She stood, leaning on the edge of her balcony's railing, watching the sunset on the horizon. The warm rays of sunlight teased her long, wild, red hair cascading down her back, while a few rebellious strands curled around her graceful neck like fiery tongues, highlighting the radiance of her alabaster-white skin.
Her wide, honey-colored eyes were framed by thick, dark lashes that added to the mystery of her enigmatic gaze, as the refreshing breeze gently caressed the delicate skin exposed by her short white dress, sending a delicious shiver through her body.
These moments spent at the countryside house were very precious to her. It had become rare in recent years for her to find time to relax and unwind as she was doing today. Her busy schedule throughout the year didn't allow it. Being a top model, ranked among the top ten in the world, kept her constantly occupied. Most of her time was spent traveling for major fashion shows, and her photos frequently graced the covers of prestigious magazines.
But sometimes, in moments of clarity like these, when she was alone with her thoughts and fully aware of all the joys she lacked in her life—joys that some might consider as mere "childish desires of a spoiled woman"—she often asked herself the same question: 'Is this life worth all the sacrifices I've made?' As usual, her question remained unanswered, perhaps out of fear of admitting the bitter truth to herself, a truth that would only bring more pain and sorrow.
The sound of someone clearing their throat behind her startled her, pulling her out of that sad moment of reflection. Quickly, she turned around, smiling immediately as soon as she saw who was standing before her.
"Raoul,"
she said with a tender tone.
The chubby, middle-aged man's round face lit up with joy as he stepped closer, planting a warm kiss on both her cheeks, saying:
"I've missed you, my lovely girl."
"I've missed you too,"
she replied sincerely before continuing, asking:
"But how did you get in?"
"The door was open. I knocked before coming in, but you didn't hear me."
"Sorry, I wasn't paying attention."
"My dear, you need to be careful. Leaving the door open like that isn't a good idea."
"Don't worry, Raoul. The place is very safe here, and don't forget that the resort has strict security."
Raoul gazed at her helplessly, saying:
"Well, I just don't want anything bad to happen to you."
She smiled softly, and to change the subject, she eyed the bags in his hand with some curiosity.
"What did you bring?"
"Sushi."
He replied, pulling the food from the bags and placing it on the table. She took a few steps towards him on her bare feet before sitting down on the wooden chair. He handed her a plate with chopsticks and appetizers, then sat and ate.
"How did things go for you in London?"
She asked calmly as she dipped a piece of sushi into the spicy sauce before biting into it.
"Let's finish our meal first and talk afterward,"
he replied, eating eagerly.
She didn't miss the tremor in his voice, which prompted her to set her chopsticks aside and look directly at him.
"Let's talk now, please."
Her tone was serious.
He stopped eating and, with a tone filled with regret, replied:
"I'm sorry, things didn't go as we wanted."
She didn't say anything, merely looked at him calmly, waiting for what would follow his apology.
He seemed extremely hesitant, opening his mouth only to close it again as if afraid to speak. But she didn't give him any room for hesitation, asking her question seriously this time, and differently, though she had read everything she needed to know in his eyes—she wanted to hear him say it.
"Say everything you have to say, Raoul."
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
"Unfortunately, I couldn't solve the problem with the agency managers as you wanted. They reject any amicable solution and insist on adhering to the terms of the contract."
She remained silent for a few moments, completely still, with her expression revealing nothing of the emotions churning inside her, while her gaze was fixed on the plate in front of her. This only heightened Raoul's anxiety as he waited for her reaction. But he didn't have to wait long, as her golden eyes looked up at him before she asked:
"Does that mean I'm forced to work under them for another five years until the contract expires?"
His eyes filled with regret.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart…"
"Answer me."
She interrupted him as if she could no longer bear to hear his voice, which was exactly what Raoul felt at that moment. As terrible as it was, he fully understood that he deserved any punishment she might give him—he had failed her once again, and in the worst way possible.
"Yes, if you break the contract the penalty clause is very high and would cost you a significant fortune, you could lose everything you've earned over the past years."
She glared at him before getting up and walking away, ignoring his repeated apologies as she moved toward her room. She emerged from it into the small living room and went to the tiled kitchen. She poured hot tea from the teapot into her cup with suppressed anger before hastily taking a sip. She winced in pain as she felt the burn on the edge of her tongue.
"Sweetheart! Be careful."
Raoul jumped toward her in fear with surprising agility for someone of his large size, grabbing her hand and holding the cup to prevent the hot tea from spilling onto her soft skin. He had been following her since she left him on the balcony.
"You'll burn yourself."
He scolded her as he cautiously took the cup from her, placed it on the wooden kitchen table, and then returned to examine her with worried eyes.
'Is he worried about her now as Helen the person, or is it just a concern for a body that brings him and others vast wealth?'
She thought sorrowfully as she moved away from him toward the sink.
She turned on the cold water tap, letting it flow over her trembling fingers, hoping it would calm her rapid breathing.
She couldn't speak; she still could not accept what he had told her. Yes, she was angry with him, but she was even more furious with herself because when she signed that damned contract three years ago, she hadn't first read the onerous terms in case she wanted to break it. Yes, she had signed herself into a slave contract that obligated her to stay with that agency for ten years. Damn it! How could she continue working with them after discovering their vile actions toward the young models who were sexually exploited in exchange for being given the chance to walk the runway for fashion houses? What misery those young people lived under the mercy of those scoundrels!
She felt nauseous, with a strong urge to scream and expose the truth, but! Unfortunately, she was powerless, especially since she had no tangible evidence to incriminate them. Also, no one would stand by her if she tried to report them, as most in the fashion world were well aware of the ugly side of this industry but remained silent for their financial interests.
She took a deep breath when she felt Raoul standing behind her. She turned off the water and faced him, her cold gaze meeting his regret-filled green eyes.
"I know you're angry with me, and you have every right to be."
Ignoring her emotions, she forced a smile and replied calmly:
"No, I'm not angry with you, Raoul. After all, there's nothing you can do."
She tried to reassure him with her words, knowing he could do nothing for her, even if he wanted to. In any case, she was powerless.
"Did you book my plane ticket?" she asked calmly, hiding the storms in her heart.
His eyes filled with emotion as he answered, "Yes, you need to be at the airport before 11 a.m. tomorrow."
"In that case, I'll excuse myself. I need to rest a bit before I pack my suitcase."
She said as she quickly kissed his cheek before moving away, masking her features with the coldness she had always used to protect herself. Her life as a fashion model had taught her to separate her feelings from her body completely; it didn't matter what she felt or thought, what was important was to present an impeccable image on television screens and magazine covers. If anything, this had helped her control her emotions in real life.
After hours of exhausting travel, the plane finally landed at New York International Airport.
"We've arrived, miss."
The stewardess's voice was soft as she addressed the girl covering her eyes with a sleep mask.
'Perhaps she thinks I'm asleep.'
Helen thought with some misery how she wished she was asleep then, especially with all the grueling photo shoots awaiting her, which would tax her nerves for long hours. But, unfortunately, she couldn't force herself to sleep. For years, she had suffered from that cursed insomnia that only allowed her a few hours of sleep each night, barely enough to count on one hand if she were lucky. Usually, she would go several days without sleep, which added to her exhaustion, exacerbated by the demands of her hard work.
"Thank you," she muttered as she opened her eyes to the stewardess's smiling face, whose features were pleasantly comforting, prompting a soft smile in return.
She picked up her handbag before leaving the first-class cabin and descended the plane's steps.
She hurried across the tarmac toward the VIP lounge inside the airport while an employee sent by the agency handled the formalities.
Afterward, she sat waiting for him for a few minutes on one of the plush leather chairs, using the time to discuss work details with her manager, Raoul, over the phone.
Once the formalities were completed, she left the lounge, wearing a large hat and dark sunglasses that covered half her face. She doesn't want anyone, especially scandal-seeking journalists fascinated by her life, to recognize her. Even her simple attire was chosen to avoid attention. Her faded blue jeans and loose black shirt helped conceal her distinctive figure, making it unlikely anyone would identify her.
She got into the SUV waiting for her outside the airport, sitting in the back while the agency employee took the front seat next to the driver.
She felt a sense of melancholy as she gazed at the streets through the tinted car windows. She already missed the short vacation she had spent in the countryside. She loved the greenery of trees and plants, the sound of flowing rivers, and the vibrant nature. It was there that she felt truly alive and free. But now she was returning to her reality again, to the bustling city life, where towering buildings and massive skyscrapers made her feel suffocated every time she saw them, like reinforced concrete bars that restricted her freedom and cut off her air.
The car finally stopped after a short drive in front of a building on one of the city's most exclusive streets, housing luxury apartments designed to offer the comfort and opulence that the elite society demanded.
She stepped out after the driver opened the car door for her and quickly entered the building, followed by the agency employee carrying her bags.
She took the private elevator, which brought her to her luxurious apartment on the seventh floor, where she found her housemaid, Teresa, waiting for her. Teresa greeted her warmly when she saw her, taking her belongings from the employee who left quietly.
Helen entered her room, throwing her handbag and the clothes she had taken off onto the large white bed in the center of the room, designed with the latest style to suit the fast-paced life of New York residents.
After a few minutes in the warm shower, she came to her room wrapped in a white towel.
She opened one of the doors to reveal a room with neatly arranged rows of clothes and luxury shoes from the world's top designers. Everything was meticulously organized: one row for her dresses, another for her boots, and another for trousers and shirts. In one corner, there were drawers containing her underwear and socks.
Being a fashion icon allowed her to access the latest and most valuable trends from the world's top fashion houses.
She picked out an off-the-shoulder white top and an ivory-colored jacket with long sleeves that perfectly matched low-rise trousers from the same collection, which softly embraced her curvy figure.
She slipped on a comfortable pair of sandals before tying her fiery hair into a ponytail, completing her look with lip gloss and some mascara on her long lashes. Her final appearance was simple, yet wonderfully alluring.
After eating some of the food her maid had prepared, she left to find the driver waiting to take her to where she would be filming the new perfume commercial for the famous French perfume company, as she was their leading spokesperson.
The shoot took a long time, involving both the televised commercial and multiple still shots in various poses with a well-known actor, to be featured in the world's top media outlets.
After her work was finally done late at night, she felt fatigue and exhaustion taking over her worn-out body. But, as usual, she refused to show it to anyone, bidding farewell to everyone with a pleasant smile before leaving. However, just as she was about to leave the set, she heard her phone ringing. After a few moments of hesitation, she calmly took it out of her bag, only for her expression to freeze and her body tense up as she read the name on the screen.
She didn't hesitate or couldn't do anything but lift the phone to her ear after answering the call. But before she could say a word, that stern female voice silenced her with an order that brooked no argument:
"We're holding a party at our mansion in London next week. Don't miss it, understood?"
"Understood."
Her reply was swift, followed by the line going dead.
A bitter smile spread across her lips as she thought sarcastically about what it would have cost her mother if she had just once deviated from the norm and asked about her daughter's well-being like any normal mother instead of coldly issuing orders.
She sighed in exasperation at her foolish thoughts as she stepped outside the set, getting into the waiting car that would take her back to her apartment, her mind occupied by one thing: why had her mother called her personally and gone to the trouble of informing her of the invitation herself, even though it wasn't her usual practice? Was that the only reason she called? Strange indeed!
Questions flooded her mind all at once, but she quickly brushed them off, feeling strongly that the answers she sought would come without delay at that party her mother insisted she attend. So, all she needed to do now was stop thinking about it, try to get some rest if she could, and leave understanding the matter for later.