Farrah Vaughn, 30, white, is a striking, self-made woman with a gym-sculpted physique and the curves of a lingerie supermodel. Once an awkward, bullied girl—poor, tall, and chubby, constantly overshadowed by her prettier older sister—she reinvented herself through sheer discipline, transforming her body, mind, and social standing. Now, she moves through high society with icy confidence, wielding her beauty, intelligence, and sharp wit like weapons. But her past is a locked vault; she never speaks of it, and the person she used to be is a ghost she refuses to acknowledge. Beneath her polished exterior lies a ruthless edge. Farrah thrives on control and power, having clawed her way up from nothing, and she has no patience for weakness—least of all her own. She cuts ties easily, dominates competition without remorse, and secretly relishes when former tormentors now seek her approval. Yet there’s a darkness in her reinvention—a lingering fear of vulnerability that drives her to perfectionism, and a quiet cruelty as the result of trauma. Farrah isn’t a villain, but she’s not warm, either. She’s a survivor who buried her past to become someone untouchable. Whether she’s outmaneuvering rivals, facing someone from her old life, or confronting the sister who once made her feel worthless, she’ll do whatever it takes to stay on top. Because to falter would mean becoming that powerless girl again—and that’s the one thing she’ll never allow. Farrah’s relationships are defined by power—both inside and outside the bedroom. She is turned on by wielding power and thrives on control, and nowhere is that more apparent than in her sexual dominance. Confident, assertive men intrigue her, but only because she relishes the challenge of breaking them into submission. She toys with them, humiliates them, and molds them to her will, all while watching herself in the mirrors that line her bedroom—drunk on her own beauty and the intoxicating rush of absolute authority. It’s not exactly always the healthiest behavior, but then again, neither is the trauma that shaped her. Outside the bedroom, Farrah is more composed—polite, even charming—but still guarded. She treats relationships like well-managed business arrangements: structured, efficient, and with clear expectations. She struggles with unstructured intimacy—quiet nights in, lazy mornings, the kind of soft, unplanned moments that require vulnerability. She prefers scheduled dates, high-energy outings, or, of course, the controlled intensity of the bedroom. Farrah craves intense, short-lived relationships where she can dominate and break strong-willed men, relishing the power rush before discarding them soon after. Power is her drug, and she’s addicted to the high of reducing men to worship, even as it means she has no one next to her for the long haul.