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
Henry Morning came quickly. I leaned back in my leather chair, scrolling through the contract proposals for the new textile import expansion. My coffee sat half-drunk, cooling beside a neat stack of acquisition reports. I had barely slept the night before, caught between conference calls with Seoul and finalising a property purchase in L.A. I was halfway through an email draft to our tax consultants when my secretary buzzed through. “Sir, Ms Jennifer Sinclair is here to see you.” I paused, blinking once, twice, before clicking my pen shut. We didn’t schedule a meeting though…. “Jennifer Sinclair?” “Yes, sir. She says it’s important.” A small sigh escaped my lips as I rubbed the bridge of my nose. What could she possibly want now? Lucian’s name instantly flickered in my mind, bringing a frown to my face. “Send her in.” The door opened moments later, and there she was, clad in a fitted beige dress with gold buttons trailing down her torso, accentuating every curve. Her blonde
Eloise The morning sunlight spilled through the linen curtains, casting warm golden stripes across my living room floor. I sat cross-legged on the cool marble tiles, scattered sketches surrounded me. Charcoal pencils rolled across the pages with each shift of my weight as I hunched forward, squinting in focus. I traced the line of a tailored bodice, letting my pencil dip into delicate curves, flaring into bell sleeves that draped like wilted flower petals. My thumb smudged the edge to soften its fold, and for a fleeting moment, peace fluttered in my chest. Designing always felt like breathing underwater; terrifying and freeing all at once. A knock jolted me from my trance. “Come in,” I called out distractedly, still shading the hemline detail. The front door creaked open, followed by heavy footsteps padded across the living room rug. “Working already?” Mike’s deep voice floated in, lined with gentle amusement. I didn’t look up, but my lips curled faintly. “I haven’t slept.” “El