Chapter 1

The grand hall shimmered with elegance, every corner draped in elegant colors which highlighted the importance of the event.

Cameras flashed, heels clicked, and everyone held the champagne in their hands raising a toast for the spectacular night.

But all of a sudden a hush fell over the crowd.

Two designers stood at the centre of the stage, their voices rising above the silence as they threw accusations at each other.

“You stole my designs.” one shouted.

“No, you copied her entire collection!” the other retorted.

Gasps echoed through the audience. Journalists leaned in to get the juicy gossip and the audience whispered into their phone telling the tell a tale everywhere.

Darcy watched from the edge of the crowd, her heart pounding. Her designs, the ones she had poured months of heart and soul into were parading down the runway under someone else’s name. She recognized every stitch, every design she had painstakingly embedded in those drafts. But she had no proof. Her files had vanished and it was dismissed as a tech glitch.

Now, her rival basked in praise out of her expense.

Darcy’s throat tightened. She wanted to scream, to fight, and to reclaim what was hers. But the spotlight had already moved on. And just like that, her moment was stolen and claimed by someone else.

Darcy sat alone on the marble steps outside the venue, the echo of applause still ringing in her ears but not for her. Her phone started ringing and she couldn’t bear to read. Her hands trembled, not from the cold, but from the injustice.

She finally picked up the phone with trembling hands.

“Hello.”

A shaky breath on the other end was her brother.

“Darcy… you need to come home. Something happened. Dad, he collapsed. We have brought him to the hospital.”

The world started spinning around her.

“What?” Darcy’s voice cracked.

“They think he had a stroke. I don’t know what to do. Please, just come.”

Darcy stood her legs unsteady. The betrayal she had just endured faded into the background. Her father was fighting for his life.

She didn’t wait. She didn’t speak. She just ran.

2 years later

Darcy Fletcher stood at the entrance of her family’s company, tears streaming down her cheeks as memories flooded her mind, moments etched into the walls of this place since the day she was born. Raised in a quiet neighbourhood of Detroit, Michigan, this place had always been her home. The company, founded by her great-grandfather, had a proud legacy passed down through three generations.

Once a dominant force in Michigan’s clothing industry, the Fletcher brand had thrived for decades. But everything changed when her father fell ill, and the company began to lose its footing. Still, they managed to survive, sustained by loyal clients and dwindling orders. Then, six months ago, a costly mistake by her brother plunged them into bankruptcy. To pay her employees one final time before the company went to auction, Darcy was forced to sell one of their cherished Manor but she didn’t have an option so she had to give it up thinking it was for the best. She was happy the money earned from the sale could be helpful for the employees who had worked hard for her family though decades and they deserved a good farewell for their dedication.

The buyer was none other than billionaire Gale Harris.

At just thirty, Gale had built a global empire spanning automobiles and fashion. His roots traced back to Michigan; his grandfather once owned a clothing factory near the Fletchers’. That factory had shut years ago when Gale’s father moved to Ireland, falling in love and launching a new clothing line abroad. The Harris family, wealthy and influential, had recently returned to Michigan, fulfilling the elder Harris’s wish to come home.

Gale, however, was a mystery. Rumored to be a ruthless businessman, Darcy had tried to find his photo online but came up empty. After arriving, he had reopened his grandfather’s factory, promising to revitalize the local economy and create jobs. Michigan City, long battered by the decline of manufacturing and the fallout of the subprime crisis, welcomed him with open arms but Darcy wasn’t convinced.

Before his arrival, Gale had made headlines by buying up swaths of real estate and several struggling businesses. To her, it felt less like generosity and more like a calculated takeover. She had her own views about Gale Harris and a growing unease about what his presence might mean for the future of her city.

She stood there watching the things around the factory and waited for the prospective buyer who had shown interest in buying the company but he wanted to see it first. So Darcy had driven to the factory. Darcy was very reluctant to sell it but she had no other choice and if someone buys it before the auction she would be saved from a bigger embarrassment as for the past few months her company had been in headlines because of the scandal caused by her brother. Her father was not keeping well and she didn’t want to bother him anymore with the company’s troubles. And when she received the call the day before from someone named Davis to see the company she had readily agreed.

Darcy had already decided what she would do after she sold off the factory. Firstly, she had to go and find her brother who ran away from home and was not ready to return. Her father was getting older day by day and she knew that he was always worried about Louis, her brother. He rarely spoke about him but when Darcy sees him looking down the road every day with longingness. She knew her father was eagerly waiting for his son to return home.

Last evening she had seen him looking at his photograph and tears were flowing down his cheeks. Darcy felt really sad.

On top of everything, Darcy was preparing to travel to Paris for the Global Design Contest next month. She had earned accolades during her master’s program in London, but since returning home, her talents had been stifled by the company’s endless crises.

Now, at twenty-five, she sighed deeply. Her life had revolved around salvaging the business, and somewhere along the way, she had lost herself. Was this a sign to leave Michigan behind and start anew? Could she?

Lost in thought, she didn’t notice the Bentley gliding through the factory gates.

Darcy was jolted from her thoughts by the guard’s voice. “Miss Fletcher, the prospective buyers have arrived.”

She stepped outside just in time to see a man emerging from a sleek black Maybach. It wasn’t just any car, it was a statement of authority and status. The man himself was equally striking, tall, easily over six feet, with a well-built frame and a tanned complexion. But it was his eyes that caught her off guard, sharp, intelligent, and framed by features so refined they seemed sculpted. Darcy had traveled across Europe during her time in London, met countless people from all walks of life, but none had left her quite as breathless as this stranger.

He looked at her with a hint of amusement as she approached.

“Miss Fletcher?” he said, extending his hand. “Apologies for keeping you waiting I flew in from New York late last night and overslept.”

Darcy smiled, taking his hand briefly. “No problem at all, Mr. Davis. I just arrived myself. Please, come in, I'll show you around.”

Before they could move, another man stepped out of the car, looking as though he had something urgent to say. “Actually, Miss Fletcher… he’s is—”

But the man shot him a warning glance, and the man fell silent.

Darcy raised an eyebrow. “And you are?”

The man cleared his throat, visibly flustered. “I’m John, Mr. Davis’s assistant. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Darcy’s gaze lingered on Mr. Davis’s assistant, and for a moment she was struck dumb. He looked as though he had stepped straight out of a glossy magazine, and it took all her willpower to pull herself back from the thoughts.

“Nice to meet you too,” Darcy replied trying control her emotions. “Sorry for interrupting you, what were you about to say?”

John hesitated, and then smiled sheepishly. “Please don’t be upset. I was just going to say that you are very beautiful Miss Darcy.”

Darcy’s cheeks flushed. Compliments weren’t new to her as she had inherited her mother’s graceful features but they still caught her off guard.

“Thank you,” she said, regaining her composure. “Now, if you’ll follow me, I’ll give you the tour.”

She realized that somehow she was quite nervous.

With the company shuttered for six months, the factory grounds were eerily quiet. Darcy had let go of all her employees, leaving only the loyal guard behind. So today, she had taken it upon herself to guide the visitors through what remained of her family’s legacy.