Eve squirmed under the scrutinizing gazes, feeling like a specimen under a microscope. Her curvaceous figure, while appealing in person, might translate to "bulky" on camera. She was a foodie at heart, and if she couldn't shed some pounds, this golden opportunity might slip through her fingers like sand in an hourglass.

Freya eyed Eve and clenched her fists, determination etched on her face. This was her shot, and she wasn't about to let it slip.

Debra, ever the keen observer, caught the silent exchange from the corner of her eye.

"This afternoon, you'll all head to the studio on the second floor for a promotional photo shoot," Hannah announced, turning on her heel to leave.

She paused, casting a glance at Eve. "You might want to skip lunch, Eve. The camera adds ten pounds, you know."

Eve waved off the concern, even as she began to calculate the calories she'd need to burn. "What's there to worry about? That's what Photoshop is for, right?"

Freya chimed in, "Eve, you should eat. You'll need the energy for the intense training later."

are only a few stars among

Henry Cameron's concern about nepotism, Eve

another trainee piped up. "Eve's got the pedigree, the looks, the skills, and the

you're all so dissatisfied with my leadership, feel free to take it up with Hannah. If Eve's got what it takes, I'd be happy

glared at Freya, her eyes sparkling with anger. "I've got what it takes, alright. If it weren't for protecting my

her hair and stalked

three seemed as fake as a knockoff designer bag, ready to fall apart

blood between Eve and Freya persisted into the afternoon. Makeup artists and stylists bustled around. Their numbers were pitifully small given the limited resources. The trainees were not happy about

QUMS

each get our own makeup artist? Why is the

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