The headlines the next morning were not kind to the Vale family.
[TAX FRAUD? Lydia Laurent Under Investigation After Stepmother-Daughter Showdown!][The Queen Reclaims Her Crown: Aria Vale Recovering Stolen Heirlooms is the Energy We Need in 2024.][Who Wore it Better? Spoiler: It Wasn't Lydia.]
Aria scrolled through the articles on her phone while Coco, her stylist, aggressively pinned a wig onto her head.
"Honey, you didn't just spill the tea," Coco said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as he adjusted a gold hairpin. "You smashed the teapot, ground the porcelain into dust, and snorted it. The internet is worshipping you. I have three designers begging to dress you for the premiere."
Aria smiled at her reflection. "Only three? I must be slipping."
She was back in the Master Dressing Room of Studio 4. The air here was lighter today. The suffocating tension of being the underdog was gone, replaced by the crisp, efficient atmosphere of someone who held all the cards.
