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"But you and Sarah demand things all the time."

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

It's true, we did. Sarah shrugged at this.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"You are not me and Sarah. We have worked a long time in this industry. The PR companies know us. We only make demands when appropriate." Lies. We demanded shit all the time. "They don't know or care who the fuck you are! And right now, you're about to be the intern who got shit-canned!"

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"Anya's right, Cassie." Sarah nodded. "You really can't do that. I mean, you're not even important." Watching Cassie's face fall at that moment should have moved me. She was a kindred spirit, someone who just wanted acceptance. She wanted Sarah's love. Just like me. But the idea of being like my intern filled me with disgust. She was so fucking needy. I despised her more than ever.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"How many designers did you call and demand seats from?" My head was starting to pound. And with each throb, the sound of buzzing grew louder. I pinched the bridge of my nose to make it stop.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

Sarah snorted. "Call them back," she ordered. "Anya will supervise."

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

I nodded. This wasn't one of those things where she was showing how much she trusted me. Sarah simply didn't want to deal with it.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"And email them for good measure. CCing me. Let's hope Celia doesn't find out."

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"Just dial. I don't have all day to fix your mistakes." I glared.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

Sarah grinned at me. She was enjoying this. I had made her happy.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

While I nibbled at my Celia-approved lunch (kale salad with lemon juice and nothing else), I thought about what to do about Cassie.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"Give her a chance. She just goofed," Sarah said. Had they made up behind my back?

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"Um, since when do you like her? You've wanted to get rid of her for days." I stood up to watch her while we talked. Eye contact says someone is important to you, that you see them. Sarah didn't even glance up.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"I know, but she's really good with my dry cleaning."

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"She's an intern, not your maid."

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"Well, yeah, she's cheaper than my maid."

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"She's always going to Greg's office. I wonder what that means," I said as innocently as I could. Sarah glared at me.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"Is she? We need to fire her." She seethed as she opened one of dozens of packages on her desk.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"Oh, look at this!" Sarah held up her newest gift: a necklace with charms and beads hanging off a rather unusual matted material.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"What's it made out of?" I asked. I knew what it was. I was the one who made it for her. I swallowed a giggle.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"The card says it's the first bionatural organic cilia-woven jewelry line. What does that mean?"

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"Oh, ew. It means it's hair!" I laughed.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"No, like dog hair?"

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"Maybe. Or bunny hair, like angora?"

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"Oh, totes. It's kinda cute, right? Just what I need for Fashion Week! I'll have to show it to Dalia."

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

And that's how Sarah started wearing Diana's hair around her neck. Di's hair was too pretty to toss, and I wanted to give Sarah just the _right_ present, something with meaning. Diana would have loved going to Fashion Week—and now she could! I wanted to tell Sarah it was from me. That I made it myself, just for her. But Sarah wouldn't like that. She'd probably never wear it if she knew.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

Detective Hopper left me a message. He wanted to get coffee. Was that a date? I pushed it back until after Fashion Week. Priorities, people.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

I checked Sarah's text messages while she went to get her nails done. Lisa and Jack. Always Lisa and Jack. When would I be invited to the group chat?

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

Lisa: _Is there any way we could do NYFW without your freaky coworker?_

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

Jack: _OMG, you are so obsessed with her! LOL_

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

Sarah: _LOL, I wish. She does so much work tho._

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

Jack: _You know what they say: you're either a workhorse or a show pony._

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

Sarah: _She's such a workhorse._

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

Lisa: _She even has the build for it._ (crying face emoji) _But really, you guys know she's a fraud, right? Like, I'm getting proof._

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

Jack: _Babe, you need to let this go. You're starting to sound crazy._

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

Lisa: _Ugh, whatever. You'll see._

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

Labor Day weekend should have been one of rest. I had more than forty fashion shows to hit the following week, and all while wearing high heels. I needed to chill. But I couldn't. Not with Lisa Blitz whispering about me at every turn. She was planning something big, I knew it. She was going to out me at shows. In front of everyone. I could picture her now, sitting front row with Sarah. Pointing at me. Laughing. Having me removed by security. Just envisioning it made me throw up.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

Every minute I was awake, I thought about Lisa, and really, I should have been focusing on Sarah and what my next steps were. (Dammit, Lisa!) I imagined every single thing she'd say about me. Had she hired the investigator? Were there files on me? Would she run a giant exposé? I had to fix this, deal with it before everything blew up in my face. I'd be a laughingstock if I didn't. Just a punch line to people like Sarah.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"No!" I screamed, throwing my Prada mules at my mood boards. "That won't happen!"

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

My neighbor downstairs pounded on his ceiling.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

_Get it together, Anya. Fix this_.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

Unlike Sarah, Lisa was spending the holiday weekend in the city. She had claimed (to Sarah) it was to avoid the hoi polloi who flocked to the Hamptons. But the truth was that Lisa didn't have a beach house. Sarah laughed about it at work.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"It's so sad. She has, like, no money. She totally makes it work, but she's been crashing at everyone else's beach house all summer. Mine's full this weekend." Her parents were coming in to see her and lounge by the pool. Lisa was on her own. All alone. I didn't ask why I wasn't invited. I would be, soon.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

She whirled her head around. "No, why, what have you heard? Do you know what he's up to this weekend?"

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

I held my hands up in retreat. "No, I just was curious. Calm down." Sarah pouted. Trouble in paradise. But more important, I had a chance to deal with Lisa Blitz.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

When an opportunity knocks, grab it by the fucking throat. Or something.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

Saturday came. I was up early. No sleeping in. No resting before the sartorial storm hit. I stood across from Lisa's apartment on Eldridge Street on the Lower East Side. She was home, I was certain of it. I hadn't seen her leave, and I'd been there for hours.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

I buzzed her apartment; she let me in. I think she thought I was Sarah. I wore my blonde wig. I felt fabulous. Best purchase ever.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"Baaaaabe! Why haven't you left yet?" she said loudly, throwing open her door. Then her face froze. She took in my wig, my clothes, my face. And then she laughed. "Oh my God, you are such a stalker!" She doubled over laughing. My hands flew to my wig. No, I was perfect.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

I smiled and pushed her back into her apartment, closing the door behind me. "Lisa, let's chat." She rolled her eyes. "Listen, I'm not sure where you're getting your weird info about me, but it's not cool to spread lies."

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"Wait, you came here, dressed as Sarah, because I know about you? You are so pathetic!" Her face twisted as she taunted me. She was so ugly when she did that. If she had just been nice, even once, I would have tried to resolve this peacefully.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

I shrugged to show I didn't care. (God, did I care.)

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"Wait 'til I tell Jack and Sarah. O-M-G, they won't even believe it! That wig!" She laughed, holding her phone to text.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"Wait! I have a peace offering. Let's have a glass and then move on." I held up a bottle of Veuve. She pursed her lips but acquiesced. Lisa couldn't resist free champagne, even in the morning. "Fab, I'll pour." I love opening champagne bottles. You squeeze, you don't pop. All that foam everywhere is such a waste. I was in her tiny kitchen area, my back to her. I made a show of washing out the dust from the glasses but really, I needed to block her from seeing what I was doing. I dropped some fentanyl into her flute, poured the champagne, and turned back to hand it to her. "Cheers!" I had to know how much info she'd shared with Sarah. Not just her snide comments, but proof. I had no doubt that she had some. She knew too much.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"You know, we're a lot alike. Self-made in a land full of Sarahs."

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

She rolled her eyes at me as I said it. We should have been on the same side. Why didn't Lisa see that?

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"Except I'm not a fraud like you. 'Anya St. Clair' doesn't even exist before a few years ago. What, did you pick the name out of a hat? Just make up something that sounded good? Who are you?" She narrowed her eyes, watching me. "What are you hiding? I'm going to find out sooner or later. You may as well tell me. My private eye is working the case. You're going to be totally exposed." She threw her head back and laughed. "It's going to be so good! Anya the faker! You'll never work in fashion again!" She snorted, wiping tears from her eyes.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

I kept an idiotic smile on my face. "Jeez, Lisa, you really are obsessed with me! I guess I just wasn't important enough to get Google hits. I can tell you all about me, but it's really boring." The sneer on her face fueled me. This bitch was enemy number one. "Look, if it makes you happy, pay some man to look into me. Hell, I'll even sit down with him," I lied. "But I'd really like us to get along. We're not that different, you know." Her eyes narrowed. "I say let's have a truce and toast to a good Fashion Week." _Or to dropping this line of questioning_. But she wouldn't. She'd never let it go.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"Whatever. Let's get this over with." She threw back her champagne, swallowing it in one gulp. "Okay, get out."

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"Oh, come on. Let's finish the bottle. It'll go flat." And I poured more. But her eyes were already glassy. She'd be out soon.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

Lisa was a lightweight. I got no info out of her. My fault; I pour with a heavy hand. At least I styled her after the drugs kicked in. Dead Lisa wore three veils—one on her face, one over her crotch, and the third stuffed in her mouth. Her Chanel pearls were strung so tightly, they almost broke. Her accessories wall alone was reason enough to kill her. So much to choose from, so little time. But this was _self-defense_. Lisa was out to ruin me. She wanted to take my job from me, my livelihood. My friends. My social standing. Everything I'd worked so damn hard to achieve would be gone in a flash. I'd have to leave New York, go live in a yurt somewhere. All because of stupid Lisa Blitz. People like that don't deserve to live. Dr. M would be so proud of me for taking action. For doing.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

I searched through her computer files, emails, and direct messages until I found what I was looking for. Emails from three different editors I supposedly worked for saying they'd never heard of me. Those bastards. And some calls and texts from her "guy." My to-do list was growing every second. Faking your way into this world isn't easy; it's not _less_ work. You have to constantly push to stay afloat. Be aware of attacks. Fucking Lisa and everybody like her didn't get that I was _self-made_. She should have looked up to me. I was doing what she couldn't.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

The mystery guy she'd hired to dig up dirt on me had texted her a few times. _The situation is resolved_ , I wrote. And then Venmoed a few hundred bucks to him from Lisa's account. I screengrabbed some texts on Lisa's phone before turning it off for good. I didn't know what to do with it when I was done, so I decided to hide it in the cabinets at work. There was so much junk in them, so much of Sarah's stuff, that no one would even notice.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

I took one last look at the body, snapped a photo, and left. The rest of the weekend I spent watching Netflix and _Law & Order_. I was trying to feel calm, relaxed. One major thing on my to-do list was officially done at least. Line crossed through and all. Now to take on the rest.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

It was finally here: Fashion Week. And I was down thirteen whole pounds and one and a half sizes. In the week leading up to my final weigh-in, I lived off of kale, water, and kale juice. I'd like to say I exercised a lot, but truthfully, after dealing with Lisa, I slept. Or rather, I kept passing out. (What was Labor Day for if not resting?) But the result was a five-pound drop in my weight in that last week, however temporary. Enough at least to do the story. I was pretty damn proud of myself, as was Dr. M. (Though he wasn't happy with the methods I employed.) Celia, on the other hand, considered the entire experiment a colossal failure.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"You'll just have to write it that way. That you tried and failed. Maybe the readers will enjoy the human touch." She pursed her lips to show her disappointment. I was a failure. I was a (fat) loser to her. The idea of a _La Vie_ girl being on the same footing as humans was repulsive in Celia's world. We were better. We were the elite in every way. We didn't age, we didn't get fat, and we sure as hell didn't have body issues. Evie, whose idea it was to begin with, smirked gleefully at me, her bony porcelain shoulders taunting me. She leaned in to whisper something in Sarah's ear, and they both giggled. Those bitches. What would it be like to take a hammer and smash Evie's pretty collarbone to pieces?

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

Despite my exhaustion, I had to admit, I looked fan-fucking-tastic. So I wrote the story, "How to Lose Two Dress Sizes in Less Than Six Weeks—We Tried It!" And I dished on all my cravings, my failings, the weigh-ins, the planks. Instead of photos of me, I ran shots of my food. It wasn't the highest moment in my career, but the piece was a success. The commenters were all rather sympathetic to my cause, even expressing concern over what I'd had to endure. Diana said we were "crazy" to make me do it. (Thanks, babe! I knew we'd be friends.)

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"Dammit! Lisa's flaked again!" It was Tuesday morning, and Sarah was pouting at her phone. "She's gone M-I-A on me. W-T-F, right? Like, Jack hasn't heard from her either. Ugh, I hope she's not mad about not using my beach house."

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

I hid my smile. "Maybe she choked on that pearl necklace of hers," I suggested.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"Not funny. I wonder if she's mad at me."

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"Why would she be? You know how she is. Such a bitch."

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"She is not!"

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

I only nodded in reply. I'd wait for her to come around. It would happen, and I'd be there when she realized her friends were jerks.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"At least your outfits are less embarrassing now that you're a normal weight," Sarah said coldly as we hopped into our car to Spring Studios on Varick Street. "Just try not to make a horrible face in photos." She was wearing a leather fringed Valentino dress in lilac. (She got caught in the door twice.)

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

We weren't getting closer. She was sulking over Lisa. And taking it out on me. Or maybe she had Fashion Week mood. Everyone was extragrouchy when shows were on. I mutely looked out my window as we inched through traffic.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

I knew what else was bugging her: Greg. Our publisher was causing a major rift between us. He had decided that our audience needed me to blog every up and down of this week. I was the "voice" of the people. Somehow, using Diana's account to post happy comments made him think I was in sync with our readers.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"The readers _get_ you. We need that, build some brand loyalty!" Brand loyalty. As if brands were ever loyal back. "And, Sarah, work with Anya to improve reader reaction to your stories. She has it down."

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

She'd turned around and walked away.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

Between Lisa vanishing and Greg's attention, Sarah downright loathed me. But I didn't get it. She was without a bestie; the trinity was down a member. (They just didn't know it yet.) And Jack didn't go to women's shows (though he met Sarah at after-parties). Which meant she needed me, her friend, more than ever this week. Instead, she sulked and ignored me. She was _this close_ to making me pick up her dry cleaning as penance. It was going to be a long week.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

So far, the shows were not going well, and it was just day one. We sat snarled in New York City traffic. We should have taken the subway, but, as Celia liked to remind us, _La Vie_ girls show up in black cars. Escalades if you wanted to be specific. Evie and Dalia had their own cars; their schedules were too crazy to ride with us. Evie had to work backstage with the beauty teams, and Dalia had to rush from accessories appointments to runway shows. Sarah's schedule overlapped with mine, so I spent the better part of an hour stuck in traffic with her, as she alternated between ignoring me and whining that Greg was ignoring her.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"I mean, why don't I have a blog? I'm, like, so much more interesting than you."

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"I don't know, Sarah. You'll have to talk to Greg."

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"But, Anya! It's not _fair_!"

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

I wondered what would shut her up the fastest: smashing her head through the glass window or agreeing with her. I decided to go with the latter. Why ruin her pretty face?

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"Why don't you come up with an idea and pitch it to him and Celia? I'm sure they're open to it."

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"Right, like you haven't told them to not let me do anything. And, like, I don't get why the readers have such shitty taste."

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"Uh, paranoid much? You're my boss. Why would I work against you? And I do think you should have a blog or diary too. It's only fair."

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"You're right, I should. I want my own thing!" She nodded, wiping her nose.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"Then ask for it. Jeez, I didn't ask for this blog, but I'm doing it."

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

She did her bobblehead nod. She whipped out her phone and began texting angrily, no doubt to Greg. She was wearing her Diana necklace today. I stifled a giggle.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

By the time we got to the venue, we were thirty minutes late, which meant right on time. (All fashion shows start at least thirty minutes behind, except for Marc Jacobs, who, after years of being hours behind, now started two minutes ahead of schedule.) We ran to check in.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"Name?" the Lauren-bot asked, clipboard in hand. They were multiplying despite my best efforts.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"Anya St. Clair. Here's my invite and seat."

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"You're not on the list."

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"Um, but I'm holding my invite and seat assignment. So obviously I am."

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"Hold on."

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

I looked at Sarah, who shrugged and walked in, leaving me to deal with the robots.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"Sorry, you're not on the list. Which outlet are you with?"

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

" _La Vie_ ," I ground out. I wanted to take her headset and wrap it around her neck until she turned blue. I was having déjà vu.

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar

"Oh. Oh! Sorry, let me see what we can do. We can put you in standing—"

#FashionVictim - Amina Akhtar