ECHOES OF DECEPTION

"Isabella, I’m sorry, but it’s over. The investors have pulled out."

Those words landed like a gut punch, knocking the breath from my lungs. My dream of building a fashion empire and my desire to create something big appeared to slip through my fingers. This day was supposed to be my happiest moment, seeing my dream come true. One day, I struggled and fought hard for it.

Oh! Where do I even begin? What do I do now? Everything was crumbling before my own very eyes; everything was falling apart, yet nothing I could do. I gazed at the phone in my hand, unable to grasp what I had just heard.

As I looked out at the already arranged event hall before me, its beautiful decoration so enticing now felt like a mockery. I had been slapped bitterly, yet I could not retaliate. The models who had been preparing for months, their everyday rehearsals, the modelling dresses--everything seemed to fade into the ground as I stood there, paralyzed and confused, asking myself a lot of unanswered questions. Then I heard footsteps coming; it was then I realized myself. It was Emma's voice, standing beside me. Her tap brought me to realization, her expression full of worry.

"I heard what happened. I hope you’re okay?" She asked. I shook my head, my throat making it hard to talk. "How could I be okay, Emma? Everything I had fought for, everything I had dreamed of was collapsing." My hands curled into fists at my side; I instantly developed a fever and headache as I battled the tears I refused to let fall.

"At least you are famous now," Emma replied, attempting to make light of the situation. "Just... not for the right reasons or moment, though."

I let out a harsh laughter, but it was empty, the words filled with anguish. "Famous for my career that has just been ruined? Is that what you mean?" I couldn’t stop the mockery from slipping into my voice, but the fact was, it ached more than I wanted to admit.

Emma paused, staring at me with pity in her look. "You can’t let this define you or weigh you down. You’re stronger than that. You’ll bounce back."

I wanted to trust her or agree with what she said, but my condition couldn't allow me. I felt like I had lost something I could never get back. The fashion presentation, the designs, the models, everything had been stained by one thing—failure orchestrated by one envious cousin of mine.

Clara.

The realization struck me hard, like a slap on the face. My cousin, the one I had trusted, had arranged this calamity. She had circulated falsehoods about my business, twisting stories that damaged my reputation. But that wasn’t all. I discovered she had gone further than that—contacting my clients and encouraging them to withdraw out of transactions that could’ve changed everything about me.

The betrayal was crushing, and my hands squeezed harder as the anger rose inside me. How could she do this to me? How could someone I called family ruin everything I had fought for?

I walked away from the event hall, my head heavy with the weight of my thoughts. I needed to find a way to mend this, to preserve what little was left of my reputation. But where could I possibly begin?

"Isabella?" Emma yelled after me, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. The harm had already been done, and there was nothing I could do at that moment.

I caught sight of the investors exiting the premises, their looks frigid and indifferent. Some were on their phones; some were conversing among themselves. None of them even afforded me a look. It was over.

I let out a nervous breath and strolled inside my office, the only place I could at least pretend everything was normal, if only for a while. But even there, the agony followed me. The walls seemed like they were closing in as I sunk into the chair behind my desk, looking at the vacant chair opposite me. The chair where my mother used to sit at every major meeting.

She has always been telling me that failures were simply temporary setbacks, but now, her words seem hollow, like an empty promise.

I covered my face in my hands, the tears threatening to escape, but before I could break down, my phone chimed. I picked it up, anticipating more awful news, but this time, it was from my brother.

"Senior, you need to come home," he pleaded. "It’s Mom."

My heart skipped a beat. "What happened?"

"Mum's state of health is getting worse," he said, his voice sorrowful. "The doctor does not think she will make it through the night."

I felt like the earth had collapsed over me. My mother has been unwell for months, but this? This time was different. She had always been strong, always there for me. I didn’t have the power to understand all that was coming apart, but I couldn’t let her go without being at her side.

"I’ll be right there," I said. I managed to answer, my voice husky with emotion. I didn’t even have the energy to hang up the call, but concern for my mother's state of health made me awkward. I cannot let her go—not now, not when everything was falling apart for me.

I ran out of the office, getting one final look at the fashion show site. The site where it had all begun, where I had dreamed of success. And now, everything is ruined.

Emma came up to me just as I reached the elevator. "Ma, wait," she yelled. But I didn’t want to hear it. I couldn’t stand to listen. I saw myself as being a failure.

But Emma wasn’t backing down. "You will. You’re going to rebuild, Isabella. You’re going to recover from all you’ve lost."

I mustered a faint smile. "How will I? I have nothing left."

"You have yourself," Emma replied gently, her eyes full of calm resolve. "And that’s enough. Ma, I believe in you."

The elevator doors closed, and I leaned back against the wall, attempting to regulate my breath. Her words were consoling, yet the weight of my failure pushed down on me. I had no clue how I was going to rebuild or to start, but I can’t let myself fall apart now. My mother needs me.

Will I rise and battle for the dream Clara had taken from me?

Find out in the next chapter!