Chapter Six

“I understand,” Blair whispered, although she was struggling to accept what she had just heard.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Smith. There’s nothing more I can do,” the man on the other end of the call said.

The call disconnected.

The silence that followed was almost unbearable.

She sat motionless on the edge of the velvet sofa, her phone pressed against her ear even after the line had disconnected. She stared at the screen, waiting for it to ring again, as though Marco might suddenly reconsider and tell her there had been a mistake.

But the screen remained dark.

She slowly lowered the phone into her lap.

Five years.

Five years of working for Alexander Kent, sacrificing weekends, missing birthdays and putting her ambitions on hold. Every late night, every canceled plan and every exhausting day had been for this moment. She had carefully saved, planned every detail and convinced herself that once she finally walked away from Kent Corporation, the hardest part would be over.

She had been wrong.

A tear rolled down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly, but another followed.

Her gaze drifted towards the coffee table. Fabric samples, sketches and supplier documents were spread neatly across its surface. A few months ago, looking at them had filled her with excitement. Now, in less than ten minutes, every single pillar of that dream had begun to crumble into dust.

The front door opened.

“If I have to smile at one more customer who changes their coffee order three times, I’m quitting,” Cassie muttered as she stepped inside.

“And don’t even get me started on the man who insisted his latte was too hot when he specifically asked for extra hot.”

She kicked off her shoes and turned towards the living room.

“Hey, honey! How’s the collection coming along? Did you manage to—”

She stopped mid-sentence.

Blair didn’t look up.

Cassie’s expression changed immediately. She crossed the room, her eyes fixed on her friend’s tear-stained face.

“Blair? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Cassie lowered herself slowly onto the sofa beside her.

“Hey. Talk to me.”

Blair swallowed, but her throat felt painfully tight.

“I think it’s over, Cass.”

Cassie frowned. “What’s over, Blair?”

“The collection. The business. Everything.”

“What are you talking about?”

Blair looked down at the phone in her hand.

“Marco called.”

Cassie waited.

“Marco? The supplier in Milan?”

Blair nodded.

Marco was the production manager at an Italian textile mill Blair had contacted several weeks earlier.

“What’s happened? Is there a problem with the production schedule?”

“He canceled the agreement.”

For a moment, Cassie simply stared at her.

“He what?”

“He canceled our order. The entire order.”

“Why?”

Blair let out a shaky breath.

“He said there’s been a restructuring at the mill. Apparently, a major corporate client has purchased their entire production allocation for the next two quarters. They paid the penalty f*e to terminate existing agreements, including ours.”

Cassie sat back, trying to process what she had heard.

“But you have a signed contract. You paid the deposit.”

“I know.”

“Then how can they just cancel?”

“There’s a priority buyout clause. It’s buried in the agreement.” Blair rubbed her forehead. “I didn’t think anyone would invoke it. Not for an order this small.”

“Did you ask who bought the allocation?”

“He wouldn’t tell me.”

“Surely he gave you some explanation.”

“He said they paid triple the standard cancellation f*e. That’s enough to make our agreement irrelevant.”

Cassie shook her head.

“That’s ridiculous. You can’t compete with that kind of money, Blair.”

“I know.”

“Did he say anything about returning your deposit?”

“He’s arranging the transfer.”

“Then that’s something. At least you haven’t lost all the money.”

Blair looked at her.

“That’s not the only problem.”

Before Cassie could respond, a notification sounded from the laptop on the coffee table.

Blair glanced at the screen.

An email from Auvessaire House.

Her stomach tightened.

Auvessaire House was one of the first major retailers to show genuine interest in her upcoming Spring collection. Blair had been taking private orders for months, working with individual clients and gradually building a name for herself. But this was different. The Spring collection would be her first official launch as a designer, a carefully curated line she hoped would take Blair Vance Atelier beyond private commissions and into the wider fashion industry.

Their managing director had personally reviewed her designs and agreed to place a substantial advance order. It was the kind of opportunity independent designers spent years trying to secure.

Blair reached for the laptop.

“What’s that?” Cassie asked.

“Auvessaire House.”

She opened the email.

The first few lines were enough to make her sit upright.

Dear Ms. Smith,

Following a recent review of information brought to our attention concerning your proposed collection, we regret to inform you that Auvessaire House will be withdrawing from the existing purchase agreement with immediate effect.

Blair’s eyes moved further down the page.

The message accused her of misrepresenting the quality and origin of the fabrics intended for the collection. According to the background investigation Auvessaire House had carried out, her proposed production line contained unverified synthetic blends that failed to meet the retailer’s quality requirements.

She read the paragraph again.

Then a third time.

“This can’t be happening.”

Cassie leaned closer.

“What?”

Blair turned the laptop towards her.

Cassie read the email, her expression hardening with every line.

“Unverified synthetic blends?” she repeated. “What does that even mean?”

“They’re saying my materials don’t meet their standards.”

“But you personally selected those fabrics. You have the specifications, the supplier certificates and the samples. How can they make a claim like this?”

Blair scrolled down.

At the bottom was another paragraph.

Auvessaire House demanded a full refund of its advance deposit before midnight. Failure to comply would result in the matter being referred to its legal department for possible misrepresentation and breach of contract.

Cassie looked at her in disbelief.

“They’re threatening legal action?”

Blair nodded.

“How did they arrive at this information?” Cassie asked. “And why would they believe it without even speaking to you first?”

Blair didn’t answer.

Her eyes remained fixed on the screen.

The timing was too convenient. First, the supplier canceled the agreement. Now, the retailer was questioning the quality of materials she hadn’t even received.

She wondered where she had gone wrong. What she had missed.

“Call them,” Cassie said. “You need to speak to the manager. Explain that something must have gone wrong during the investigation and ask them to send you whatever documentation they discovered.”

“I can’t prove anything without the supplier.”

“Why not? You have the samples.”

“The samples aren’t enough, Cass. They need the original material certificates and confirmation of the production specifications. Marco was supposed to provide the final documentation before manufacturing.”

“Then tell them the supplier has canceled the agreement. They should understand that.”

“That doesn’t change what they’re accusing me of.”

Blair closed the laptop halfway and leaned back.

She could already imagine the consequences. Auvessaire House was a respected name in New York’s fashion retail industry. If they accused her of misrepresentation, other buyers would hear about it. She had spent months making sure every detail was right, but somehow, her biggest opportunity had crumbled before a single garment from the collection had been produced.

“How much do they want back?” Cassie asked.

Blair hesitated.

“The entire advance.”

“How much is that?”

She told her.

Cassie went quiet.

“Blair, that’s a lot of money.”

“I know.”

“Can you negotiate a few days? At least give yourself time to sort this out.”

“They’ve already made their decision.”

“Then don’t send the money tonight. You don’t have to do everything they demand.”

Blair looked at her friend.

“If I don’t return it, they’ll involve their lawyers. I can’t afford to fight a legal battle with a company like Auvessaire House.”

“You’re not admitting to anything by asking for time.”

“I know, Cassie. But I can’t risk this becoming a bigger problem.”

She reopened the laptop and logged into her business account.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.

The advance deposit had been the financial breathing room she needed to get the collection started. Returning it meant losing the little security she had left after paying the supplier’s initial deposit.

She entered Auvessaire House’s account details.

Cassie watched her carefully.

“Are you sure about this?”

Blair didn’t respond.

She entered the amount and reviewed the transfer details. For a few seconds, she stared at the confirmation button.

She remembered opening the account after receiving her first major salary increase at Kent Corporation. She remembered the small transfers she made every month, even when she wanted to spend the money on something else. She remembered calculating how many more months she needed before she could finally afford to leave.

It had taken years to build that balance.

One click was about to undo it.

She pressed confirm.

The page loaded.

Then a green notification appeared.

Transfer completed successfully.

Blair stared at the screen.

The money was gone.

Cassie reached for her hand.

“Blair…”

“I’ve just sent back the money that was supposed to help me take my business to the next level.”

Her voice was barely audible.

She looked at the remaining balance. Between the initial supplier deposit and the refund to Auvessaire House, there was barely anything left.

And Marco’s refund hadn’t arrived.

“If he doesn’t return my deposit soon, I won’t be able to cover the outstanding expenses,” she continued. “I’ve already paid for the workspace, the registration and the initial development costs. I don’t even know how I’m going to manage next month’s rent.”

Cassie moved closer.

“We’ll work something out.”

“With what money?”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“There’s nothing to figure out, Cass.”

Her voice cracked.

“I don’t have a supplier anymore. I don’t have a buyer. And now I’ve got a retailer threatening to take legal action against me over something I didn’t do.”

Cassie pulled her into an embrace.

Blair resisted for a moment, pressing her lips together as she tried to hold herself together. But the effort was pointless. She buried her face against Cassie’s shoulder, and the sob she had been fighting finally escaped.

“I worked so hard for this,” she whispered.

“I know.”

“I gave up so much.”

“I know, Blair.”

“I just wanted something of my own.”

Cassie tightened her arms around her.

“You still deserve that.”

Blair shook her head.

“Look where it got me.”

They remained like that for a while, neither of them speaking.

Eventually, Cassie pulled back and brushed a strand of hair away from Blair’s face.

“Have you tried calling Marco again?”

Blair wiped her cheeks.

“Three times.”

“Try once more. Maybe he’ll answer now.”

Blair picked up her phone. She found Marco’s contact and pressed the call button, placing the phone between them.

The line rang.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Then an automated voice came through.

“The person you are trying to reach is currently unavailable. Please try again later.”

The call ended.

Blair looked at the screen.

She tried again.

The same message.

Her shoulders dropped.

“Then we’ll contact the mill directly. There has to be someone else who can help.”

“I’ve already tried.”

“Blair—”

“There’s nothing else to say, Cass.”

She placed the phone on the table.

For the first time since the call, she wasn’t crying. She simply sat there, looking at the carefully arranged fabric samples.

The deep emerald silk had been her favorite. She had imagined it as the centerpiece of the Spring collection, paired with a fitted silhouette and delicate detailing. She could almost picture it on a model walking down a runway.

Now, she couldn’t even imagine getting the fabric.

Cassie followed her gaze.

“Those designs are still yours,” she said quietly. “Nobody can take that away from you.”

Blair picked up her sketchpad.

On the cover, written in her own handwriting, were the words:

Blair Vance Atelier — Spring Collection.

It was the collection she had spent months preparing, the one she hoped would introduce her brand to a much bigger audience.

She ran her thumb over the lettering.

“I thought I was finally getting somewhere.”

“You were.”

“Then why does it feel like I’ve lost everything?”

Cassie didn’t have an answer.

Blair closed the sketchpad and placed it back on the table.

She had already built something small with her own hands. Her private clients, the orders she had completed and the reputation she was slowly establishing had given her confidence. But the Spring collection was supposed to be her breakthrough, the opportunity to take everything she had built to the next level.

Now, even that seemed out of reach.

“Starting a business is never easy,” Cassie said. “But that doesn’t mean you deserve this.”

Blair gave a faint nod.

Cassie stood and walked towards the kitchen.

“I’m getting you some water. And after that, you’re going to eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I didn’t ask if you were hungry.”

Under different circumstances, Blair might have smiled at that. Tonight, she barely reacted.

Cassie returned with two glasses and placed one in front of her.

“Drink.”

Blair picked it up and took a small sip.

“Thank you.”

Cassie sat beside her again.

“Listen to me. We’re not making any more decisions tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll look at the contracts, contact the mill and find out exactly what happened. We’ll deal with Auvessaire House separately.”

Blair stared into her glass.

“And if there’s nothing we can do?”

“Then we’ll find another way.”

“What if there isn’t another way?”

Cassie took her hand.

“Then we’ll make one.”

Blair wanted to believe her. She really did.

But the exhaustion was beginning to catch up with her. She had spent the last few weeks convincing herself that leaving Kent Corporation was the beginning of a better life. Now, she wasn’t sure what she had left to begin with.

Her gaze returned to the sketchpad.

For months, it had represented everything she wanted. Tonight, it reminded her of everything she might never have.

Outside, the last traces of daylight disappeared, leaving the apartment illuminated only by the warm light of the lamps.

Cassie remained beside her, occasionally asking if she needed anything.

Blair barely heard her.

She leaned back against the sofa, closed her eyes and let the silence settle around her.

For the first time since handing in her resignation, she found herself wondering whether walking away from Alexander Kent had been the biggest mistake of her life.