Ambrose has been in love with his best friend, Lana Hart, for years.
But she tied the knot with the love of her life three years ago, leaving Ambrose broken-hearted and disillusioned about love.
Enter Davina, the most difficult girl Ambrose has ever...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Decisions.
It could go right or wrong. That's why scientists spent hours researching data to support their thesis. As I got my makeup done, I weighed both options heavily and couldn't figure out which angle I was leaning towards. Wesley came from a big Italian family who've struggled with job after job to collect enough money for his cooking academy.
He deserved to win the grand prize. Sure, the grand prize was incredible and I would love it, but I already had my shot. Seventeen years ago. I could give him the money that came along with the grand prize so his schooling would be paid off. But I felt so dirty to take away his win.
I'm privileged.
Regardless of the result, I would be okay because I had an established career. Wesley was a newcomer. The media would invite him to talk shows, sketch shows, maybe a few commercials, but slowly, everything fizzled out. If he won, Wesley would've got a cooking show under his belt which could lead to another cooking competition, maybe even recruited as a judge.
"D, congratulations!" Milo announced, storming into the room.
My eyebrows bunched together. "Congratulations on what?"
Milo tapped the Airpod in his ear. "On winner of the competition. Isn't that obvious?"
"But we haven't even started yet..." I drawed out in confusion.
"Didn't you read the contract when you signed it? I told you to read everything before signing onto things. That's how you got yourself into that little fisac-."
My face cringed. "Yeah, yeah. It isn't my fault that those contracts are like two-hundred pages. My hand hurts to turn every page."
"That's why you have Ambrose," Milo joked.
I sent him a glare. "Anyway, what did the contract say?"
"That you're winning this shit," Milo confessed, causing all the color to drain from my face.
"Huh?"
Milo laughed. "You didn't think I would let you participate in the competition without pulling some strings."
Frustration nipped me like a bug bite. "Are you implying you didn't have faith I could win this competition without it?"
He sighed, forcing his fingers through his gelled hair. "Davina, a few months ago, you barely went a night without drinking or partying. I did what I had to do, so your career would take off. You don't pay me to make you look pretty, you pay me to make you into a star and I'm doing my job."
My eyebrows scrunched in exasperation. "But at the expense of others? Did I even make it this far because of my skills or because of the contract?"
Milo shrugged. "Why does it matter?"
"It does to me," I stated, droplets of despair spilling through my veins.
"You want to hear the truth?" Milo asked, his eyes glistening with aggravation. "Fine. I hate to break the imaginary world you live in, but your skills plummeted after your accident. You drank away any potential you had. All these opportunities are falling in your lap because of me."
