She Ripped My Dress, I Burned Her World

Whether in training or at mealtime, she stayed far away from me, afraid I’d catch her slip up again.

She began currying favor with the Runway Director and the other teammates—buying them drinks during practice, bringing them food at meal times, and even treating them to dinners afterward.

Her constant flattery gradually made everyone forget the nasty things she had done.

Grace Parker saw me ignoring Vanessa Miller and even tried to persuade me.

“Look, Vanessa knows she was wrong, and she’s changed. Can’t you just forgive her and be friends again?”

I didn’t want to talk, nor did I care to explain. Some people are rotten to the core—whatever they do on the surface is only pretense. She was only waiting for another chance to ruin me completely.

That Friday morning, we had an internal competition to decide who would qualify for the upcoming National Tour. Every one of us was eager—joining the tour was our dream. It meant traveling across the country, experiencing different cultures, and even earning cash prizes for outstanding performances.

By coincidence, Vanessa and I were assigned to neighboring groups—she was in Group 2, I was in Group 3.

Before going on stage, I glanced at her face. She glared at me with such venom it was as if her eyes alone could kill me. I turned away, regaining unprecedented confidence, focusing only on shining brightly on the runway.

As the music began, I walked gracefully down the stage, every step elegant, confident, and perfect.

Vanessa came up beside me, but her stride looked forced, and at times she nearly stumbled. Suddenly, she hurried to catch up, pretending to toss her hair while reaching for my zipper.

I spun just in time, dodging perfectly. She lost her balance and twisted her ankle.

I finished the entire performance flawlessly, while Vanessa had to be helped off stage halfway through.

Naturally, the qualification for the tour went to me. She was eliminated. The irony was that if she hadn’t schemed against me, her own talent might have won her a place too.

As I approached the Runway Director, I heard her already making accusations.

“Director, I could have been selected, but Emily Sanders tripped me on stage! That’s why I twisted my ankle.”

She played the victim so well she fooled not only the director but also the entire audience. When she saw me approach, her act grew even more pitiful.

I sneered.

“Who tripped whom is far from clear.”

Vanessa lost her composure.

“You’re lying! You sabotaged me because you were afraid I’d surpass you. Director, please make this right!”

The Runway Director’s face darkened.

“Explain yourselves—who tripped whom?”

The teammates murmured.

“Who’s telling the truth?”

“Using dirty tricks in fair competition? That’s not worthy of a real model.”

Vanessa jumped in, echoing them.

“Exactly! Director, someone like her doesn’t belong here. Kick her out before she harms anyone else.”

I cut her off and turned to the director.

“The truth of who made the move is obvious. Director, I request the surveillance footage.”

Vanessa’s face went pale, but she quickly composed herself.