Freya's POV
The familiarity I felt toward Old Madam Ben lingered as she led me deeper into the sitting room. Whatever connection existed between us would have to wait. I was here for business.
"Ladies," Old Madam Ben announced to the room, "this is Ms. Freya Colby, the talented designer I told you about."
The women turned toward me with genuine interest rather than the polite disinterest I'd grown accustomed to from wealthy clients. Their expressions were warm, curious.
"Ms. Colby," one of them said, rising gracefully, "your work is extraordinary. I've seen the pieces you created for the Morrison wedding."
Another woman nodded enthusiastically. "The attention to detail is remarkable. You have a gift."
I felt my cheeks warm at their praise. After the constant criticism from my stepfamily and the Tristans' condescension, genuine appreciation felt foreign.
"Thank you," I managed. "I'm honored to be here."
