Chapter 2

I stared at the message on my screen.

Then I put the phone face-down and didn't answer.

I called Nyx instead — a Gen-Z TikTok makeup artist I'd been following. Underground, no industry ties and no agenda.

She showed up with a full kit.

She'd barely gotten started when Dorian appeared in the doorway.

"Why aren't you replying to me?"

He crossed the room and gently cupped my face, tilting it toward the light.

"It looks better than yesterday. I've been—"

I turned my face away. His hand froze in the air.

"Vesper?"

"I think you should take a break from my prep for now," I said. "Nyx will handle it."

"You're mad at me."

He seemed to be a better actor than I was.

Every time he "accidentally" ruins my makeup, he feels guilty and gets even more anxious than I do.

Now he's resorting to this trick again. Acting pitiful. Even Nyx glanced up for half a second.

Only I stayed cold: "Go back and practice. I don't need you here."

He looked at me for a long moment. His eyes went slightly wet.

He murmured something to Nyx about my skin sensitivity, then left.

"Vesper, he's not that bad—" one of the assistants started.

"Drop it," Nyx cut in, already uncapping a brush. "He wrecked her face. She's allowed."

Nyx's team worked their magic. By the time I got home that evening, the pain was mostly gone.

I unlocked the door quietly.

Dorian was on the phone in the living room, back to me.

"You think I went too far? Did she ever go easy on Odette?"

"She's the reason Odette spiraled for three years. Three years off every major stage — she could've gone international by now. "

"Vesper did that. So who's going to give Odette back those three years?"

Odette Laurent?

When had I ever done anything to Odette?

"If Vesper hadn't pushed her into that depression — forced her out of the industry for three years — Odette would be a global name by now. "

"I spent three years pulling her back from the edge. Three years before she finally had the guts to come back. Vesper took that from her. "

"She only burned a face. But who compensates Odette for three years?"

Tears hit without warning.

I slid down the wall until I was sitting on the floor.

Only I and a few other artists knew the truth about Odette's previous depression.

Odette had gotten tangled up with a married studio executive.

His wife had put out the word — Odette's career, her safety, everything was on the line.

Odette was terrified. She begged everyone who knew to stay quiet.

I stayed quiet for three years. Without a word.

The executive's wife died of cancer six months ago.

And right on schedule, Odette's "depression" made a full recovery.

So this whole time, Odette had been telling Dorian that I drove her to it?

I pressed both hands over my eyes.

Odette had Dorian to make up for her three years.

Who was going to make up for mine?

This Oscar Party was supposed to be my shot at breaking internationally.

Instead I didn't show. And the major jewelry partnership pulled out the same night.

My stomach turned over. I made it to the bathroom just in time.

Apparently, when you find out your partner has been playing you, your body just — reacts.

"Vesper?"

Dorian appeared in the doorway. Rushed over to rub my back, face full of concern.

I pushed his hand off.

"Vesper—"

I wiped my mouth. Stood up straight.

"You're not my makeup artist anymore."