6. The New Designer of Casa Monter.

Sara felt her heart lurch in her chest. She held her breath and looked away from all the members of the board who had fixed their eyes on her.

"What are you talking about, Grandma?" Luna asked brusquely.

Mrs. Amelia picked up Sara’s notebook and threw it at her granddaughter, slamming it against the table with force.

"Look at the designs. None of the designers out there will manage to create something like this. I think Sara’s innovative ideas could do the company good at a critical moment like this one. But I’m not the only one who can say that. The president is Emiliano. He has two votes, unlike the rest of us, who only have one."

Laura, the other twin, spoke while examining the tips of her hair, vain as ever.

"It’s obvious my brother is going to vote yes."

"And I ask that you vote the same," their grandmother scolded them.

Sara remembered the woman well. She was strong and determined like her husband had been. Everyone respected her. Her opinion mattered. She was the matriarch of the Monter legacy.

"Well, of course there isn’t any designer out there capable of making things like this, because my brother had the brilliant idea of hiring ordinary people," Luna snapped, closing the notebook angrily. "I sent him a proposal with professional designers who are willing to work for Casa Monter."

"And I told you I didn’t want any professional designers," Emiliano scoffed. "They’re arrogant. They have a marked and defined style that they refuse to change for anything. Stubborn, obstinate. Believe me, I’ve met enough of them to know what they’re like. We need a designer who can adapt to Casa Monter’s needs, not a designer that Casa Monter has to adapt to. Obviously, I vote for Sara to be our new designer. Her ideas are innovative, and as for the proposal—financially speaking—I think it’s spectacular. I believe it’s time Casa Monter begins to expand. Selling clothing only for the upper class makes our market very small."

"Yes, and now any mediocre person will be able to wear something with the brand," Luna attacked again.

Emiliano struck the table with the palm of his hand.

"I don’t care. Whether it’s worn by millionaires or modest people, Casa Monter clothing will still be Casa Monter clothing—with quality and excellence, whether you like it or not. You were the one who voted for me to become president, remember? Do you regret it now?"

Luna fixed her cold eyes on Sara, who looked away.

"Well, I vote no. And so do my sisters."

"Then let them say it themselves," Emiliano roared.

Laura and Leticia looked at each other. Even though Sara knew them, the resemblance between the three women still sent chills down her spine. The other two nodded in agreement again.

There were three votes against and three in favor. That left Emiliano’s father and three more investors from the other family that owned Casa Monter—the Hidalgos.

Emiliano’s father was a tall man like his son, with completely white hair and a gaze as cold as his daughters’. Sara had hardly ever spoken to him. The few words they had exchanged had been as cold as ice. But the man lifted his chin, clenched his fists, then relaxed them.

"I agree with my mother. Let the woman come in. Let her prove what she’s capable of. And if we see it doesn’t work, we simply replace her."

Luna pushed her chair back, letting out a breath full of impatience.

With the positive votes from Mrs. Amelia and Emiliano’s father, the other investors had no choice but to go along and accept. When Emiliano clapped loudly, Sara jumped.

"Then it’s settled. Sara Fansheri, the new designer of Casa Monter."

He picked up the phone in the center of the boardroom table and pressed the button.

"Camila, please tell the other designer candidates that we’ve already found our designer, that we apologize for the inconvenience, and that they may leave."

He hung up the phone and looked at Sara coldly.

"Is Camila still your secretary?" Sara asked.

The man nodded.

"Of course she is. Now, I’m going to bring a bottle of champagne. We have to celebrate this."

He stood up and left the boardroom.

Sara felt uneasy about staying there alone with everyone. She wondered why he hadn’t asked his secretary or a waiter to bring the bottle. Maybe he wanted to do it personally, but she still felt uncomfortable.

She reached out her hand and tried to grab her notebook, but instead of helping her bring it closer, Luna pushed it farther away with her hand.

Mrs. Amelia stood up. With slow steps she took Sara’s notebook, walked around the table, and handed it to her. Then she looked at her granddaughter.

"If it’s true that you love this company as much as you say you do, prove it. Sara is now the designer, and you will show her respect. I will not tolerate fights in my company."

"I don’t even know why we chose Emiliano as president if you’re still the one giving orders," Luna said.

Mrs. Amelia laughed sarcastically.

"Luna, only the grave will stop me from giving orders to my grandchildren."

She extended her hand to Sara, and Sara shook it.

"Welcome, dear. I hope you do an excellent job."

"Of course I will, Mrs. Amelia. Thank you very much for the opportunity."

Sara was so nervous that she had not yet fully processed what had happened. She was the new designer of Casa Monter. Her dream had always been to become the designer of an important fashion house—or to have her own clothing brand.

She had never imagined herself working at Casa Monter, but now that she was, it seemed wonderful. She knew things would not be easy. The infernal triplets could make her life impossible. But Sara knew that the design department was independent from the rest of the company. They would not be able to interfere with her work. The only one who could say anything to her would be Emiliano, and he seemed happy that she was there—even if it was for revenge.

The thought made her smile.

But then she remembered something, and it hit her like a bucket of cold water.

Emiliano was married. Married—bound to a woman she didn’t even know.

Maybe they had fallen deeply in love. Maybe he loved her, and that was why he had married her.

In any case, she scolded herself. She knew very well she would never have a second chance with Emiliano. He had hurt her deeply, and she had hurt him deeply as well.

"Will you excuse me until young Emiliano returns?" Sara said, standing up. "But I can’t stay. Enjoy the champagne for me. I’ll come early tomorrow to sign my contract, and I’ll start working that same day."

Mrs. Amelia nodded.

"Welcome, Sara. We’ll see you tomorrow."

The young woman left the boardroom, closing the door behind her, and walked quickly toward the elevator before Emiliano could see her. She wanted to get away from him. That would be difficult while working in the same company, but if they were in different departments, they would only have to see each other when strictly necessary.

When she reached the elevator, she saw it crowded with the other candidates, who looked at her with hostility. So Sara turned around and ran down the stairs.

When she reached the first floor, she took about ten minutes to drink some water and calm the nerves tightening in her throat. When she stepped outside, she raised her hand to hail a taxi from the street—but someone caught up with her.

"Listen to me carefully, you damn whore."

It was Luna.

She grabbed Sara by the shoulder and spun her around roughly. She had a champagne glass in her hand.

"Here’s your welcome."

Quickly, she tipped the contents of the glass over Sara’s head.

Then she turned away, smiling.

But Sara was no longer the same woman she had once been. She was no longer the foolish girl who allowed herself to be humiliated.

With force, she grabbed the woman by the hair and yanked it, throwing her to the ground.