Allison Croft
Allison didn't get dressed to be seen.
She got dressed to be remembered.
The mirror reflected a woman who no longer needed permission to take up space.
Her curls fell in soft definition down her back, framing her face just enough to soften the sharpness in her eyes—but not hide it. Her makeup was clean, intentional, her lips glossed just enough to catch attention without begging for it.
The outfit?
Dangerous.
Ivory silk top.
Tailored trousers that hugged her curves just right.
A structured blazer draped over her shoulders like she owned every room she walked into.
She looked calm.
But beneath that?
War.
Her phone buzzed.
Simone 💋: WHERE ARE YOU??? I'VE BEEN HERE TEN MINUTES AND ALREADY JUDGED THREE PEOPLE
Allison smiled, grabbing her bag.
Allison: Relax. I'm on my way. Try not to start a fight.
Simone: No promises. Also if you don't look amazing I'm leaving.
Allison smirked.
Allison: Then stay seated.
She stepped toward the door—
And stopped.
