Eloise By 6:40 p.m., I was dressed in my dress with cot and slacks the color of cream. Minimal makeup. Statement earrings. Just enough to show I hadn’t lost my touch, not enough to signal that I cared what he thought. The Uber dropped me off outside Bar Cassette, tucked behind a row of glass-fronted boutiques and independent bookstores. The street smelled of lavender oil from a nearby apothecary, and the sharp edge of citrus from someone’s Aperol spritz. The air was warm, dusk starting to settle into the skyline. I spotted him before I reached the steps—tall, well-dressed, unbothered as always. Damon stood near the entrance, scrolling through his phone. A dark navy jacket hugged his broad shoulders, and his hair had grown slightly longer at the sides. When he saw me, his lips quivered into a smile. “Eloise. You look…” “Don’t say radiant,” I warned, brushing past him. “I was going to say dangerous.” He chuckled, trailing behind as we walked into the bar. Inside, it was dimly li
Eloise The first time I noticed the curve, I was standing in front of my bedroom mirror, holding two hangers, one with a structured white blouse, the other with a navy silk top I hadn’t worn in months. I wore only a bralette and yoga pants, half-dressed, deciding what to wear for a virtual fitting with the Paris team. The morning light poured through my floor-to-ceiling window, spilling across the hardwood and gilding the room in gold. The silk top had always skimmed perfectly over my torso, but when I pulled it over my head and tugged it down, the fabric resisted around my stomach. I paused, brows furrowing, then looked down. It wasn’t… dramatic. Just a gentle curve where flatness used to be. My fingers brushed it, then pressed lightly. Soft. Not painful. Just there. Weird. I had been noticing my stomach swelling but ruled it out as bad dieting, my eating routine wasn’t good to start with. At first, I sucked it in. It flattened. But when I released my breath, it popped right
Jennifer I didn’t bother knocking. I threw open Lucian’s office door so hard it slammed into the adjacent wall with a reverberating thud that made his assistant jump. Lucian was standing by his floor-to-ceiling windows, phone pressed to his ear, staring out at the city skyline with that same vacant, distracted look he’d been wearing for weeks. He turned slowly, his expression hardening when he saw me. He ended the call without a word, dropping the phone onto his polished mahogany desk with a clatter. “Jennifer,” he said in that low, clipped tone that always made my blood heat – with both rage and want. “What is it?” I shut the door behind me and strode across the room, my black Louboutin heels thudding against the Persian rug. My reflection flashed in the glass windows as I approached him: sleek hair pulled into a flawless twist, black silk blouse tucked into an ivory pencil skirt, red lipstick bold against my pale skin. Perfect. Powerful. Everything Eloise never was. “How dare y
Eloise I woke up to the soft morning light slipping through the linen curtains, painting pale gold across my cheeks. For a moment, I lay still in bed, staring up at the ceiling with its faint cracks. My chest felt tight, as if something heavy rested atop it. Today was the day. My first international collaboration meeting with Fauné Maison. Paris. Vivienne Leclerc. Even thinking their names sent a thrill through my veins, but beneath it was a sign of fear that refused to stop. I turned to the side, watching Max sleep on his little foldable Avengers bed by my dresser. His mouth was slightly open, one hand flung out over his Power Rangers blanket, his curls messy and damp against his forehead. A quiet smile spread across my lips despite the tightness in my chest. I reached out and brushed a stray curl away, pressing a kiss to his soft temple. “Mommy has to get up now,” I whispered. He stirred slightly, turning his face into the pillow with a sleepy hum. I sat up, stretching my ar
Jennifer The sharp scent of sandalwood diffused through my penthouse, mingling with the cloying sweetness of the leftover Merlot in my glass. The evening lights of New York City glittered beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.I sat curled on the white velvet couch, legs tucked under my thin silk robe, my phone balanced on my thigh. My thumb scrolled relentlessly through Instagram, the glow of the screen harsh against the darkened room.Every influencer. Every lifestyle blog. Every fashion curator.They were all reposting Eloise’s new brand deal announcement with Fauné Maison and Vivienne Leclerc.My chest tightened so violently I thought my ribs might shatter. My pulse thudded behind my eyes, vision blurring with rage. The caption blinked before me:“From heartbreak to haute couture. Eloise Sinclair’s breathtaking resilience lands her designs in Fauné Maison’s upcoming Parisian lookbook. #Resilience #FashionIcon”Resilience. Fashion icon. Heartbreak. As if her suffering was some kin
Eloise I sat with my laptop propped on my knees, Max curled against my side as he scrolled on my phone, humming under his breath. My fingers hovered above the touchpad, frozen, staring at the email that blinked brightly on my screen. Subject: Vivienne Leclerc x Fauné Maison Collaboration Invitation. I read the words again and again until they blurred in front of me. My stomach fluttered with something electric and light. Vivienne Leclerc. My mentor’s atelier was collaborating with Fauné Maison, a mid-tier international brand gaining traction with ethical production and minimalist sophistication. And they wanted me. My designs. In Paris. “Mommy,” Max nudged me with his little elbow, eyes still locked on his cartoon, “why you smiling like that?” I blinked rapidly, heat rushing to my cheeks. I turned to him, pressing a hard kiss to his temple. “Because…because Mommy just got a really good message,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Is it money?” he asked brightly, eyes lighting