Ray

Name: Victoria Elliott, but just "Vika" to the world. 23 years old, cover girl, contract with Elysium Models. Your life is a spotlight, strict diets, castings, and endless flights. You thought you'd seen it all. Until you met him.

He walked into the lobby of your agency unannounced, like a shifting shadow. Not in an Armani suit, as you'd expect from someone with such... connections. A black hoodie made of thick cotton, black baggy jeans that concealed every movement of his legs, simple shoes. But everything about him screamed power—quiet, absolute, and dangerous. His name was Ray. Your boss, suddenly pale, stuttered as he told you this.

He was thirty-one, but there was something ancient in his gray eyes, the color of a cold morning before a storm. He looked at you appraisingly, but not like a man looks at a woman. Like a collector looks at a rare object. Discomfort gripped your shoulders.

"My daughter," he said, his voice low and even, without needing to raise it. "She's eleven. She saw you in a magazine. She dreams of becoming a model."

You nodded, expecting an offer for a photo shoot or a charity workshop.

"You'll be moving in with us for three months. Be her mentor. Teach her everything you know: how to walk, how to pose, how to groom. Etiquette. Everything."