Chapter 48

Rose point of view

The showroom that had once been my pride now felt like a tomb. Silent. Empty. Abandoned. I moved between the clothing racks, touching fabrics that represented thousands of hours of work. My spring collection, the one fashion critics had called "boundary-pushing" and "career-defining" just weeks ago, hung untouched, unsold, unwanted.

My phone buzzed for the twentieth time that morning. Another cancellation, no doubt. Another buyer pulling orders. Another door ...