Chapter 50: Soon to be his.

Chapter 50: Soon to be his.
Belinda’s POV

“And the top model of the month award goes to…”

A heavy silence fell over the hall, the kind that feels louder than thunder. Every whisper died and every breath was held back. Even the air outside seemed to pause, all waiting for the name to be spoken.

My chest rose and fell too fast. My hands trembled slightly where they rested on my lap. If my ears could stretch, they would have reached the platform where the announcer stood with a glittering golden envelope in hand.

God, please let it be me. Please, I’ve worked too hard for this.

My eyelids fluttered shut. In the suffocating silence, I could hear the drum of my heartbeat echoing inside me like war drums.

This was the monthly award and recognition night, a night every model in the company lived for. The best model of the month gained not just the title, but power, influence, and most importantly, visibility.

“I need Madam Charlie to help me present this award,” the announcer’s voice rang out, breaking the silence.

Gasps and claps filled the hall instantly.

Madam Charlie… the great international fashion icon, the legend herself. The woman everyone in this room worshiped secretly and openly.

All eyes turned as she rose gracefully from her seat, the light catching her long, silky red gown with its daring slit that revealed those endless, long, sexy legs. Her blonde pixie cut gleamed under the lights, her makeup was the perfect mix of elegance and fire. Her lips glowed like crimson glass, as if kissed by sunlight. She moved with that kind of arrogance only the truly powerful carried, every step of her high heels holding a soft command. Two bodyguards followed, but even they seemed to fade behind her aura.

I swallowed hard and my throat ran dry. My eyes stuck to her, drinking in every detail and for a moment, I forgot myself and simply stared. If only…

If only I could reach this level. If only I could become her. Then maybe I wouldn’t need to fight this hard, to play these games, to scheme every day.

“Oh, I am so honored,” her silky voice rolled into the microphone. A siren’s voice, the kind that could hypnotize the whole room.

My chest tightened and my knees knocked together under the table.

“The award of the best model of the month goes to…” she paused, letting suspense choke us all. Then, like music, like a crown placed on my head, the words left her lips—

“Belinda Marie Carlisle.”

My name.

My name echoed through the hall.

For a split second, I thought my heart had exploded. Then it raced, faster, harder, almost hurting. My breath hitched and my vision blurred for a moment as the hall erupted into cheers, applause, and flashing lights. People stood, clapping, smiling, turning to look at me.

Me.

I was the star.

I pressed my hand to my lips, tears gathering in my eyes.

Slowly, shakily, I stood. My legs were weak but carried by adrenaline. My golden dress clung to me, shimmering under the spotlight as if it knew it belonged there.

“Yes! Yes!” someone from my table shouted, pulling me into a hug before I gently pushed away, my eyes fixed on the stage.

I climbed the stairs, every step echoing with my own disbelief. Madam Charlie extended the award, shiny, heavy, perfect.

My fingers wrapped around it, trembling.

“Oh my God,” I whispered into the mic when it was handed to me. The room quieted, waiting for my voice. “I… I don’t even know where to start. This—this means the world to me. Every night I stayed awake practicing, every tear, every bruise, every moment I wanted to quit but didn’t all paid off tonight. Thank you, thank you so much.”

Applause thundered again and my chest swelled so big I thought it might burst.

But inside, hidden behind my bright smile, another thought danced like fire.

This isn’t just an award… This is a step closer, this is my plan, my path to Damien.

The Top Model of the Month would be rewarded with more than recognition. The prize included a special dinner with Damien himself—the man who had haunted my dreams for months.

My lips curled in a smile that wasn’t just joy, it was triumph.

The night blurred into endless congratulations, handshakes, hugs, flashing cameras, and champagne toasts. My fellow models patted my back, though some eyes glimmered with envy. The managers praised me, photographers begged for a shot, and even Madam Charlie whispered, “Well done, darling,” before sweeping away.

By the end of it, my cheeks hurt from smiling, but I didn’t care.

Finally, when the hall began to empty, one of the agency’s black luxury cars was sent to take me home. I slid into the plush leather seat, clutching the award to my chest like it was oxygen. The city lights blurred past the tinted windows, and I caught my reflection smiling at me.

Tonight is mine.

The car stopped in front of the house I had recently bought. It was modern, spacious, and everything I had dreamed of.

I stepped out with my heels clicking against the driveway, the night air cool on my flushed skin.

But the moment I pushed the door open, my heart stuttered.

On the couch sat Anneliese. Her face was pale, her eyes red and swollen from crying. Her hands clutched a piece of paper like it was poison.

“Anne?” My voice cracked in surprise. “What’s going on? Why are you here? What happened?”

She looked up at me, her lips trembling.

“Belinda…” she whispered, her voice breaking. “He… he gave me divorce papers.”

For a second, silence swallowed me whole. Then the words replayed, and I felt something dark, something hot ignite inside me.

Divorce.

Damien wanted to divorce her.

I should have gasped, I should have felt pity, I should have held her and cried with her. But inside, deep inside, excitement flowed.

This was it.

This was the opening I needed. It was as if fate itself was pulling him away from her… and closer to me.

Still, I controlled my expression and rushed to her side, dropping my award carefully on the table.

“Oh, Anne,” I whispered, sliding an arm around her shaking shoulders. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Her tears fell harder and she pushed the papers at me, sobbing. “Why, Belinda? I don’t know why I can’t just stop these stupid tears. I’m not crying because I don’t want to divorce, okay? I’m crying because this is not my plan… I’ve never dreamed of a divorce. Why me? What have I done?”

My heart pounded with joy, but I stroked her hair gently, rocking her like a baby. “You did nothing wrong, sweetheart. Sometimes… sometimes life can be cruel. But maybe… maybe this is for the best, maybe you should sign it and free yourself.”

She turned to me with wide, wet eyes. “You really think so?”

I gave her a soft, supportive smile, though my mind screamed Yes, yes, sign it! Give him up!

“Yes,” I said, wiping her tears. “You deserve peace. You deserve happiness. Don’t let this break you.”

She nodded weakly, sniffling, leaning into my comfort.

We stayed like that for hours, me playing the perfect supportive friend, whispering soothing words, guiding her trembling hand toward acceptance.

All the while, inside me, victory tasted sweet.

Later, when she finally calmed enough to fall asleep on the couch, I slipped away to my room, my award still glittering on the table.

I lay on my bed, my heart still racing, my lips stretched in a smile I couldn’t erase.

Tonight wasn’t just a win. It was destiny.

Anneliese would let him go and I would be there, waiting, ready, and perfect.

That night, I fell asleep not as Belinda the model, not even as Belinda the award winner… but as Belinda, the woman who would soon become Damien’s wife.