Morana's Point of View
The room buzzed with whispers, the models exchanging knowing glances as they spoke in hushed tones. Their words dripped with mockery, their laughter carrying an undertone of cruelty.
"She really has the guts to show her face here after that disaster two years ago?"
"I don't know why she's even here. We all know Sophia is the real star."
"Morana was once great, but let's be honest, her time is over. She's just a washed-up model hanging on to scraps."
"Don't mind them, sister," Sophia said sweetly, placing a hand over mine. "To me, you're the best."
I frowned, my fingers clenching slightly. I could feel their eyes on me, their judgment like sharp needles pressing into my skin. But I said nothing.
Instead, I turned my gaze to Sophia.
This is what you wanted, isn't it?
The satisfied smirk on her lips told me everything I needed to know. She was reveling in their insults, basking in the humiliation they thought they were inflicting on me.
