[Wilson Studio's Photoshoot room]
Racks of luxury clothes gleamed under track lighting like fashion trophies. Makeup kits were cracked open like toolboxes. Steamer fog hissed in the background. The place was buzzing like a glam war zone.
Max and Caroline had already done their basic photoshoot practice. It was time for the next shoot.
Max stood in front of a full-length mirror, frozen in a sequined jumpsuit that sparkled like a disco ball, threatening to sue. Her expression was somewhere between "deer in headlights" and "tax fraud suspect caught mid-sprint."
Caroline was already two outfits in. She posed coolly in a silk trench coat with slits up the sides, examining herself with a bored model's precision.
The makeup girl did her job to make them look pretty.
Rachel swiped through notes on her tablet, barking orders like a general. "Okay, Max, after this, we do your streetwear test. Then eveningwear. And yes, both of you are going on billboards, magazine spreads, social campaigns, possibly TV. Global coverage."
Max blinked. "Wait, hold up. TV? Campaigns? Global coverage?" She almost forgot to breathe for a moment as her brain glitched up before rebooting again.
Rachel didn't even look up. "Yes. If this is successful, then there will be interviews and promos. We're putting you everywhere. We are going to make you girls a global icon."
Max's jaw dropped. "What if I blink weird? What if I trip? What if my eyelash falls off mid-photo and hits the lens?"
Caroline tilted her head. "Max, relax. Calm down. Have some confidence. Don't forget this is our chance to shine like stars." She was in a dream world of her own.
"Easy for you to say. You used to sip champagne at eleven in the morning. I used to drink expired Yoo-hoo behind a dumpster."
Scarlett entered the room after making a few calls. She decided to stick around and went through the dresses they were going to wear. Right now, she was going to give them a little pep talk and enjoy the situation.
"Alright, ladies. Big debut. So listen close. Don't lock your knees. Don't squint under the lights. And whatever you do, don't let them put you in anything with feathers. They itch. Like betrayal."
Caroline gave her a nod of respect. "Noted."
Max raised a hand. "Can I request no see-through pants?"
Rachel glanced up. "Depends on the designer."
Max gasped. "If my butt ends up on a Times Square jumbotron, I'm suing everyone and retiring to a cave."
"Correction," Rachel said, sliding a contract across the table. "You'll be too rich to live in a cave. This is your royalty breakdown. You two are officially the face of Titan Aevum's debut line. If all goes well, you're looking at low seven-figure revenue… per quarter."
Max stared at the paper like it had just proposed marriage.
"Wait… Seven figures? Per quarter? Like, every three months?"
"That's how quarters work," Rachel replied.
Max slowly turned to Caroline. "I think my soul just ascended. Did you feel that?"
Caroline gave her a knowing look. "Welcome to capitalism."
Scarlett smirked and tossed her an energy bar. "Eat up, Sugar Witch. You're gonna need the fuel."
Max ripped it open like it was made of hundred-dollar bills. "I'm buying a villa. I don't care where. Bali. Miami. The moon. I'm gonna buy a villa and put a pool inside another pool. Poolception. I'll invite Alex and we'll have a very long holiday."
Rachel clapped her hands. "Focus. We still need to rehearse the three main walk styles. Confidence, charm, and intimidation."
Max raised a hand again. "What if my intimidation walk looks like I just committed a minor crime and am trying to escape the scene calmly?"
Scarlett leaned against the vanity, amused. "Then we call it criminal chic and sell it to Vogue."
Caroline cracked a grin. "Honestly, that might work."
Rachel handed Max a new outfit. "Change into this. Streetwear test. You've got ten minutes. Then glam."
Max took the outfit and marched off dramatically.
"You hear that, world?" she shouted over her shoulder. "Max Black's face is going global. Oh yeah, baby."
Max stomped into the changing room with the flair of someone preparing for battle, not couture. Behind her, Rachel muttered something into her mic about lighting rigs and street set mockups. Scarlett, now seated with one ankle resting on her knee, scrolled through a tablet showing the early shots of Max in the sequined jumpsuit.
She squinted. Then she blinked. Then she turned the screen to Caroline.
"Okay, is it just me or does Max look way too hot in these?"
Caroline peered over. "That's not just hot. That's thirst trap levels of dangerous."
Scarlett flipped through a few more images and pointed to one where Max was mid-turn, hair flipping, jumpsuit catching every single ray of light like it owed her money.
"This is not normal," Scarlett said. "She looks like she's about to seduce the entire advertising industry."
Rachel passed by, glanced at the screen, then did a double take.
"Oh wow. That lighting caught her curves just right. That's borderline illegal."
Scarlett leaned back. "Look at that. Hourglass figure, confidence in the eyes, and boobs that could start a religion."
Caroline deadpanned. "The Church of the Blessed Max. Services every Friday. BYO-fan."
Scarlett smirked. "No, no. The Cult of Max Black. Devoted followers worship the divine cleavage and the holy sass."
Rachel, barely missing a beat, added, "Their sacred texts are just transcriptions of every sarcastic thing she's ever said."
Scarlett nodded solemnly. "Their holy relic? That one photo where she bit the energy bar and stared down the lens like she owned every man's soul."
The door to the changing room cracked open.
Max popped her head out, eyes suspicious. "Why do I feel like you're talking about me?"
Scarlett smiled, all innocence and mischief. "Oh, just saying how hot you look in this next outfit. Honestly, if you walk down that catwalk the way you walked into the break room on pizza day? The camera might combust."
Max stepped out in her streetwear test outfit: a cropped leather jacket, distressed jeans, combat boots, and a fitted tank top that made her cleavage look like a Marvel origin story. Her hair was tousled like she fought a storm and won. Her walk was unsure, but her body was delivering accidental supermodel.
Scarlett raised both hands in surrender. "Yup. It's over. Men are doomed. Somewhere, a lonely photographer is falling in love with her shadow."
Caroline gave Max a slow once-over. "You look like someone who drinks whiskey, rides a motorcycle, and has three exes crying in a group chat about you."
Max blinked. "Wait. Is that good or bad?"
Scarlett stood up. "It's phenomenal. You look like you walked out of a perfume ad where the only scent is 'Regret and Desire.'"
Rachel didn't look up from her tablet. "We're going viral. I can already hear the 'who is this girl?' TikTok edits in my head."
Max stared at them, cheeks flushing slightly, arms crossed over her chest. "Okay. Calm down. It's not like I asked for the twins to show up uninvited."
Scarlett snorted. "The twins brought backup. You're a one-woman uprising against bland fashion."
Caroline looked thoughtful. "You know… if this keeps up, we will have to install a velvet rope and bodyguards just to get her through Starbucks."
Max rolled her eyes but grinned. "Well, I always said if I'm gonna be famous, I want it to be for something classy. Like world peace. Or boobs."
Rachel clapped once. "Max, take your place on the stage. It's time for your walk. And remember—channel chaos."
Max cracked her neck. "Oh, I've got chaos in my bloodstream."
As she strutted to the mock runway, Scarlett muttered to Caroline, "You think she knows she's the main reason straight men are about to stop pretending they're not into fashion?"
Caroline deadpanned, "She'll figure it out when Vogue asks her to co-host the Met Gala wearing a crop top and spite."
Scarlett laughed. "Long live the Cult of Max Black."
And as Max hit the runway, hips swinging with reluctant confidence, hair bouncing with every step, one of the female photographers leaned into his mic and whispered, "I think I just found religion."
"Well, even girls are falling for her," Caroline whispered.
[A couple of shots later...] [Approx. 15 minutes]
Max had just wrapped her last pose of the streetwear segment, striking one final angle with a dramatic hip pop that screamed accidental icon. The camera flash died down, and she exhaled, flopping into a nearby makeup chair like she had just returned from war.
Rachel, from across the room, called out, "Alright, Max, take five. Caroline, you're up!"
Caroline didn't wait. She walked up like she owned the floor: cool, smooth, heels clicking like punctuation marks. Her next outfit was all power: a high-slit blazer dress in dark maroon, cinched at the waist, paired with thigh-high boots that looked like they cost more than a car.
She stepped in front of the lens, turned once, and held the look.
The camera snapped. Then again. And again.
Max watched from the side, holding a bottled water like it was popcorn.
"Is it just me, or is she really gliding?" Max muttered, half-awed, half-annoyed.
Scarlett strolled up beside her, arms crossed, observing the shoot like a talent scout with sass. "That's because she's got the ex-rich-girl strut. Practiced it in marble hallways since birth."
Max narrowed her eyes. "I grew up dodging rats and landlords. Closest I got to marble was discount tile that peeled like a sunburn."
Scarlett grinned. "Then it's time we fix that. Come on." She grabbed Max's wrist and yanked her to the side of the room where a stretch of open floor served as a makeshift runway.
Max froze. "Whoa, whoa. This is how horror movies start."
Scarlett didn't slow down. "This is a crash course in high fashion survival. First rule: posture. Shoulders back, spine straight, like you're trying to intimidate someone while also pretending you don't care."
Max puffed her chest slightly. "Like I'm demanding a refund with subtle menace?"
"Exactly. Now, watch carefully," Scarlett said as she walked with confidence without a hint of fear in her eyes.
"Wow! You are like... Perfect," Max whistled.
"Your turn," Scarlett said as she stopped.
Max took a step, then another. It was… technically a walk.
Scarlett raised an eyebrow. "You're stomping like a raccoon who just realized the trash can is empty."
Max winced. "Okay, rude but accurate."
"Try again," Scarlett said. "But this time, imagine you're walking away from your ex... after dropping a line like 'you'll never find better.'"
Max lit up. "Ooooh. Got it."
She turned, flipped her hair, and walked.
And this time? It was deadly.
Smooth. Sassy. Lethal.
'What the hell? She did it with just that much guidance? A fast learner or just... Talent! Raw talent...' Scarlett whistled. "See? There's the chaos energy."
Rachel, watching from across the room while managing lighting cues, called out without looking up, "Save that for the glam set. That's Titan Aevum energy."
Scarlett made Max practice some more steps and even helped her with her expression. And she was really surprised to see Max's natural talent. She did it with just a few advice. Heck, even Scarlett wasn't that good when she first started. It took years to perfect herself, but that busty girl before her was just... Too good.
'Dang! I should be jealous. But it's like, I'm kinda proud. Wow! Max Black,' Scarlett thought as she looked toward Caroline, who was too perfect. She didn't require any help with the posing. 'And the blonde... They are going to break some hearts soon...'
Max turned back, panting slightly. "My thighs weren't ready for this much empowerment."
Scarlett tossed her a towel. "Better get used to it. Fame's a cardio-heavy lifestyle."
Over on set, Caroline finished her final pose. She looked back over her shoulder, hair falling perfectly into place, eyes locked on the camera with that faint smirk of 'I know I'm better than you, but I'm too bored to rub it in.'
The photographer dropped her camera from her face. "We got it."
Caroline walked back toward the others like a queen returning from battle. "You're up next for glam, Max."
Max wiped her forehead with the towel. "Can I be glam while lying down? Or glam in a hoodie? Emotional glam?"
Rachel passed her another outfit. This one sparkled like stars and screamed expensive mistake at midnight.
Max stared at it.
Scarlett smirked. "Oh yeah. You're gonna slay."
Max groaned. "Fine. But if this ends with me on the cover of Vogue, I want it to say 'Accidentally Gorgeous: The Reluctant Diva Who Ate Twelve Tacos Before Her Shoot.'"
Caroline gave her a high five as they passed. "See you in the Hall of Icons."
Max held the outfit up. "This better have snacks built in."
With that, both girls continued on with their rehearsal.
...
[Back to Alex]
After dinner, Alex reached down beside his chair and slid the thin folder across the table to Angelina.
She looked at it, curious but relaxed. "Everything in here?"
He nodded. "Contract, shoot schedule, creative briefs. Legal details. You're all set."
Angelina ran a finger along the folder's edge but didn't open it. Instead, she slipped it under her arm with a small smile.
"Alright. I'll go through it tonight."
Alex stood as she did, walking with her toward the exit. Outside, the air was cooler now, the street quiet, and thanks to the security, no paparazzi. Her Audi waited under one of the security lights.
They walked together.
He opened the door for her.
"Thanks for tonight," she said. "For the food. For trusting me with this."
"You better bring your A game tomorrow," Alex said with a little smile.
She gave him a long look, then a smile. "You're different, Alex. In a good way. And not to worry. You won't regret it."
He leaned slightly on the door. "I'll take that as a win."
Angelina slid into the car, closed the door, started the engine, and glanced back at him one last time. "Good night. Mr. Wilson."
"Good night. Miss Jolie."
She then drove off.
Alex watched the Audi disappear down the street, the red taillights shrinking until they were gone. Then he also drove back to his penthouse.
Everything's ready. Team locked. Tomorrow is game day.
[1 hour later] [Alex's penthouse]
Alex took off his clothes, tossed them onto a nearby chair, and hit the shower. Quick. Hot. Just enough to clear his mind.
After the shower...
In the bedroom, he dropped into bed, arms behind his head, city lights crawling across the ceiling. Tomorrow would be intense. Cameras. Headlines. Models. Momentum.
Alex took his phone and dialed Lilly's number. It's been a few days since they talked due to their busy schedule. So, he just wanted to check on her.
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[7 advance chs] [All chs available for all tiers]
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AN: The Cupcake girls are gonna go global, soon. Oh, by the way, how many of you still remember Todd? Just asking. 😅