The lights flicked on to reveal a room awash in a sea of pink: wallpaper, wardrobe, queen–sized bed, curtains, and even the writing desk. It was as if everything, barring the floor, had surrendered to the hue. Mirabe blinked. Her eyes felt assaulted by the color.


    Delh stood proudly amidst her creation, the princess room she had meticulously arranged. “This design masterminded by a renowned interior designer. What do you think? Isn’t it girly, dreamy, and cozy?”


    Mirabe’s lips twitched subtly. She scanned the room once more, finding little topliment in the style that seemed devoid of aesthetic appeal. A well–known designer surely wouldn’t tarnish their reputation, she mused. Therefore, it was highly likely that her mother had been duped. After all many shady decorators were notorious for exploiting the designerbel to fleece unsuspecting clients.


    Pondering for a few seconds and determined not to crush her mother’s spirit, Mirabe finally responded with a measured. “If you’re happy with it, that’s what matters.”


    As her yawned, her stunning features softened in the warm light, a veil of fatigue barely concealing her weariness.


    Delh touched her nose, sensing an ambiguous undertone to her daughter’s words. But with Mirabe’s drowsiness. she decided not to probe further and simply advised her to rest well before leaving the room.


    Once the door shut, Mirabe pressed her fingers against her temples, surrounded by an unrelenting sea of pink.


    She unpacked her suitcase, retrieved her pajamas, and headed straight for the bathroom. She was, indeed, exhausted. Afterpeting in the city, she rushed back to the county early in the morning and then traveled non–stop to Ashford. Even the most resilient would feel the toll of such a day.


    Meanwhile, back at the Gilbert family home. Summer couldn’t sleep. Tossing and turning, she thought about Mirabe. about the way her foster parents had treated her that evening. Frustrated<b>, </b>she grabbed her phone and started scrolling through Twitter.


    Since joining Superstar Camp, Summer’s sweet voice and cute image had garnered countless fans. With her agency pushing her image through various channels, she became a fixture in the public eye. Thus, hertest airport photos with a few fans naturally made their way onto Twitter’s trending topics.


    The photos were ttering. Her fans had polished them up. Within just a couple of hours<b>, </b>thements had surged to nearly ten thousand–a testament to her skyrocketing poprity despite not having officially debuted.


    The only w was that two of the photos captured Mirabe’s silhouette in the background. While her face <b>was </b>obscured, and the fans had blurred the backdrop, Mirabe’s tall, slender figure and her distinctive aura somehow added a mysterious beauty to the images. It was indistinct yet intriguing.


    Summer frowned, finding the two photos irksome. After a <b>few </b>seconds of contemtion, she began reading thements. Although some fans were curious about the masked person, their inquiries wentrgely unnoticed, swallowed up by the <b>sea </b>ofments.


    Summer exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and continued scrolling through the adtions, which gradually soothed her sour mood. She chided herself for the ridiculous sense of threat she had felt earlier.


    So what if Mirabe, that country bumpkin, is easy on the eyes? She’s still a coarse, vulgar person with no redeeming qualities, just a pretty face. And even if she goes back to the Davis family, what difference does it make? Could she ever outshine Summer?


    With a scoff, Summer turned off her phone.