"Hey, ugly, want to take a selfie with me?" Hazel asked, her tone dripping with mockery. Meesha felt a sting of humiliation and shook her head. "No, thanks."

  Hazel turned to her entourage, a sly smile spreading across her face. "Looks like 'Monkey Face' doesn't want to take a pic because she's ugly." The other girls snickered and chimed in with insults.

  "Such a chimp!" one of them jeered.

  "Yeah, she looks like she belongs in a zoo!" another added.

  Meesha's eyes welled up with tears as she looked up at Hazel and her entourage. Her voice barely above a whisper, she muttered, "I'm not ugly."

  Hazel's smile grew wider, and she leaned in, her voice dripping with venom. "Oh, sweetie, you're not just ugly – you're a mess. And nobody wants to take a picture with a mess."

  Meesha's eyes dropped, her face burning with humiliation as Hazel's entourage continued their verbal assault. She had never felt so belittled in her life.

  "Look at her, she's got a face only a mother could love!" one of them cackled.

  "Yeah, what's with those clothes? She looks like she raided a thrift store!" another sneered.

  "I'm sure she's just a broke-ass nobody!" another scoffed.

  Hazel chimed in, her voice scornful. "I mean, seriously, what makes her think she can participate in this competition? She's got zero talent, zero looks... she's just a waste of space!"

  The group erupted into laughter, their mocking gazes piercing Meesha like knives.

  "Poor thing, she thinks she can win?" one of them jeered. "She can't even win a prize for 'Most Likely to Be Forgotten'!"

  Hazel's smiled, her eyes gleaming with triumph. "I'm the queen, and everyone knows it. I'm the one with the talent, the looks, and the fame. This... thing is just a pathetic wannabe!"

  The group, along with the crowd, began to chant, their voices rising in a crescendo of mockery. "Hazel, Hazel, Hazel! Queen of the competition! Hazel, Hazel, Hazel!"

  Meesha's face burned with shame, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. She had tried to boost her confidence with makeup, but it seemed like no matter what she did, she was still deemed "ugly" by others.

  A painful realization crept in: if she was considered ugly with makeup, how would she be perceived without it? The thought sent a shiver down her spine, and she felt like she was staring into an abyss of self-doubt.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Meesha's enthusiasm for the competition began to wane, replaced by a sense of hopelessness. What was the point of participating if she was just going to be ridiculed and belittled? She felt like she didn't belong, like she was just a pathetic outsider trying to fit in.

  As she sat there, feeling sorry for herself, Meesha wondered if she had the courage to continue.

  *******

  Davis and the manager emerged from the office, and Davis's gaze instinctively shifted to Meesha. He noticed her enthusiasm had waned, replaced by a somber expression, and wondered what had caused the change.

  Davis turned to the manager, nodding discreetly toward Meesha. "That's the woman," he said, his eyes flicking to Meesha. "The one with blue hair."

  The manager's gaze followed, his eyes widening in horror. "That's Mr. Qren's woman?" the manager whispered in disbelief. "But she's so—"

  Davis's glance silenced him, his eyes flashing in a subtle warning. The manager face paled and hastily composed himself, laughing awkwardly. "Hehehe…You can rest assured. We'll ensure she gets nominated and receives the best treatment during the competition," he assured. "Please, send our thanks to Mr. Qren for sponsoring our event."

  Davis's smiled, knowing the sole reason behind Xanqer's sponsorship. After reviewing the competition's standards, Xanqer deemed the house conditions inadequate for 'his Meesha' and invested millions to refurbish the environment.

  Soon, the audition started. As the auditions progressed, Meesha's turn finally arrived. The host announced, "Next is Contestant 43." Meesha stood up, her hands clutching the hem of her skirt nervously. She made her way out of the rows of seats and began her walk toward the spotlight.

  Her legs trembled beneath her as she walked and her composure threatened to betray her.

  As she descended the stairs, she saw the ladies in the crowd pointing fingers and giggling at her appearance, making her little ounce of confidence vanish.

  Meesha tried to ignore them, and continued her pace. But as she was about to take the next step, her foot slipped beneath her. Meesha's eyes widened in horror as she felt herself losing balance. Her arms flailed wildly, but it was too late. She crashed onto the stage, the loud thud of her fall echoing through the venue.

  "Hahaha!" The crowd erupted into laughter, their mocking gazes piercing Meesha like knives. Meesha's face burned with shame, her eyes welling up with tears. She had never felt so embarrassed, so humiliated, in her entire life.

  As she struggled to get up, her hands trembled, and her vision blurred. The spotlight above her seemed to intensify, highlighting her embarrassment for all to see. Meesha's only desire was to disappear, to escape the mocking gazes and the cruel laughter. But she was trapped, alone and vulnerable on the stage.

  Davis watched anxiously from the corner, his eyes fixed on Meesha as she struggled to get up. He knew Xanqer's wrath would be unforgiving if Meesha was hurt. With a swift motion, Davis turned to the team, his voice low and urgent. "What are you still waiting for? Go and help her up!"

  The team sprang into action, rushing to Meesha's side to assist her. Meesha's eyes widened in surprise as they fawned over her, inquiring about her well-being. The ladies in the crowd exchanged curious glances, sensing a shift in the team's behavior.

  The manager approached Meesha, his brow furrowed in concern. "Miss Dasilva, are you alright? Did you get hurt?"

  Meesha reassured him, still perplexed by the sudden attention. "No, I just fell. It's nothing much."

  The manager's expression transformed from worry to relief, his tense shoulders relaxing. However, his composure was short-lived. He knew the stakes were high, and even a single scratch could have dire consequences. He turned to the team, his voice thundering. "What is wrong with you all? Why did you let her trip?"

  The team cowered, their eyes downcast in fear.

  Meesha attempted to intervene, but the manager gently silenced her. "Please, leave this to me." He turned back to the team, his expression fierce. "Why didn't you check the stairs properly before she came down? Do you all want to lose your lives? After today, don't let me see you here again."

  The team's faces fell, their hopes of redemption dashed. Meesha watched, bewildered. The crowd also watched the scene unfold, a mixture of surprise and amusement on their faces. Hazel, however, seethed with envy, her eyes narrowing as she whispered to her entourage. "The manager fired the team because of that ugly woman. What's so special about her?"

  The director's voice boomed, interrupting the murmurs. "Walk her to the center stage right now!"

  Meesha's eyes widened as the team, now cowed, escorted her to the center stage. She wondered what was behind the special treatment – had they discovered her true identity?

  As Meesha regained her composure, she answered the questions with renewed confidence. She got nominated and the other ladies couldn't help but be shocked. However, her poise was short-lived, as the photographer approached, his request making her heart skip a beat. "Can you please take off your makeup for the ID photo? It's requires your natural looks."

  Meesha's eyes pleaded as she whispered to the photographer, "I can't, I'm not really pretty. If I take off my makeup, everyone will know I'm ugly."

  The audience's laughter erupted once more, and Meesha's face burned with shame.