Semua Bab My Ex's Boss is My Baby's Father: Bab 11 - Bab 20

Two weeks into production, Riley burst into my studio looking panicked."We have a problem," she said, waving a tablet. "A big problem."I looked up from the pattern I was adjusting. "What kind of problem?""Our fabric order. It's been cancelled."The pencil slipped from my hand. "Cancelled? By who?""Volt Textiles. They sent an email this morning saying they can't fulfill our order. No explanation, just a standard cancellation notice."My stomach dropped. Volt Textiles. Travis's company.I grabbed the tablet and read the email. It was exactly as Riley described. Professional, brief, and devastating. All of our sustainable fabric orders cancelled effective immediately."Can we use different suppliers?" Riley asked."No." I sank into my chair, mind racing. "The fabrics I specified are exclusive to Volt Textiles. Travis developed them using techniques I created. No other company has the technology to produce them.""So we're stuck?""We're sabotaged." I stared at the email, fury buildin

The morning sickness hit me at six thirty, right in the middle of the design team meeting.We were reviewing fabric samples that had arrived from Lucien's Italian suppliers. Beautiful materials, exactly what I needed. Riley was explaining the production timeline while Margaret examined the weave and quality of each piece.Then the nausea rolled over me like a wave.I tried to breathe through it, focusing on the fabric in my hands. Natural linen blend, soft and durable. Perfect for the structured pieces in my collection. I just needed to concentrate on work, not on the churning in my stomach."Chloe, what do you think about the color variation?" Riley asked. "Should we order multiple dye lots or stick with one?"The room tilted slightly. I gripped the edge of the table."Multiple," I managed. "We want depth and richness, not flat uniformity."Margaret was watching me with narrowed eyes. "Are you feeling alright? You look pale.""I'm fine. Just tired. Late night working on sketches."Bu

Eight weeks until New York Fashion Week.The number haunted me. Eight weeks to finish twenty looks, each one using construction techniques we were still perfecting. Eight weeks to train the production team, source all materials, handle fittings, coordinate with hair and makeup, book the venue, arrange music, manage lighting, and accomplish a thousand other details.I barely slept. My pregnancy exhaustion was getting worse, not better, but I couldn't slow down. Every day felt like running uphill with weights strapped to my body.Model castings started on a Wednesday morning. We'd rented a space downtown with good natural light and enough room for models to walk. Riley had contacted agencies across the city, and we'd received responses from over a hundred models interested in walking our show.I sat behind a long table with Riley and the casting director, a woman named Simone who'd worked every major Fashion Week for the past twenty years. She was blunt, efficient, and had an eye for wh

I was crying over a sketch when Lucien found me.It was past midnight. The building was empty except for security and the cleaning crew. I'd been working on collection details, refining pieces, making sure every element was perfect.Then I'd drawn something without thinking. A small jacket with origami folds, perfectly proportioned for a child. Maybe age five or six. The same age as Leo.Staring at it, I'd started crying. For Leo, who I missed desperately. For my unborn baby, who I was already failing by working too hard and sleeping too little. For the children's clothes I'd never design because I was too busy trying to prove I could succeed in adult fashion.I didn't hear Lucien enter. Didn't know he was there until he spoke."It's past midnight. Again."I jerked up, hastily wiping my eyes. Lucien stood in the doorway, his tie loosened and jacket gone. He looked tired, like he'd been working as late as me."I'm just finishing up some details," I said, my voice rough from crying.He

I'd finally moved out of Tessy's apartment two weeks ago. The small studio I'd rented in Brooklyn wasn't much, but it was mine. One room with a tiny kitchen, a bathroom barely big enough to turn around in, and a Murphy bed that folded into the wall. But the rent was cheap, the building was safe, and it gave me independence.I was making dinner on a Wednesday evening when the shouting started."Chloe! I know you're in there! Open the door!"My blood ran cold. Travis."Chloe!" More pounding on the door. "We need to talk! You can't keep avoiding me!"I stood frozen in my tiny kitchen, heart racing. How did he find my address? I'd been so careful, using Riley's address on official documents, never mentioning where I lived.The pounding continued. "Open this door right now!"A neighbor's door opened. "Hey! Keep it down out there!""Mind your own business," Travis snarled. "This is between me and my wife.""Your wife doesn't seem to want to talk to you.""I said mind your business!"More do