Ann Reed really was a stunner.
When she made her debut, dressed in striking red with bold lipstick and those long legs, she turned heads the second she appeared.
Her beauty was the kind that didn’t need tweaking—it was all-natural.
Twelve years later, even though she’d lost a bit of that baby-face plumpness, age only added an elegant charm.
Maria paused for a second, wondering if she’d unknowingly offended her or something.
But nope, they’d never even met before, so where’s the hostility coming from?
Something about Ann Reed’s stare made her skin crawl—like, actual goosebumps.
Honestly, Maria wasn’t about to waste time arguing.
She ignored her, opened up her makeup case, and casually hit ‘record’ on her phone before slipping it into her bag.
She glanced at Grace, noticing the tension all over her face, and threw her a silent “don’t panic” with a look.
Ann Reed frowned when she didn’t get a response.
“Hey, you!
I’m talking to you.
Did you not hear me?”
There had always been rumors swirling around Ann Reed acting all diva-like, but her team was always quick to spin it, sometimes even flipping the narrative to gain sympathy and rack up new fans.
Maria had heard bits and pieces, mostly thanks to Isabella—who couldn’t stand Ann Reed and had gone off about her more than once.
It all started when a friend of Isabella’s took a job as Ann Reed’s assistant and got treated like trash—screamed at constantly.
She quit the next day and went back to her hometown, totally burned out.
Later, she posted online about the treatment, and Ann Reed’s people came out swinging with “clarifications.” But then, a flood of hate DMs from Ann Reed’s fans hit the poor girl, pushing her into a mild depression—she didn’t step outside for over six months.
Isabella was furious, and she vented it all to Maria every chance she got.
Maria hadn’t really paid much attention back then, but seeing Ann Reed now brought all of Isabella’s rants back in full force.
Just from one look at Grace, she could tell this wasn’t a one-time thing.
Ann Reed clearly thrived on power trips.
Right on cue, the next moment proved her right.
“What kind of attitude is that?!” Ann Reed slammed the table, her eyes practically blazing.
Maria couldn’t be more done.
“Then don’t ask me to do your makeup.
Think you’re that important?
Get James to fire me, go ahead.
Otherwise?
Sit down and stop wasting my time.”
Honestly, if Ann Reed really could pull some strings and get her fired, Maria might even bake her a cake in gratitude.
Ann Reed was about to blow up again when her manager quickly pressed a hand on her shoulder and gave a subtle shake of the head.
She shot Maria a sharp glare, but thinking of why she was even here, she swallowed her temper—for now.
“What are you staring at?
Hurry up and do my makeup.
I’ve got a variety show to shoot soon, and I’m on a tight schedule.
Think you can afford to waste my time?”
Yeah, anyone can talk tough, and it’s not like she was in a rush.
But Maria wasn’t looking to stir up more drama.
Wordlessly, she got to work.
Ann Reed had great features to work with.
Maria had done makeup for all kinds of faces, but even she had to admit, Ann Reed’s skin was top-notch.
Pores?
Practically invisible.
Complexion?
Fair with a natural pink flush.
Not a single blemish.
The kind that looked camera-ready right out of bed.
Too bad good looks couldn’t fix a crap attitude.
In the industry, Ann Reed was the type whose looks were so stunning it was hard to deny—no matter how much someone might dislike her, they wouldn’t be able to call her ugly with a straight face.
Maria mentally mapped out Ann’s facial structure and quickly settled on a bold look for her.
But she soon realized—Ann Reed’s troublemaking had just gotten started.
“These products?
They’ve been used before, right?
I’ve got a cleanliness thing; I can’t share.
Go get a new set.”
Maria paused, expression cool as ice.
“The makeup comes from the Bennett Company.
Bring it up with James.”
Seriously, such a germaphobe but doesn’t even bring her own kit—clearly just trying to give her grief.
“You…” Ann Reed looked like she was gonna explode again.
Her manager nudged her with a firm whisper.
“Time’s running out.
Don’t make this drag on.”
Ann Reed huffed and rolled her eyes at Maria, though she stayed put.
Her mouth, though, kept flapping.
“Heard you even talked back to Mr.
Bennett.
Don’t get why he’s giving you special treatment.”
“Another word and I’m out.
You can finish your fabulous look all by yourself,” Maria said calmly.
The next thirty minutes were surprisingly quiet.
When she finally looked into the mirror, Ann Reed was visibly stunned by her reflection, lips slightly parted but speechless.
Her manager, on the other hand, was thrilled—snapping pics wildly, practically brimming with excitement.
Maria clapped the powder off her hands, gave Grace a nod to start packing up, and left without bothering with a goodbye.
Once outside the dressing room, Grace let out a long breath, shoulders finally drooping.
“Maria, you really handled her.
I was so scared she’d pick a fight and things would blow up.”
Even recalling it made Grace a bit shaken.
Maria narrowed her eyes slightly, voice low and calm.
“People like her?
Sooner or later, they crash and burn.
Not our business.”
That night, news of Ann Reed’s diva meltdown hit the internet—but this time, someone leaked audio of her going off on Maria as proof.
The story blew up instantly, rocketing to trending topics.
Every media account was reposting it nonstop.
Ann Reed’s team rushed to deny it, claiming the audio was doctored.
Right after, Maria posted on Twitter, confirming the clip was legit.
Grace backed her up too, sharing her own story—with her face and voice heavily blurred—but the message was loud and clear.