"Wake up!" "Come on, Bray, move." A hand yanked my shoulder and the fluorescent light stabbed the back of my eyes. I sat up because my body obeyed, not because it felt like mine. Someone shoved a clipboard into my face. "Molly's not on the floor yet," an intern said. "She's going to rip you apart if you're late." "You did not sleep through this," another added. "The brand liaison is here. If you're out, ACE will—" "Quiet," Molly barked before I could answer. She was all sharp edges and perfume even from across the room. She shoved a greasy stack of task lists at me like a judge slamming evidence down. "You have ten minutes to be in makeup. Ten. Tonight's VIP inspection, make sure you're ready, or I will make sure Global remembers why we don't keep loose ends." "Loose ends?" I echoed because the word landed like a weight. They laughed, three small, practiced laughs, the kind people use when they're watching someone else fall. I bolted upright, hands clamped around the clipboard because it was the only solid thing in a room that felt like it might tilt and spill me out. My hand knocked another woman's arm as she passed. I grabbed reflexively. Good—her scandal keeps views up. The thought hit me like a cut, sharp and unwanted. Not a voice from outside. Not a whisper inside my head. It was theirs, as clean and