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Chapter 3 The Woman in the Mirror

Word Count: 1620    |    Released on: 07/06/2026

ine'

-

to a door tucked between a gallery and a private bank. There's no sign, no window displ

er the buzzer. Five minutes pass. Five whole minutes.

s the most New York interaction I've had all week, her heels clicking aga

ling cheap. My sweater has a loose thread at the hem. I tug it and the thread ge

rgument with my hairbrush this morning. Hazel eyes that scream "I make ques

aces. 'Try not to e

or years, apparently. What ca

ternational. Pages of results piling long, covering Forbes profiles, Financial Times coverage, acquisitions that reshaped entire industries ov

e article used. Not the resp

, him standing at the edge of the frame, not posing but watching, the ki

photo longer th

oys you. This is your only warning.* I ran the number twice. Untraceable, no name

leep much

he door opens. My finger

r pulled back so tightly I feel sorry for her scalp. Her eyes

xamine something broken before deciding i

lot o

arter. I have

e." She gestures inside

hanging on the walls, not a single price tag visible, bec

marble floor and I try to lesse

take it because I don't know what else to do with my hands. No way

fingers and an assistant appears with a tape mea

requires* raises t

really expl

tform surrounded by mirrors. "Remove your

ter. "

covering fabric." She til

hum

e changing room is t

ush carpet, soft lighting reflecting on a velvet bench.

y know, a man the internet barely has information a

roken zipper still fixed with a safety pin. My bra is clean but has live

my shoulders, a body that works fine for my

iving myself the cha

to the platform

ry angle, five versions of the same girl w

waist, hips, inseam. Colette wat

around me. "The shoulders nee

traight. "I'm sta

etween my shoulder blades, against the knot I've

ders have been up around

but what I catch makes heat crawl up my face. Too pale. The hair is

e them when I'm anxious, cuticles I never bother w

lbert Rossi befor

my fing

We enhance. We do not reconstruct." She me

table. She holds shades against my skin an

selects a midnight bl

azel eyes, green they don't usuall

esses. All must tel

t st

tly, really looks, for the first time. "Mr. Rossi has many women who want to be

d more lists added

e he could easily

e off. "You do not. That is worth m

ets bored fast. But the things that hold his at

. Every one is art. Every

" Colette observes. "Yo

exactly what t

re af

plet

wh

everyone in that room will

will

omach

shrugs

bl

e invisible." She smooth

no embellishment, nor decoration, what you only recognize when you realize how effortless it looks. The neckline sett

the m

't know was there. My posture reads like a choice, not survival. I square my shoulders with

have something they do not, authenticity. D

"Can I really be

est. "That is something

be my motivation to get throug

the same way it did last night, star

wn nu

Pick up on the third with t

s Ca

even tone from the contract si

Ros

ls me you're

he studies her nails w

er sele

ix thirty. D

n't pl

ine h

ent bag. "He called the mo

t withou

m not sure I want the answe

hone back in

knows more about me t

someone thinks that's

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