Victor was politely but firmly guided off the stage, replaced by Zara and her own team of three assistants.
The cameras reset. The lights shifted again. Victor found himself standing awkwardly near a rack of outfits as stylists once fawning over him now rushed to steam Zara's cape.
He had to admit...
It was... infuriating. And a little humiliating.
Victor folded his arms. He could've walked out.
But something in him refused.
Alyss came over sheepishly. "Maybe… we could do a joint shoot? Let you two share a few frames?"
She didn't want Victor to feel ignored.
Zara scoffed. "Him? With me?"
But she didn't outright say no.
So Victor was placed beside her in the next batch of photos. Zara stood front and center in every frame, tossing her hair back dramatically, always a step ahead of him.
In most shots, she physically shoved Victor aside with her arm, just enough that the lens couldn't frame him properly.
A few assistants tried to correct her posture. She ignored them.
