She wrote one more thing: If no one was watching, would I still do any of this?
Tomorrow: fire the social media manager. Cancel the podcast. Cancel the brand deal with the vodka that gives me migraines. Eat something ugly. Call Chloe and apologize properly. lacey jayne interrogating her ass
The question sat on the page like an uninvited guest. For ten years, she had wanted visibility. Then relevance. Then wealth. Then to stay wealthy. Then to be untouchable. Now she was all of those things, and the air at this altitude was so thin she could barely remember what it felt like to breathe without being watched. She wrote one more thing: If no one
Lacey Jayne set down the pen. She walked to the window and pressed her forehead against the cool glass. Down on the street, a couple emerged from a ramen shop, laughing, arms around each other’s waists. No camera crew. No stylist. No hashtag. Just two people, entirely unwatched, entirely alive. Cancel the brand deal with the vodka that gives me migraines
The silence answered.
Her phone buzzed. Trending at #3. “Lacey Jayne real tears.” Stay offline. Love you.