But now, in the dark, with the cameras off and her glam team dismissed, the tear had been real for the wrong reasons. She wasn’t lonely because she was famous. She was lonely because she had engineered every room in her life to echo.
For the first time in years, Lacey Jayne listened to the sound of nothing—and didn't rush to fill it. lacey jayne interrogating her ass
She stayed there until the city dimmed, then picked up her phone again. Not to post. Not to check her mentions. She opened a private note, one she’d never synced to the cloud, and typed: But now, in the dark, with the cameras
A dull ache spread behind her ribs. Not a heart attack—probably not—just the slow realization that she had turned her own interior life into a brand, and the brand had consumed the original blueprint. For the first time in years, Lacey Jayne