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My family built their fortune on a simple rule: beauty is our bloodline, and ugliness ends it.
What they really meant was: marry anyone less than perfect, and we'll destroy you both.
For four generations, our family owned the most exclusive modeling agencies in the world.
But we weren't just selling beauty—we were breeding it.
My great-grandmother started the "Divine Genetics Program" in 1943, only signing models who met her twisted standards.
By the time I was born, our family controlled which faces appeared on every major magazine cover.
Growing up, I thought every family had a measuring room where children's faces were analyzed with calipers.
I thought it was normal for my grandmother to examine my bone structure and declare whether I was "genetically worthy."
Every family gathering was a beauty inspection where cousins were ranked like livestock.
My mother would smile while discussing which relatives needed "corrective procedures" to maintain our family's reputation.
My aunt Caroline got a nose job at 14 because my grandmother said her profile was "contaminating our gene pool."
My cousin David was sent to boarding school at 16 because he developed acne that my grandfather called "facial pollution."
When I turned 18, they revealed the real family business.
We didn't just represent beautiful people—we eliminated the "genetically inferior" ones.
My father showed me contracts where our agency sabotaged careers of models who didn't fit our standards.
"We've destroyed thousands of dreams," he said proudly.
My mother handed me photos of models who'd unalived themselves after we blacklisted them from every agency worldwide.
"Natural selection," she explained. "The weak eliminate themselves."
Everything changed when I met Maria at a coffee shop near our agency.
She was a struggling model with a small scar on her cheek from a childhood accident.
When she smiled, something exploded in my chest like fireworks.
We talked for hours about art, dreams, and how beauty standards were destroying young women's souls.
For six months, I lived a double life—sneaking out to see Maria while my family planned my engagement to Alexei, a Russian heir.
Maria never knew my real last name or that my family was destroying careers of people like her.
The guilt was eating me alive, but I was terrified of losing the only real love I'd ever felt.
Everything exploded when my mother discovered photos of Maria on my phone.
She researched Maria's background and discovered the facial scar that had kept her from booking major campaigns.
My father called an emergency family meeting where they displayed blown-up photos of Maria's scar.
My grandmother shrieked, "You're dating damaged goods! This will ruin our bloodline forever!"
My mother added, "Her children would be genetic disasters."
Then my father delivered the ultimatum: "Choose her and lose everything, or marry Alexei and inherit the empire."
That night, I told Maria everything about my family's business and how they'd been destroying careers.
Instead of running, she held my hand and said, "I love you, not your family's blood money. But this is your choice."
The next morning, I brought Maria to Sunday family dinner.
My hands were shaking as I introduced her as "the woman I'm going to marry."
My grandmother literally fainted when she saw Maria's scar.
My father turned purple and screamed, "Get that defective creature out of our house before it contaminates our reputation!"
Alexei stood up and declared, "The engagement is off. I will not associate with genetic pollution."
My uncle lunged at Maria with a dinner knife, screaming, "We will not let you destroy four generations of perfect breeding!"
The knife caught Maria across her arm, adding a second scar to match her first.
While Maria bled on their white Italian marble, my mother was calling photographers to document my "betrayal."
My grandmother threw her diamond tiara at my face and shrieked, "You are no granddaughter of mine, you beauty-destroying whore!"
My father followed us to the car and shouted, "Your hideous children will grow up knowing their mother chose ugliness over perfection!"
Then he called every agency in the industry and blacklisted both of us permanently.
Three years later, Maria and I run an agency that represents real people with real stories.
My family changed their name and told the industry I died in a plane crash.
I lost my inheritance, my trust fund, and my family empire.