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Forty five
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2025-07-21 00:14:53
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He Chose my Cousin, so I Chose Revenge Forty eight
I didn’t sleep the night the press coverage broke. I tried—God, I tried—but my body stayed wired, half-braced, as if the walls might fall in at any moment. My thoughts wouldn’t quiet. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw headlines layered on headlines, their sharp fonts cutting through my skin like they had been designed to wound. By morning, I was already dressed. I hadn’t even undressed, really. I had pulled on a soft wrap and wandered barefoot through the boutique in silence, checking each room, touching each rail, letting my fingers brush against the fabrics we had chosen with such care. I didn’t need to do it. But I did. Just to remind myself this place still existed. That I still existed in it. Julian found me before the others arrived. I didn’t hear him come in, but when I turned around at the end of the hall, he was already there. Not in a suit. Just in a dark sweater and slacks, his sleeves pushed up, the sharp lines of his face softened by whatever long night he’d had. He di
He Chose my Cousin, so I Chose Revenge Forty nine
The day began with a stillness that unsettled me more than any storm could have. The boutique was quiet, too quiet, like the silence that comes right before glass shatters. I stood in the fitting room hallway, fingers trailing lightly along the grain of the wall, trying to ground myself in the physical space I had fought so hard to reclaim. It felt surreal, this calm, as though the walls themselves were bracing for something they already sensed coming.Claudia was the first to arrive. She didn’t speak right away, just handed me a folder with tight lips and eyes that avoided mine. I opened it slowly, already knowing I would not like what I saw. Inside were printed screenshots of a thread spreading quickly across the industry’s internal forums, the kind usually reserved for suppliers, PR firms, and event coordinators. Someone had leaked partial financial records. Not current ones, but old enough to be misleading and carefully selected to suggest mismanagement, overspending, a
He Chose my Cousin, so I Chose Revenge Forty seven
The boutique was quiet again. Not still, not truly silent, but quiet in the way a body is when it’s holding something in. The air carried the scent of steamed fabric and jasmine tea. Somewhere in the back, Simone was finishing a late call with the Zurich vendor. I could hear her pacing lightly, her words clipped and professional. But I stayed where I was, fingers curled against the smooth grain of the atelier’s main table. The one Julian had restored with his bare hands. The one I had bled on when I first came back.I didn’t want to move yet.My skin still held the memory of his touch from last night. Not rushed, not demanding. Just present. His hand had lingered at the base of my spine like he was afraid I might disappear if he let go. But he had let go. And I had walked away. Not because I didn’t want him. Because I did. So much that it terrified me. But I needed to face this storm without leaning on anyone else’s strength. Even his.Especially his.
He Chose my Cousin, so I Chose Revenge Forty six
The boutique was quieter than it had been in weeks. Not silent, not empty, but holding that specific hush that comes when people are speaking in low tones, aware that too much noise might unravel something delicate. It wasn’t fear exactly, but awareness. A current running just beneath the skin.I stood by the mirror in the back fitting room, adjusting the sleeve of a new sample blouse. Raw silk, off-shoulder, hand-dyed in a muted hue somewhere between smoke and lilac. I wasn’t sure it flattered me, but that wasn’t the point. I needed to see how it moved when I walked, how it responded to skin, to light, to time. My reflection didn’t give answers. It never really had.A knock on the doorframe made me turn.Simone stood there, tablet in one hand, expression tight. “Lena’s here.”I exhaled slowly. “Bring her in.”Lena moved like someone who had already seen the battle and lived through it, though not without cost. Her coat was still wet from
He Chose my Cousin, so I Chose Revenge Forty five
I watched the light shift across the boutique floor as the sun moved higher in the sky. Morning bled into noon without fanfare, but the weight of the day pressed against my shoulders as if it knew what I was about to do.Simone’s heels clicked softly from the back hallway. She’d been organizing the guest list for hours, her posture tense but focused. Claudia had taken over press logistics. Lena was on the phone with someone from The Seasoned Edit, weaving another thread of quiet invitation. Everyone was working like the air itself had thickened into urgency.But I stood still.Not frozen. Not unsure. Just still.I was wearing white. A soft silk blouse tucked into slate trousers, no jewelry except the delicate ring my mother once wore. My hair had been pulled into a low twist, no makeup but a single stroke of color on my mouth. The look wasn’t armor. It was invitation. And I needed it to feel honest.Julian stood by the window near the street, arms folded, his gaze unreadable. He had a
He Chose my Cousin, so I Chose Revenge Forty four
The boutique was still. Not silent, exactly, but quiet in the way that followed a storm. A thick, heavy quiet. Like the walls remembered everything that had been said, every click of a camera lens, every question that was asked with a smile but meant to cut deep. The press had left late, long after the sun dipped behind the neighboring buildings, but even now their energy still clung to the room like perfume that wouldn’t lift.I hadn’t slept properly yet.I’d drifted into a restless, aching sort of stillness sometime after dawn, curled on the velvet sofa in the back with a blanket over my legs and my phone tucked under one hand. I didn’t dream. My mind was too full. Too alert. Too aware that everything could shift with the next notification.When I finally stood, my body ached like I’d been in a fight. In a way, I had.By the time I emerged from the back room, the light was soft and silver and caught in the corners of the boutique like it didn’t
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