chapter one

[ IN WHICH IT ALL BEGINS ]

“November.”

I move my head at the call of my name. Cameras flash repeatedly in my direction. The photographers are desperate to get more pictures of the long, dark-green dress I have on. With the dress, I feel feminine and strong. It sits upon my olive skin, showing the best of me, and leaving little to imagination. Confidently, I angle my body, posing for the photographers whilst plastering on my best smile. As a reaction to the pose, more cameras flash in my face as murmurs fill the evening air.

Other wealthy socialites pass by in beautiful suits and dresses, but as usual, I take up all the attention.

I get carried away by the photographers' compliments, and soon, I forget my main task for the evening. But thankfully, the two bodyguards behind me gesture towards the doors; where I need to be at the moment.

“Miss Starkey, this way please.”

I wave one last time at the cameras before ascending the stairs with the ends of my dress in my hands.

I have been invited to an extraordinary event, celebrating a get-together party with a one in a kind Gala dinner event. A photography studio has been set at the base of the stairs, leading inside the fancy restaurant, so as to take pictures of the invited guests in a red carpet setting before they walk through the doors.

… [those doors. if i had known the mishap waiting behind those doors, i would’ve turned and fled, but how could i have known? it felt like every other day, an ordinary day, except it wasn't] …

Once I get to the top of the stairs, the doors are pulled open, revealing the magnificent view. I leave the bodyguards behind, and proceed elegantly into the halls where the Gala event is to take place. My loose curls bounce on my bare back while I stomp in my black heels.

Inside, round tables are set in the restaurant. A classical music concert has also been set with exclusive performers waiting to start on a stage ahead— two sopranos and a young band of violinists. And refreshments are on the side, mounted on long rectangular tables. Admiring the chandeliers and yellow lights decorating the massive four-walled room, I am oblivious to the eyes following me and every move I make.

“Everyone.” Someone clinks their glass. “It’s November! The life of the party is here.”

I chuckle when I see Marcus with a wine glass in hand. A few other people cheer and clap at the introduction, while others ignore it.

“Marcus, you silly goose.” I lightly punch him on the arm.

“What? The beautiful Nobi has stepped in, everyone needs to acknowledge your presence.” He places a kiss on my cheek before showing me to my table.

… [everyone called me Nobi, short for November, no one knew that wasn’t my real name, i didn’t either] …

The smile on my face quickly vanishes when I see who I’ve been paired with at the table. Angie and Grace—the two women I highly dislike. Before I can protest a change of table, Marcus leaves me to welcome the other guests.

“Nobi, hi!” Angie waves me over, pointing at the empty sit between them. “Come join us.”

Faking a smile, I walk over. “Hello, girls. You’re all looking spectacular tonight.”

“Us?” Grace throws her head back, laughing hard like I’ve made the funniest joke in the world. “You’re the only one looking spectacular here, Nobi. We could never compete with you.”

“And you know that, that’s why you’re always fashionably late to these events, so you can drag all the attention once you walk in.” Angie speaks with the loveliest smile that it becomes hard to see her words as an insult.

“She must spend hours in front of the mirror to look this gorgeous that’s why she’s late.” Grace tells Angie, the woman seated opposite her. “Maybe we should do the same. We want to look like you, Nobi. I think we’ll start by getting our nose done like you did.”

I stay quiet.

Once again, I’m trapped into a corner, unsure if I’m truly loved by the people around me. They always make statements like this— giving compliments that somehow make me feel bad. It’s nothing new. It’s always been this way with them since the day I became recognized by the world as a super model. It doesn't help that I'm the youngest in this gathering either. Being influential and a V.I.P at the age of nineteen, it causes people to despise you, just because they feel attacked, and insecure. They all think I'm young and dumb, so they try to pull me down with their words, in hopes to crumble my spirit. But they don't know that their actions only push me to hold my head up and higher.

Science proves that the world is round; a circle, but actually, it's a triangle— the social pyramid. People like me run the world; the people present at this gala event are the country's elites.

I know how hard I’ve worked to climb up the social pyramid. Unlike these young women between the ages of 20 & 23 with billionaire parents who have never lacked anything, and have never worked a single day in their lives, I have felt the scorching sun and the extreme cruelty of man. I know what the real world feels like, these two are still living in the bubble created by their parents.

I eye the girls beside me as they casually pop a couple of pills into their mouth, followed by tequila.

I’m nothing like them. I never was, and I never will be. They can never be me either.

But sadly, these are the only girls willing to sit beside me and talk to me. The others isolate themselves from me, consumed by intimidation and envy. So, in short, I have no friends. But the truth, I don’t mind. I don’t want to be friends with these people either— people whose lives circulate around fame, money, sex, and drugs; people with no depth.

However, that’s the reality of the country’s elites.

The public romaticises the idea of us, celebrities. They think everyone present in the Gala event are perfect beings. But if they were to see what goes on after the cameras are turned off, they'll see that we're all living worthless lives. So, we all fake our smiles in front of the public to keep our careers, and our reputation afloat.

Speaking of those whose lives are absorbed in sex and drugs, my golden brown eyes drift from Grace to the man sat behind her, a little far away. His red hair is very hard to ignore, and I know that’s its purpose. After all, everyone in this room craves attention. But it’s not his hair that pulls my attention from Grace. It’s his eyes.

He has been watching me.

He’s still watching me.

His eyes express the thoughts running through his mind; unholy thoughts.

I don’t avert my gaze, I intend to intimidate him.

I know him. His name is Luca Zhang. Millionaire at twenty-seven. He's a film producer and is known for his work in biographical and period films. He is the recipient of numerous accolades, which has made him the arrogant prick that he is. For as long as I can remember, Luca has been trying to get inbetween my legs. That's what he's known for; the womanizer.

And he’s definitely one of the people I do not like.

… [funny i said that, because we never know what happens in the future, we find comfort in the strangest of places, and Luca was that strange place of comfort. people can surprise you] …

When Luca gives me a dirty smirk, I cringe and turn away. I suddenly don’t feel like being around these people anymore. Everyone around me seems to be having a good time, but for some reason, I feel sick. I can't shake off this feeling that something utterly disgusting and bad is about to happen.

I need some space to clear my head.

“Hey, girls. Would you excuse me for a second? I need to find the bathroom.” I get on my feet.

“Why?” Angie asks, batting her eyelashes. “You want to touch up your makeup? You sure do put in a lot of effort to look better than us, Nobi.”

I clench my fist. I swear once we’re alone, I’ll grab her blonde hair and swing her into a fucking wall. She just annoys me so much. Swallowing the curses, I smile at her. “I’ll be right back.”

“You don’t need to go, Nobi, I have a mirror here you can use.” Grace stops me.

Angrily, I bare my teeth at Grace. “I never said I wanted to touch up my makeup, now did I?”

They both stare in shock at the outburst.

Angie scoffs, her words slurring like a drunk person. “You should speak nicely next time, Nobi. You're not being a lady, and here I was, thinking you were a high value woman. You should take this advice from an older female, you wouldn't want your fans seeing the kind of person you are behind closed doors. You should work on yourself.”

I glare at her. “Oh, fuck off and die, Angie.” I turn to Grace. “You too.”

With that, I walk off. I push the doors open that serves as an escape from this hellish gathering. Taking another turn, I trace my way to the bathroom.

… [at that moment, i tried to run away from my reality, but little did i know that Luca got up from his seat and followed me] …