Chapter 3

VICTORIA

I picked up my phone only to resume staring at the sketches on my screen, my mouth slightly open.

They were all there—the dresses, the color palettes, even the outlines I used to stay up late perfecting before the wedding. Everything looked just how I remembered. And somehow, Clark Sterling had recovered them.

My hands shook as I scrolled through the files. Trent made me burn them all. I could still hear his voice that night. “You won’t need this childish dream anymore, Victoria. You’re a Rhodes now.”

How did Clark even get them?

Isabella walked in with a cup of coffee and stopped when she saw my face. “What’s wrong?”

“Look,” I said quietly, turning the phone toward her.

She leaned over, her eyes widening immediately. “Those are your old designs.”

“I know.”

“Wait, how did he get them?”

“I have no idea.”

She frowned. “So this guy, Clark Sterling, just sends you your destroyed sketches like some kind of fairy godmother?”

I gave a short, breathless laugh. “Yeah. Something like that.”

“Are you going to meet him?”

I looked at the message again. “Yes,” I finally said. “I need to know why he has them.”

Isabella stared at me for a long moment before sighing. “Fine. But if he tries anything shady, call me. I’ll bring a frying pan.”

That made me smile a little. “You and your frying pan.”

***

The next morning, I stood in front of the mirror, not sure what to wear. It had been weeks since I’d cared about how I looked. My eyes were still puffy, and my cheeks were pale, but I found one of Isabella’s old blouses.

I ironed it, paired it with a pair of black pants, tied my hair back, and told myself to at least look like someone who was holding it together.

The address Clark sent led me to a rooftop restaurant in Manhattan. When the elevator doors opened, the city spread out before me, and all I could see were tall buildings, moving lights, and a soft wind that carried the smell of coffee and rain.

Clark Sterling was already there.

He stood when he saw me. He looked tall, handsome, and confident just like I’d expected him to be. His calm green eyes looked straight into mine.

“Victoria Hale,” he said with a small smile. “You look like someone who’s survived the storm.”

I didn’t smile back. “Why do you have my designs?”

He gestured for me to sit. “Because you’re talented,” he said simply. “And because they remind me of what Trent stole from you.”

His voice was really smooth. It was the kind of tone people used when they were always in control.

“Stole from me?” I repeated, sitting down.

He nodded and slid a folder across the table. “Open it.”

I hesitated, then pulled it closer. Inside were printed documents; financial statements, old drafts of Rhodes Enterprises’ plans, and a familiar signature at the bottom of one page. Mine.

My breath hitched. “Where did you get these?”

He didn’t answer directly. “You invested three hundred thousand dollars of your savings into Trent’s company before the wedding. He used your name to get investors on board. You built his empire, Victoria. Without you, there would be no Rhodes Enterprises.”

I blinked, trying to make sense of it. “How do you know all this?”

He shrugged casually. “I make it my business to know things. Especially about Trent Rhodes.”

That made me tense. “So this is about him.”

“Partly,” he admitted. “But it’s also about you. You deserve better than to hide while he walks around taking credit for the company you built.”

I stared down at the papers, my stomach twisting. It was one thing to know I’d helped him; it was another to see proof that I was the reason his company even existed.

“What do you want from me?” I asked.

He smiled wider. “I want you to rebuild. Start your fashion brand again, this time with my help.”

I frowned. “You’d invest in me? Just like that?”

He leaned back in his chair. “Not just like that. I believe in results. You have talent, and I have the resources. Together, we can build something far bigger than Rhodes Enterprises.”

His confidence made me uneasy. “You’re not doing this out of kindness,” I said quietly. “What’s the catch?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Help me take Trent down.”

I blinked. “You want revenge.”

“Justice,” he corrected calmly. “I want him to lose everything he stole. You want the same thing, but you just don’t want to admit it yet.”

I wanted to say no, that I didn’t care about Trent anymore, but that wasn’t true. I did care. I wanted him to feel everything I felt that night.

Clark leaned forward slightly. “You have the skill, the story, and the determination. People will root for you. I’ll handle the rest.”

I stayed quiet for a while, watching the city below us. Somewhere out there, Trent and Diana were probably celebrating their engagement, laughing over champagne. My chest tightened.

“What if I fail?” I asked softly.

Clark looked at me like the thought had never even crossed his mind. “You won’t.”

He stood, buttoning his jacket. “Think about it, Victoria. You don’t have to decide now.”

He placed his business card on the table. “When you’re ready, call me.”

Then he walked away, leaving me alone on the rooftop.

I sat there for a few more minutes, looking at the folder. My name on the documents felt strange, like I was reading about someone else. Someone stronger than me.

When I finally left, the city felt different. For the first time in a long while, I didn’t feel invisible.

Back at Isabella’s apartment, she was waiting for me on the couch. “So?” she asked the second I walked in. “How did it go? Is he a creep?”

I shook my head slowly. “No. He’s… intense. But not creepy.”

“And?”

“He wants to help me start my brand again,” I said. “He even showed me proof that I funded Rhodes Enterprises.”

Her jaw dropped. “What?”

“Yeah,” I said, sitting beside her. “He has everything. The records, bank transfers, even my old signature.”

“That’s insane. How did he even get all that?”

“He didn’t say,” I admitted. “He just said he wants me to rebuild. But he also wants me to help him take Trent down.”

Isabella crossed her arms. “So, revenge with a side of business.”

“Pretty much.”

She grinned. “You’re actually considering it, aren’t you?”

I sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Good,” she said, nudging my shoulder. “It’s about time someone made that jerk pay.”

We spent the rest of the evening talking about it, but even after she went to bed, I couldn’t stop thinking about Clark’s words: “You built his empire.”

He was right.

I had spent years pouring myself into Trent’s success. I gave him my money, my ideas, and my love. And he repaid me with betrayal. Maybe it was time to take something back.

I looked at the folder again, still on the coffee table. Something inside told me to check it one more time.

When I opened it, another photo slipped out and fell to the floor. I picked it up slowly.

It was Trent and Diana, standing arm in arm at some gala. She was wearing a sparkly dress with her hand on his chest, both of them smiling like the happiest couple in the world.

At the bottom of the photo were five words.

*Time to make your move.*

I knew it had to be Clark’s handwriting.

My pulse quickened as I stared at the picture. For the first time since everything fell apart, I didn’t feel broken. I felt awake.

I ran my thumb over the note again, whispering to myself, “Maybe it’s time.”