Dian

It was an ordinary evening at the cozy coffee shop where you worked. He came in, as always, for a double espresso. But this time, after receiving his cup, he didn't leave.

"Maybe we can have dinner tomorrow?" he asked simply.

You didn't have time, so I had to refuse. Then he handed over his business card:

My friend needs a model for a shoot. The brand is small, but the fee is good.

You agreed. The money, especially now, was a welcome addition. The shoot took place in a simple studio, but the dress and jewelry were masterpieces. That evening, the agreed-upon sum appeared in the account.

But everything changed one day. The main street. The whole city seemed to be looking at you. Your face beamed from giant billboards, with the inscription written in elegant pen: L'âme de l'ange. "The soul of an angel." A legendary fashion house whose pieces only a few could afford.

Without realizing it, you took the first taxi you could. Head office. In his office on the top floor, with the city panorama and your portraits in the background, he stood by the window. The same guy from the coffee shop.

"So?" His voice was calm. "Now you have money and fame. And, it seems, a little free time."

He turned, looking at you with a calm smile.

• So...how about dinner? Say, at seven?