Semua Bab UGLY? No More!: Bab 11 - Bab 20

Crane frowned slightly, but said nothing.Julian stiffened.And Elara sat still as stone.Leonard leaned forward, folding his hands, voice casual, but deadly sharp beneath.“You've done well for yourself, Elara. Very well. From campus ghost to industry darling. No one saw it coming.”Julian opened his mouth, but Elara cut in first.“Neither did I. But here we are.”Leonard smiled, slow and cold. “We are indeed.”Crane cleared his throat. “Leonard.”“No,” Leonard said, still staring at her. “She should know. When I saw the name on the project file, I thought it was coincidence. But when I saw the sketches? I knew. No one draws like that but her.”Julian looked at Elara, confused. “I still don’t understand what...”“I was her first,” Leonard said bluntly, eyes never leaving hers.The words hung in the air like a gut punch.Julian’s chair scraped sharply against the floor.“Elara,” he said, voice low and measured. “Do you want me to remove him?”She didn’t look at Julian. Her entire bein

Elara watched them disappear through the hallway, that magnetic bond between them like threads stitched in an ornate family crest, complicated, fraying in some places, but still holding.She let out a breath and leaned against the marble topped welcome table, glancing around the polished, curated space.Julian’s world was many things.But more and more, it was starting to feel like something she wasn’t afraid to be part of.Elara pushed through the frosted glass doors that led into the atelier’s designer floor, the scent of muslin, fresh coffee, and fabric glue welcoming her like a warm hug.Bolts of velvet and silk lined the walls in bursts of color. Designers were clustered around worktables, some sketching furiously, others arguing over hem lengths and beadwork.The place pulsed with that familiar pre showcase tension, creative, chaotic, and alive.It was home.Elara moved among them easily, her fingers brushing over unfinished pieces, checking line work, correcting minor details w

Elara’s gaze fell slightly.Vivienne, with far more softness than her usual flair, leaned in.“I’ve seen him build empires out of silence and ambition. But he listens when you speak, Elara. That means something. Maybe not now, maybe not in a grand ‘let’s run away together’ way. But it’s there. And that boy’s been cold for far too long.”“I’m not…” Elara hesitated. “I don’t know what I am to him.”Vivienne smiled gently. “Then let him tell you. And if he doesn’t have the courage to say it, maybe you already have your answer.”Just then, the elevator doors pinged again in the distance.Elara didn’t turn.But Vivienne gave her a knowing wink.“Speak of the emotionally repressed devil.”She handed Elara the untouched second cup of cappuccino she’d brought in, this one with a tiny chocolate biscotti tucked into the lid.“Latte. Extra hot. I assumed you’d need one.”“Thank you,” Elara murmured.Vivienne gave a satisfied nod and adjusted her coat. “I’ll let you get back to saving fashion. Ju

The door behind her creaked softly. One of the interns poked their head in.“Elara? They’re asking for you in the main room. Final sample check.”She nodded without lifting her head. “I’ll be right there.”When the door clicked shut again, she sat up slowly, smoothing a hand over her hair and wiping the corner of her eyes with quick, practiced fingers.Then, she looked at the unfinished gown.Not just a dress.A metaphor.Elegant. Dramatic. But stitched together with seams no one could see unless they were really looking.Just like her.She stood, smoothed her blouse, and drew in a steady breath.Julian Cross may have seen her strength…But he hadn’t yet seen her truth.And until he did… she wasn’t sure either of them could truly move forward......................The scent of warm cinnamon rolls and buttered croissants wafted through the upscale indoor mall, clinging to the air like an invitation.Lydia Hayes stood near a boutique storefront, her designer purse slung over one should

The older woman’s eyes flashed. “Your granddaughter, if she even is your granddaughter, should be taught to respect her betters.”“She’s two years old,” the nanny hissed. “She fell. You shoved her.”“She walked into Lila,” Mrs. Shaw snapped.“She was standing still when Lila brushed past her!” the nanny shot back, raising her voice for the first time. “I saw it!”Lydia raised a hand to steady her. “Don’t. They’re not worth shouting over.”She turned back to the women. “You think wealth makes you untouchable. But all it does is put a bigger spotlight on your cruelty.”Lila rolled her eyes. “We don’t owe you anything.”“No,” Lydia agreed softly, looking down at her trembling granddaughter. “You don’t owe me. But you owe her an apology. And if you don’t give it, just know the next time we speak, it won’t be in public.”Lila smirked. “Is that a threat?”“It’s a promise,” Lydia said with a chilling calm that made even a passing security guard hesitate nearby.The little girl hiccupped agai