Celine walked into her office few minutes late, her heels clicked against the polished floor as staff greeted her, already preparing for the morning meeting.
"Conference room. Five minutes," she said, not slowing down.
Moments later, she stood at the head of the table, tablet in hand, a cup of coffee resting beside her. Stacy sat close by, pen ready, already flipping to a fresh page.
"The Easter collection needs to stand out," Celine began, her voice calm but firm. "Not safe. Not predictable. I want bold structure, something that makes people stop and look twice."
She took a slow sip of her hot coffee, eyes scanning the room.
"We're not just designing clothes. We're setting direction."
A pause.
"Our competitors are already moving." She tapped her tablet lightly. "Maison Verite just released their preview line. It's elegant… and expected."
A few nods around the table.
Celine's lips curved slightly. "We don't do expected."
She leaned forward slightly. "So—ideas. I want something out of the box."
There was a brief silence before one of the designers spoke.
"Aisha," Celine called, gesturing lightly. "Go ahead."
Aisha adjusted in her seat. "Instead of silk as the main focus… we could mix textures. Maybe structured organza with softer underlayers."
Stacy's pen moved quickly across the page.
Celine nodded slowly. "Good. Contrast always catches attention."
"Daniel?" she prompted without looking.
Daniel leaned forward. "What if we play with asymmetry? Not just cuts … uneven hems, layered drapes. Something slightly disruptive."
Celine hummed thoughtfully, taking another sip of her coffee.
"Not bad," she said.
A light chuckle moved around the room.
"Lina?"
"What about color?" Lina added. "Instead of the usual pastels for Easter… we go deeper. Muted golds, burnt tones, maybe even sharp blacks paired with soft accents."
Stacy looked up briefly. "That would stand out against competitors."
"Exactly," Celine said, her eyes lighting slightly. "That's the point."
Another voice chimed in. "How about detachable pieces? Like… a dress that transforms?"
Celine turned. "Mark."
He nodded. "Yes, like a day-to-night look. Functional but still high fashion
"I want sketches on that," Celine continued. "Today."
She straightened, looking around the room.
"This is what we're doing. We push boundaries. We take risks. And we make sure when our collection drops, no one forgets it."
Heads nodded in agreement.
"Stacy, I want revisions on the silk line. The flow is too basic."
"On it," Stacy replied quickly.
"Good. Meeting adjourned."
Just as she stepped out, a raised voice echoed from the showroom.
"I said I want the latest piece, not this… whatever this is."
Celine's expression didn't change as she walked toward the scene.
A young woman stood there, dripping in expensive taste but lacking any form of manners, snapping her fingers at a sales assistant.
Celine stepped in smoothly.
"Is there a problem?"
The girl turned, eyeing her. "Yes. Your staff doesn't seem to understand quality"
Celine glanced briefly at the assistant before looking back at her. Calm. Composed.
"Our staff understands quality perfectly," she said. "Perhaps the issue is communication."
The girl scoffed. "Do you even know who I am?"
Celine's lips curved slightly. "No. And it doesn't change anything."
A few heads turned.
The girl straightened, clearly offended. "I'm willing to pay. A lot. So I suggest you fix your attitude."
Celine held her gaze, unshaken.
"We don't sell to people who treat others badly," she said evenly.
Silence.
The girl blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me."
Her tone didn't rise. Didn't need to.
"If respect is too expensive for you, then unfortunately, so are our clothes."
A few quiet gasps followed.
The girl's face flushed with anger. "This is ridiculous!"
"Have a good day," Celine replied calmly.
Fuming, the girl turned and stormed out, her heels clicking louder than necessary.
The showroom fell quiet for a second,
Then slowly, normalcy returned.
Celine turned to her staff. "You did great ."
The assistant nodded quickly, clearly grateful.
Celine gave a small nod before walking away, her composure never slipping.
***
Marissa sat in her car across the street, fingers gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary.
The school gates stood ahead of her, painted in bright cheerful colors.
Mocking.
Children ran around in small clusters, their laughter carrying faintly through the air. Parents stood nearby, chatting, some crouching to fix shoes, wipe faces, adjust tiny backpacks.
Normal.
So painfully normal.
Her eyes searched, restless, desperate, until they found him.
Liam.
Her breath caught.
He stood near the entrance, his small frame swallowed slightly by his uniform, his hair catching the sunlight just like,
Her fingers trembled.
Just like hers.
He laughed at something another child said, the sound distant but enough to hit something deep inside her chest.
Marissa leaned forward slightly, like that would somehow bring her closer.
Four years old.
Four years… and she had missed so much.
First words.
First steps.
First everything.
Her jaw tightened.
No.
She hadn't missed it.
She had left.
The thought burned.
A man walked up to Liam then, tall, familiar.
August.
Marissa's expression hardened instantly.
He crouched slightly, adjusting Liam's bag, saying something that made the boy grin.
So natural.
So easy.
Like he had taken her place without struggle.
Her nails dug into her palm.
"He looks happy," she whispered, though the words tasted bitter.
Too happy.
Without her.
Her gaze lingered, softer now, conflicted.
That was still her son.
Her blood.
Her child.
And yet,
She was sitting across the street like a stranger.
Her throat tightened.
"I can fix this," she murmured under her breath, more to convince herself than anything else.
Her eyes flicked back to August.
Then narrowed.
"No one takes what's mine and keeps it."
She started the engine slowly, her gaze lingering on Liam for one last second.
Then she drove off.