The elevator doors slid open on the executive floor with a soft chime. Heads turned instantly. Phones were lowered mid-scroll. Conversations died. Emily stepped out in sky-high heels, cream trench coat draped open over a scarlet dress that hugged every curve like it had been sewn onto her skin. Her red hair caught the overhead lights and burned.
A junior analyst froze, coffee halfway to his mouth. “Is that…?”
“Emily Madrigo,” someone whispered behind a cubicle wall. “The model. Holy shit.”
She smiled—slow, practiced, devastating—and the floor tilted toward her.
A marketing coordinator was the first to break. “Oh my God, can I get a selfie? My sister’s obsessed with you.”
Emily laughed, light and generous. “Of course, darling. Come here.”
Within seconds there were five people around h
