Chapter 14

For the first time in years, my life felt… calm.

Not the kind of calm that comes from stillness, but the kind born from balance–the kind you don’t realize you’ve been craving until it wraps around you like warm sheets on a cold morning. Parker and I were, for lack of a better word, happy.

We didn’t label everything. We didn’t need to. He kissed my forehead every morning before work and held my hand when we walked the Thames on Sundays. He remembered the smallest details about me–the way I took my tea, how I hummed when I was focused, how I needed music to sketch.

We kept things quiet in the office. Professional. But outside those glass walls, it was ours.

Work was thriving, too. My last design was featured in a major online fashion journal. Parker had casually printed the article and stuck it on the fridge like a proud boyfriend would.

“You’re kind of a big deal,” he said with that crooked grin of his, brushing flour off his shirt while baking croissants from scratch. I didn’t even know he baked.

I giggled. “You say that now. Wait until I burn your favorite shirt with a flat iron.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” he gasped, dramatically shielding his chest.

We danced around the kitchen that morning. Literally. And I thought–I could get used to this.

But peace has its enemies.

Whispers started a week later.

At first, I didn’t mind. People would talk. That’s just what they do when they see someone else happy.

“She probably slept her way up,” I overheard once near the elevators. “He was dating someone else before. Poor girl doesn’t even know she’s a rebound,” another voice chimed. “They won’t last. Parker Wilson? Please. He always gets bored.”

I kept walking. I had survived far worse. But then, things turned personal.

One morning, I came in early to prep a final design board for a major investor pitch. A full collection concept. It was the most important project I’d ever touched.

Only, when I pulled the covers back on the mannequin…

My gown was shredded. Torn from shoulder to hem. Sequins ripped, stitches destroyed. My hands trembled as I stared. This wasn’t an accident.

Someone had done this. Deliberately.

That afternoon, the investors stormed out. Parker was in another meeting, and I was left to absorb the brunt of the disappointment. My carefully crafted designs–ruined. The pitch–dead on arrival.

I sat in the supply room, tucked between bolts of fabric and shelves of unused thread, trying to breathe. My hands trembled as I held them in my lap, nails digging into my palms. I blinked rapidly, forcing the tears back. Not here. Not now.

A knot twisted deep in my stomach.

Parker was going to find out.

My heart began to race.

What if he gets mad? What if he says I was careless?

What if he blames me?

The fear didn’t come from him, not really. It came from memories that still clung to me like second skin. I could already hear Alex’s voice–sharp, unforgiving.

“You ruined everything.”

“Do you ever think?”

“What a waste.”

I wrapped my arms around myself, shrinking smaller. I didn’t want to see the same disgust in Parker’s eyes.

I didn’t think I could survive it again.

The door creaked open behind me. I flinched.

Footsteps approached.

“Lindsey?”

Parker’s voice. Calm. Soft.

I flinched. His voice was gentle, not sharp.

I looked up. My eyes were already red.

“I didn’t–I didn’t do anything,” I said quickly. “I don’t know what happened. Someone–someone destroyed the design.”

He didn’t say anything. Not at first.

He walked over and knelt down in front of me. Then he wrapped his arms around me.

“No one’s mad at you,” he whispered. “Not me. Not anyone that matters. You’re more important than one dress. And you didn’t ruin anything.”

My lip trembled. “But the investors…”

“They’ll come back,” he said. “I’ll make sure of it.”

I clutched his shirt like a lifeline.

“I’ll find out who did this,” he said with steel in his voice. “I swear to you, I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”

Two days later, I learned just how deep jealousy could cut.

I was alone in the fabric room when it happened.

A hand yanked my hair hard from behind. I stumbled backward with a sharp gasp, pain zipping through my scalp.

“You ruined my job, you pathetic slut!”

I turned, stunned. It was Marina–a junior assistant who had been on probation recently for a number of careless mistakes.

“I didn’t–what are you talking about?”

“You took everything from me!” she screamed, eyes wild. “You and your little boyfriend. He fired me because of you!”

“I didn’t even know-!”

She shoved me.

I stumbled again, my back hitting the shelf hard, bolts of fabric toppling around me. My chest heaved.

A few other girls came running–one of them filming, of course.

“She’s crazy!” someone yelled.

“She’s been reporting people–sucking up to Parker!”

I felt the panic rise in my chest, adrenaline replacing clarity. I tried to move, to defend myself, but another girl grabbed my arm while Marina lunged again.

I screamed.

And then-

“Enough!”

Parker’s voice boomed through the room like thunder.

He pushed through the crowd and got between us instantly, pulling Marina back with terrifying force.

“You touch her again and I’ll make sure you never work in this city again.”

“She ruined my life!” Marina sobbed.

“You ruined your own damn life,” Parker snapped. “Security is on their way. And as for the rest of you–anyone who laid a hand on her, anyone who stood by and watched–clean your desks.”

The room scattered. But I didn’t notice.

Because my vision blurred. My knees buckled.

And then–everything went black.