Chapter 6: Private Backstage Withdrawal

The lobby exploded in genuine applause, a wave of sound that seemed to shake the very foundations of the Grand Pavilion. Critics, fashion buyers, and social media influencers all converged on my models, eager to learn the story behind this sudden, breathtaking display.

I felt a surge of triumph, a warmth spreading through me that chased away years of quiet dismissal. But the feeling was fleeting. My eyes found Victoria’s.

She stood at the entrance to the main hall, framed by heavy velvet curtains, her face a mask of furious disbelief. Her show, moments from starting, was now overshadowed by a spectacle she hadn’t choreographed.

Our eyes met across the crowded lobby. Hers were cold, calculating, and laced with pure venom.

Then, she moved. Not towards me in a public confrontation, but with a deliberate, predator-like grace, she slipped through a narrow service door adjacent to the main stage entrance. She wanted me, and she wanted me alone.

A few seconds later, Chloe gently touched my arm. “Maya, I think she wants you.” Chloe nodded towards the same service door. “Be careful.”

I squeezed Chloe’s hand, grateful for her silent support. “Keep the show going,” I told her. “Keep them talking.”

I followed Victoria, pushing through the thick door and stepping into the muted silence of a backstage corridor. The air was thick with the scent of hairspray and nervous energy, but here, in this dimly lit hallway, everything felt unnervingly quiet.

Victoria stood at the end of the corridor, near a heavy fire door marked “VIP Storage.” She didn’t turn around. She simply waited, a rigid silhouette against the faint emergency lighting.

I approached her, each step echoing slightly on the concrete floor. The applause from the lobby, once a roaring triumph, was now a muffled thrum, a distant world away.

She pushed open the VIP Storage door without a word and stepped inside. It was a utilitarian space, filled with stacked display cases, discarded props, and rolls of carpeting. The single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling cast harsh shadows.

The door swung shut behind me with a soft click, sealing us in. The silence was absolute, broken only by our breathing.

Victoria finally turned. Her perfect runway makeup couldn’t hide the raw fury in her eyes. Her lips were a thin, hard line.

“You really thought you could get away with this, Maya?” she hissed, her voice low and dangerous. “Publicly humiliating me, our house?”

I stood my ground, my hands clasped in front of me. The thrill of the lobby show was gone, replaced by a cold, steady resolve. This was the moment of reckoning, away from the cameras and the crowds, where the real battle would be fought.