[DANIEL]
Daniel hesitated.
His rage screamed at him to leave, but years of discipline and self-control reminded him of his manners. He sat, but his gaze never wavered, piercing into Lily with cold intensity. He never like her before and he surely loathe her now.
"These papers," he said, gesturing to the scattered documents. "You think I don't already know? I've lived with this truth my whole life. I know what I am—a bastard, born out of sin. But that past doesn't define me. My mother and I left that life behind a long time ago."
His voice faltered slightly, not from weakness but from the weight of those words. His mother, a woman of quiet strength, had raised him alone, refusing to ever rely on the man who had abandoned them. That chapter of his life was closed—or so he had thought.
Lily leaned forward, her smile widening into something predatory. "Oh, Daniel, you don't need to get so worked up. I'm not here to dig up old wounds." Her fingers reached for his hand, but he pulled it back before she could touch him.
"Let me cut to the chase," she continued, undeterred. "You accept me as your girlfriend, and these papers stay buried forever. No one will ever know."
Daniel's chest tightened, his breath catching for a fraction of a second. He stared at the woman before him, a wave of disbelief washing over him. "You're blackmailing me," he said flatly, his tone laced with disgust.
"If that's what it takes," Lily replied, her voice soft yet laced with a fervent desperation. Her eyes burned with an unsettling affection for him. "I'm willing to do anything to have you, Daniel. And if you just give us a try, you won't regret it."
A bitter chuckle escaped his lips as he leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. "You don't get it, do you? You think this will make me love you? All you've done is show me how little respect you have for me—and yourself."
He rose to his feet, the chair scraping against the polished floor. His movements were calm, measured, but his voice carried the weight of finality.
"Expose me," he said with a quiet resolve. "Shout it from the rooftops if you want. It doesn't matter. I'd rather face the world with my truth than spend a single second pretending to love someone like you. What you've done here today only makes me loathe you more."
Lily's composure cracked, her confident facade giving way to a mixture of fury and desperation. She shot to her feet, her voice rising as she called after him.
"Daniel! Don't you dare walk away from me! I'll do it—I'll ruin you! If you won't belong to me then I'll just destroy you!"
But Daniel didn't look back. With steady strides, he walked away, leaving Lily standing there, trembling with rage and disbelief, her threats echoing uselessly in the emptying space.
Daniel stepped out into the cool night air, inhaling deeply as a strange calm settled over him. The truth had never scared him—it was the lies that suffocated him.
And he refused to let anyone, not even Lily, chain him to a life built on deceit. He would never form relationships with someone he didn't like or love.
=== 🤍 ===
[EVE]
With the winter collection deadline looming over us like an unforgiving storm cloud, I barely had time to breathe, let alone sleep. Every waking hour was consumed with sketches, fabrics, and frantic stitching. My poor team was running on coffee, adrenaline, and sheer desperation.
Thankfully, with Cole and Victor's resources, reinforcements had arrived to save us from total collapse. They sent skilled assistants to handle the complicated stitches, and with Michael's nanotech, we finally had a fighting chance.
Now, let me explain—Michael's nanotech wasn't some miracle invention straight out of a sci-fi movie. It wasn't perfect and could only create basic fabric pieces, but even those simple bits were a godsend.
All we had to do was assemble and refine the pieces into cohesive designs, like a high-stakes game of sartorial Tetris.
Surprisingly, Victor had rolled up his sleeves and joined the effort. The man could stitch! Who knew?
"Unlike certain someone," Victor said pointedly, his hands deftly stitching intricate patterns onto a bodice, "I wasn't born with a silver spoon in my mouth. I had to work my way up from the ground."
This was, of course, a jab at Cole, who sat off to the side looking like a smug prince, directing everyone like a maestro conducting an orchestra. Oh, and occasionally fetching food. Yes, our "crown prince" had also taken on the role of delivery boy.
Cole, utterly unfazed, leaned back in his chair and retorted smoothly, "Unlike some people, I know how to delegate tasks and coordinate efficiently. That's why everything is running like clockwork."
He wasn't wrong. As much as I hated to admit it, Cole's organizational skills were a game-changer. He had the entire studio humming with accuracy. Tasks were distributed seamlessly, chaos was minimized, and we were actually making progress.
Meanwhile, I was elbow-deep in fabric, stitching my heart out. I wasn't exactly a sewing prodigy like Hyun, but I could handle the basics, and at this point, every bit helped.
"That stitch is looking . . . unique," Cole said, glancing over my shoulder with a smirk.
"It's called character," I shot back, trying not to stab myself with the needle. "Not everyone can handle my avant-garde approach to stitching."
Victor chuckled. "If by 'avant-garde,' you mean 'barely holding together,' then sure."
I stuck my tongue out at him and returned to my work.
Despite the relentless pace and occasional snarky banter, there was an odd harmony in the studio.
Everyone was pitching in, and there's nothing quite like a looming deadline and a dose of adversity to bring people together.
By the end of the day, as I surveyed the growing pile of finished designs, I felt a flicker of hope. We just might make it in time.