Chapter 4
“Did you hear?
About Wanda Sullivan’s endorsement—Sarah’s the one who really has the skills.”
The backstage changing area wasn’t soundproof.
I was changing behind a curtain.
Two female models were chatting outside.
“That Sarah?
I follow her.
Her followers are growing so fast.”
“Yeah.
She quietly paved the way for Sarah, and then Sarah turned around and stabbed her in the back.”
“Some people are just like that.
Get famous and forget where they came from.”
When I pulled back the curtain, they saw me.
Their expressions stiffened slightly.
But only slightly.
They didn’t think they’d said anything wrong.
Because everyone believed it.
Holly was waiting for me in the car.
“The brand scheduled a creative concept meeting for 3 PM.”
“Okay.”
“But there’s something you need to know first.”
Holly hesitated.
“The brand marketing department said… Sarah will also be there.”
I turned to look at her.
“She proactively contacted the brand’s marketing director and pitched a campaign direction called ‘Sisterly Transformation.’
The brand thinks the topic has strong potential and wants you to listen in together.”
“I’m not going.”
“I also want you to refuse.
But the brand’s wording was very firm—if you don’t come, they’ll reevaluate the partnership direction.”
My phone vibrated.
Unknown number sent a text.
“Wanda, see you this afternoon.
Ethan’s coming too.
He connected with the brand’s investment department.
Might be one big family soon.
—Sarah”
3 PM.
Brand headquarters.
I pushed open the conference room door.
Sarah sat on the right side of the long table.
Cream-colored knit dress.
Hair down.
Makeup so light it looked almost bare.
Her 98-pound body curled in the chair like a piece of porcelain ready to shatter at any touch.
Ethan sat beside her.
When he saw me, his expression looked uncomfortable.
But he still nodded politely.
That kind of politeness I knew too well.
Not the politeness of seeing a person.
The politeness of avoiding something.
The brand’s marketing director, Chris Lewis, stood up.
“Wanda, please sit.”
I sat directly across from Sarah.
“We’ve asked both of you here today to discuss a new creative direction.”
Chris opened the PowerPoint.
A set of concept images appeared on screen.
The frame split in two.
Left side: a blurry 180-pound silhouette from behind.
Right side: the profile of a slender girl reaching out her hand.
The slogan at the bottom read—“She walks ahead, I push from behind.”
“Sarah proposed a ‘Sisters Moving Forward Together’ narrative framework—with you as the primary spokesperson, and Sarah appearing as the behind-the-scenes guide.
Telling the story of how she helped you complete your transformation.”
“Very strong potential for social media promotion.”
Sarah kept her head down, her voice soft and steady.
“Wanda, I’m not trying to take your position.
I just want people to see how hard it was for you.”
“And that I’ve always been there.”
Ethan chimed in: “Right.
Sarah has no ulterior motives.
She just feels for Wanda.”
I looked at the concept images on the PowerPoint.
That blurry 180-pound silhouette on the left was taken from the first post on Sarah’s account.
Shot secretly from the balcony.
“Wanda, what do you think of this direction?”
Chris looked at me.
The conference room was very quiet.
Sarah looked up at me.
Eyes slightly red, lower lip gently bitten.
Ethan also looked at me.
His gaze heavy, carrying a kind of gentle pressure.
That kind of “you should be understanding,” “you shouldn’t make Sarah look bad” silent coercion.
I’d lived under that kind of gaze for over ten years.
Lived from 180 pounds to now.
“Director Lewis.
I don’t agree with this creative direction.”
Sarah’s expression froze for an instant.
Ethan frowned.
“The endorsement contract is with me.
The decision on creative direction lies with me and the brand.
Not with a third party.”
Chris looked troubled.
“But from a promotional perspective—”
“I’ll say it again.
I don’t agree.
If the brand insists on this direction, I can terminate the contract.”
The air solidified.
Sarah’s tears fell.
Fell at just the right moment.
“Wanda, do you really hate me that much?
I just wanted to help you.”
Ethan stood up.
“Wanda, can you not be so extreme?
It’s just a creative direction.
Sarah’s doing this for your own good.”
“Why are you always like this?
When people are good to you, you always think the worst.”
I picked up my bag.
“Director Lewis.
Give me an answer within three days.
Original plan, or termination.”
As I reached the door, Sarah’s voice came from behind.
No longer that soft, pitiful tone from before.
Very light.
But every word crystal clear.
“Wanda, you’re forgetting—without my story, you’re nothing.”