The second week wasn't as kind.
No calls came for three days.
Then five.
Money slipped away on groceries and transportation.
Elena began checking her phone every ten minutes.
Nothing.
Vegas had moved on.
She accompanied Brielle one evening to a club where Brielle occasionally worked promotional nights.
The music was loud. Lights flashed erratically.
Women in glittering outfits moved confidently through crowds.
Brielle handed her a short silver dress.
"You could earn triple here."
Elena stared at it.
"I don't think I'm ready."
Brielle didn't push.
"Fair."
Instead, Elena observed.
The confidence. The strategy. The unspoken competition.
Vegas wasn't just about beauty.
It was about stamina.
Emotional stamina.
Two nights later, Elena received a message from a small fashion startup looking for models for social media content.
Low pay.
Long hours.
She accepted immediately.
The shoot took place on a rooftop parking structure at sunset.
Wind blowing.
The city skyline is glowing.
For the first time since arriving, Elena felt aligned with the city.
The photographer paused mid-shot.
"Don't pose. Just look at the horizon."
She did.
And something shifted in her expression.
Not innocent.
Not fear.
Ambition.
The photographer lowered his camera slightly.
"You're not trying too hard," he said. "That's rare."
The photos were posted two days later.
And this time…
They didn't just circulate among small circles.
They reached further.
Strangers began commenting.
Asking her name.
Following her page.
It wasn't viral.
But it was a movement.
Vegas had noticed her.
Just a little.