Not long after engrossing herself in work, Whitney’s phone buzzed against the table, slicing straight through her concentration.She jumped slightly, snapping her head toward the vibrating device, the screen flashed. ‘Miriam Moschino Milan.’ Her stomach clenched, the moment she saw her mentor's name flash on the phone. Not that she was afraid, but Miriam was the one person she trusted without hesitation, but with the pressure of expectations. On the contrary, Miriam only called when something mattered, without wasting time, Whitney slid her finger across the screen. “Miri?”“Cara mia,” Miriam’s rich Italian accent poured through the speaker, warm and brisk at the same time. “Tell me you are sitting down.”Whitney blinked. “I am.”“Good, because if you faint, I am not there to catch you and honestly I am wearing heels today.”Whitney huffed a soft laugh despite the knot in her chest. “What’s going on?” She asked. At the same time, there was a rustling on the other end, papers shuff
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