothing more than business.
"Ms. Orszebet, nice to et you." One of the makeup artists approached first, smiling warmly. "We’re really sorry for what happened to you back then," she added softly.
I returned her smile and waved it off. "Oh, I’m fine now. It’s all in the past." I had no intention of dragging that topic any further, so I quickly changed the subject. "So, what kind of makeup will you be using today? We’ll use the first concept first, right?"
Jeanne, the head makeup artist, nodded and led toward the vanity table. There, I noticed several new eyeshadow palettes from Rosélle Beauty.
Though the the was sumr, the palettes weren’t just filled with warm shades like red, orange, and yellow. There were also cooler options—shimring silvers, soft blues, icy lilacs—that felt almost out of place beside the earthier tones.
I guessed the cool palettes were ant for people who liked to experint with bold looks, while most people would stick to the warr, safer colors.
"As you already know, we’ll be doing two photoshoots for you," Jeanne explained with a calm smile. "Today, we’ll go with a warm, classic sumr vibe. For the next shoot, we’ll try sothing a little more creative and artsy."
"Then, let’s do it!" I smiled brightly, feeling excited because after such a long ti, I was finally about to officially return to this industry.
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