LILLIANA
When I saw her first, in person, I couldn’t believe my eyes. Mia Romano looked far from a rescued woman; in fact, she looked like someone right out of opulence. Dressed in a Dior sheath dress with a matching pair of Jimmy Choo heels and a Chanel bag, she was indeed the golden girl of Chicago. But there was something in her—a careful amalgamation of innocence and wickedness that laced her features.
Mrs. Romano took the mic, spoke her lines and the people around her ate the words like some f*****g unicorn candy.
Wealthy socialites fluttered around her like bees over honey, and the organizers left no stone unturned for her hospitality as well as for security guards she brought with her.
I believe the people cheered, clapped, and praised even more when she smiled and handed ov
