CHAPTER 15: FOOD POISONING

Alisha stepped onto the platform—an elevated runway in the center of the room, surrounded by lights, cameras, and judges seated to the side.

She walked to the edge, her heels clicking sharply with every step. She paused, struck a pose, and then began her walk.

Her movements were smooth, measured, confident.

Her long legs glided effortlessly in her crimson heels. Her dress, a silky black number that ended mid-thigh, fluttered slightly with every step, revealing the full strength and elegance of her stride.

The other girls stared, awestruck.

She wasn’t just walking. She was commanding. Dominating.

A walking phoenix, risen from ashes, striding across the runway like it was her throne room.

The photographers snapped rapidly.

Even Megan leaned forward slightly, lips parting as if to say something—but instead, she made a note on her clipboard.

From the side of the room, Katherine stiffened.

That walk. That aura. That face.

Katherine didn’t know who Alisha Quinn really was... not yet. But something about her presence unsettled every bone in her body.

And deep inside, she just knew Alisha Quinn was going to be a problem.

Everyone clapped for Alisha once she stepped down from the runway. Applause rang out across the room, echoing off the tall studio walls. She could feel the weight of multiple eyes on her—not all of them kind. Some of the girls clapped with plastic smiles, while others gave her sharp, condescending looks. Still, Alisha couldn’t be bothered by any of it.

She saw them clearly now. They were going to be a problem. But that was fine. She was ready for whatever they had to throw her way.

"That was an amazing walk, Alisha. I’m impressed," said Megan, scribbling something down in her notepad with a quick flick of her pen. Her face remained mostly unreadable, but her voice held a note of genuine interest. "Next is Bethany Sterling."

Bethany raised her hand with a self-assured smirk playing on her lips. Her steps were confident as she walked to the runway, each click of her heels echoing through the room like a countdown. Her pink hair bounced with each step, her face glowing with the pride of someone who had practiced endlessly in front of a mirror.

She wasn’t Alisha—not even close but she’d already debuted into the industry, had a fanbase, and was overly confident she was going to outwalk Alisha.

She stepped onto the platform of the runway, her shoulders back and chin lifted high. All eyes locked on her. Some curious, some skeptical, many silently rooting for her to fail.

She took her first step—then disaster struck.

The heel of her five-inch stilettos wobbled, and before she could fully react, her foot twisted under her. Her balance disappeared in an instant, and she pitched forward.

Bethany barely managed to twist her body in time, sparing her face from slamming into the floor. Instead, her back hit the ground with a painful thud.

Gasps filled the room, quickly replaced by uncontrollable laughter.

The crew, the photographer, even some of the other girls all erupted in laughter. It was loud, brutal, and unfiltered. It sliced through Bethany’s pride like a blade. Her face turned red, her heart pounding from the embarrassment.

"I think you should take off your shoes, Bethany. They seem too much for you to handle," Alisha called from the side, her voice light but laced with venom.

Bethany’s ears perked at the sound.

With clenched fists and a forced expression of calm, Bethany stood up.

She’d chosen those towering heels specifically to make an impression, just like Katherine had done but instead, they’d betrayed her. Without saying a word, she bent down and slipped them off.

Barefoot now, she stepped forward and began her walk again. But the sting of humiliation hadn’t worn off. It clung to her like a second skin. She stumbled once, then again, unable to find her rhythm. Each misstep brought another round of snickers from the crowd.

Still, she kept going.

When she reached the front of the runway and struck a pose, she forced a smile on her lips. But just before the camera shutter clicked, the photographer paused.

"You need to look up a little. All I can see is your forehead," he said, squinting behind the camera.

Bethany’s entire body stiffened. More laughter broke out from the others. Laughter that made her feel like a joke.

"Come on now. We shouldn’t make things difficult for Bethany," Megan said finally, cutting through the noise. "Remember, you haven’t walked yet. You could be next."

Instantly, the room quieted. The other girls exchanged sheepish looks and zipped their lips.

Katherine merely watched without an expression on her face.

When her shoot ended, Bethany stepped off the runway with her head down and her face flushed a deep crimson. This was not the way she wanted her day to go.

But there was nothing she could say or do—not in front of Megan and the staff.

"Next time, don’t wear heels you can’t control, Bethany. You’re beautiful, but you need to work on your poses," Megan said, her voice firm but not cruel.

Bethany could only nod. Her throat felt tight, her jaw clenched.

The next hour rolled on with the other girls taking their turns on the runway. Some did well, others were forgettable, but Megan’s attention never wavered. She watched each girl like a hawk, her notes filling up quickly.

Eventually, the auditions ended and everyone was dismissed for a break.

"Do you already feel tired? Do you need to rest? Have you taken your afternoon drugs?" Maxine asked, immediately bombarding Alisha with questions as they reached the cafeteria.

Megan had allowed them to eat at the Veila building’s cafeteria, reminding them that meals were covered—but warned them not to overeat. Weight control was still part of the job.

"You don’t have to worry. I feel great actually," Alisha said with a small smile.

Since finding out Eva was still alive, Maxine had become a second mother. Always fussing, reminding her about her medication, the time to take it, and even what she should eat before taking it.

"Are you sure you want to have only salad?" Maxine asked, peering suspiciously at Alisha’s tray. "That won’t be enough for you. Have some beans. Enough fiber."

Alisha was about to protest, but it was too late—Maxine had already scooped some beans onto her plate with the confidence of someone who knew best.

She sighed and smiled. "Thanks, Max."

Just as they were about to sit down, a loud, panicked scream pierced the air.

Everyone froze. Heads turned.

A girl in the far corner was struggling to breathe, clutching her throat as she collapsed onto the floor.

"Someone please help! I think she ate something she’s allergic to!" another girl screamed, holding the one on the floor and trying to keep her calm.

The cafeteria erupted in chaos. Security arrived within minutes, rushing the girl to the building’s medical center.

The rest of the students whispered amongst themselves. What had triggered the allergy? Was it accidental—or deliberate?