《A Perfect Dress.》


 Chapter ONE(I)

    Disclaimer


    This is a work of fiction. All characters, locations, and events depicted in this book are entirely the product of the author¡¯s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or real-world events is purely coincidental.


    Threads of Destiny.


    Nalani didn¡¯t like the weather¡ªit was too cold. Minus two degrees, they said. Her weather app promised temperatures would rise soon, but she doubted it. Shivering slightly, she tugged at the edges of her oversized caramel-toned trench coat, the soft wool blend adorned with the unmistakable gold monogram of Luca & Verdure, her favorite up-and-coming designer brand.


    Her long curly black hair was tucked away under a minimalist black beanie. She had brown skin and deep brown eyes, standing at 4''9" with a curvy, thick body. Her flat nose and brown lips, dotted with freckles, added to her distinct look. Despite her sharp mind, Nalani often found her body a source of unwanted attention¡ªespecially in West Jasson, and even more so in her field of study. But if you thought Nalani was striking, you should see her sister, Denise.


    Beneath the coat, she wore a sleek, ribbed knit sweater dress in charcoal gray that hugged her curves just enough to make the cold bearable. The Arlen Harper cashmere scarf around her neck¡ªa thoughtful gift from her sister¡ªwas a lifeline against the biting wind.


    In one hand, she held a steaming cup of Java Haven¡¯s caramel latte, the warmth seeping into her black leather gloves lined with faux fur from Maison Viridian. It was her second cup of the day, and the bold ¡°JH¡± logo on the cup had already become a familiar sight around campus.


    Her phone buzzed in her other hand as she scrolled through her ride app, hoping the cab would pull up soon. Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, her Noir & Co. ankle boots crunched softly against the icy pavement.


    The bench behind her looked painfully cold to sit on, its surface crusted in frost like crystals. So, she stood, adjusting her Vero Solace crossbody bag, which dangled casually at her side.


    Nalani caught her reflection in a nearby shop window, tucking an escaped curl back under her beanie. Her eyes flicked down the street. Still no sign of the cab. She sighed, wrapping both hands tightly around her coffee for warmth.


    She couldn¡¯t mess up today. "Only positive vibes," she murmured to herself as she stretched her hands and took deep breaths. I can do this for Mama and Papa, she reminded herself.


    She lifted her phone again, tapping the screen until Face ID unlocked it, revealing the ride app. The driver was a few minutes away but currently stuck in traffic. She wished she could take the train, but it was always packed, especially with the holiday rush.


    She checked the time: 8:15 AM. Not late yet, she thought. Nalani¡¯s mind began to do the math¡ªfifteen minutes for the driver to pick her up, leaving her with Thirty minutes to get to the university. Her meeting was scheduled for 9:00 AM, and she didn¡¯t want to be late.


    With fifteen minutes of nothing but time to think, her mind wandered. It was her third year at the National Fashion & Arts University of Jasson, the best art school in the state. For a Black woman, this was a huge deal, especially as a scholarship student. Her mom worked as a cleaner at South Park Hospital on the edge of town, and her dad, once a migrant worker, had given up trying to find work, settling into a life of quiet resignation as a house dweller. She couldn¡¯t really blame him. How much could a man take before he broke?


    Nalani had promised herself she wasn¡¯t going to end up like her parents. They were sweet people, but she wanted more for herself. Fashion was a way out, even if it wasn¡¯t exactly her strongest suit. She couldn¡¯t thread a needle if her life depended on it. Luckily, she wasn¡¯t striving to become the best garment maker. Instead, she had focused on fashion consultancy and organization. The way she saw it, the job was simple: find a model, find a designer, help the designer create an amazing dress, and have the model wear it. Then, push the designer to sign an exclusive contract with the company you represent to make even more incredible designs. And that was it.


    But she wished it were that simple. There was the hierarchy, a situation where the course required a lot of traveling and talking¡ªthings she already loved. But most of that talking involved dealing with men who made no effort to hide their intentions, men who actively wanted to be between your legs. You had to be smart about it, dodge their advances, and offer them something they couldn¡¯t refuse. The problem was, Nalani was still figuring out what that offer could be.


    She had nothing¡ªno money, no connections, no influence¡ªjust a sharp mind and a heart full of expectations. But that was about to change.


    As the cab rolled in, Nalani checked her phone: 17BB46. She glanced at the plate number and then motioned for the driver to roll down the window.


    ¡°Sebastian Hower?¡± Nalani asked, checking the driver''s face against the picture on her phone.


    ¡°Yeah, and you must be...¡± The driver paused, pulling out his phone to read her name. ¡°Well, that¡¯s a lot of words,¡± he commented.


    ¡°Just call me Nalani,¡± she replied, jumping into the back seat and slurping down the last of her latte. The driver started the car, turned up the heat, and they were off.


    Nalani opened the VibeStream app on her phone to check her posted VibeStories. "11456 views, not bad," she thought to herself as she scrolled through the app¡¯s VibeFeed, liking posts from various fashion houses and silently cussing at the stunning models.


    A new notification popped up. It was from her older sister, Denise.


    I hope you get the job, lil sis! the text read.


    Nalani smiled and quickly typed back: I sure hope so. I¡¯ve got your lucky scarf after all! she added, tossing in a prayer and crying emoji.


    Denise responded with a dancing cat meme.


    Nalani chuckled and lifted her phone to snap a selfie. I have to remember today, she thought. It¡¯s going to determine my future in this industry.


    ******


    About 20 minutes later:


    ¡°We¡¯re here,¡± the driver said with a professional smile as he pulled over to the driveway.


    ¡°PayLynx or FlexPay?¡± Nalani asked as she stepped out of the cab.


    ¡°PayLynx,¡± the driver replied, still smiling.


    ¡°Really? PayLynx?¡± Nalani asked, surprised, as she opened the app to make the transfer.


    ¡°It¡¯s easier to use,¡± he explained as he pulled out his phone to check the transaction.


    ¡°Done,¡± Nalani said as she showed him the screen.


    ¡°Seen. Have a nice day,¡± the driver said with a nod before turning to drive off.


    Nalani watched the car disappear down the street with a sigh. That was Creda (?) 55, gone for a fancy car ride, Nalani. You should¡¯ve just taken the train, she muttered to herself as she climbed the stairs. She still had about five minutes before her interview.


    The busy main entrance hall of the university was eerily empty, which made sense since the school was on holiday. Snow blizzards and the threat of a snowstorm had caused the management to move classes to a later time, when temperatures would rise to something more manageable.


    Nalani walked down the hall, her heels clicking softly against the floor. She was familiar with the layout. Turning left, then another left after a few more steps, she arrived at a row of offices. Taking out her phone, she opened the ProLink app and began scrolling through it.


    Shit, where is it? she muttered to herself, scrolling up and down.


    Ah, found it. She tapped the message and opened it, preparing herself for what was to come.


    Subject: Interview Invitation for Fashion Consultant Position at VeroStyle


    Dear Nalani Amara Colette Pablo,


    We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected for an interview with VeroStyle for the position of Fashion Consultant for the upcoming Summer Fashion Show in Newpark. After reviewing your application and portfolio, we are impressed with your skills and enthusiasm for the fashion industry.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    We would like to invite you to attend an interview for the position at the following details:


    Date: Friday, December 2026


    Time: 9:00 AM


    Location: Venture Office 107, Fashion Department


    Please bring your updated resume, portfolio, and any relevant materials that would showcase your skills. The interview will give us an opportunity to learn more about your background and discuss your potential fit within our team at VeroStyle.


    We look forward to meeting you and discussing the exciting opportunities that await at VeroStyle. Should you have any questions or need to reschedule, please feel free to contact us at:


    Email: [email protected]</a>


    Phone: +133 (555) 123-4567


    Best regards,


    VeroStyle Fashion Team


    Nalani stood in front of Office 107, gazing at the large brown door with a silver plaque boldly etched in black. She arranged her dress one more time, took a deep breath, and hesitated. She wasn¡¯t sure whether to knock, her hand lingering in mid-air as she searched for a doorbell but found none.


    Before she could decide, the door suddenly swung open. Standing in the doorway was one of her professors.


    ¡°Good morning, Mr. Chambers.¡±


    ¡°Get in,¡± the man replied curtly. He was probably in his late 40s, with a receding hairline now peppered with more white than black. His face, wrinkled with signs of aging, gave him a permanent serious expression. Nalani sometimes wondered why he hadn''t retired yet. He wore an ash and black-striped suit, a white shirt, and black pants.


    Nalani knew it was not the time for the obligatory compliment she usually gave him, as he had the serious look he wore when grading a fashion project or assigning one. She squeezed past him and into the room.


    The space was simple¡ªa white room with a large projector screen mounted a few feet high behind her. In front of her was a light brown table with four chairs. Three of them were occupied by people with similar expressions to Mr. Chambers, while the last empty chair was presumably for him.


    ¡°Please take your seat, Miss¡­¡± the man in the middle said, looking down at the paper on his desk. He was rather handsome, almost Terish in appearance. His skin was very light, almost pale, with a full light beard and thick hair. His black eyes, slim nose, and round lips completed his features. He wore a black suit jacket, a brown waistcoat, and a striped blue-and-black tie tucked beneath it. Though she couldn¡¯t see his pants, she was curious.


    Nalani knew exactly what he was doing¡ªhe was trying to read her name. She walked up to the chair in front of her, maintaining a composed, professional look.


    ¡°Please call me Nalani,¡± she said, quickly adding, ¡°Miss Nalani,¡± glaring at Mr. Chambers and then across the room.


    The other two participants were women. One looked too young to be there. She had deep blue cat eyes, which Nalani suspected were fake, a slim nose, and large pink lips. She wore a black turban to match her gown, which had butterfly-wing sleeve design stretching from her shoulder down covering her fingers. Her accessories included silver earrings and necklaces. The other woman appeared older, with a cold, modern expression on her face. She had brown eyes, a large pointed nose, and almost invisible lips. She wore white sleeves and a red scarf tied around her neck. Nalani couldn¡¯t help but wonder if she was the only one freezing in the room.


    The man in the middle cleared his throat, shifting his papers.


    ¡°So, Miss Nalani, we have reviewed your application, and... ehm..." He cleared his throat again. "We may have sent the acceptance email to the wrong applicant."


    Nalani blinked a few times, staring at him in disbelief.


    ¡°What? Excuse me?¡± she asked, her voice a mix of confusion and disbelief.


    ¡°You see, we were supposed to send the application to Nalia Amira Colette Padr¨®n,¡± the man said, turning to the younger woman, Mrs. Courtney. ¡°But she mistakenly sent it to you, Nalani Amara Colette Pablo, and failed to properly redirect it. We only realized the error a couple of minutes before you arrived. We were going to call and ask you to stand back, but the professor convinced us to at least hear you out and see you in person before finalizing our decision.¡±


    Nalani''s world seemed to crumble. She had prepared for this interview with the confidence of being selected for her skills, but here she was, being called a mistake and riding on the professor''s goodwill. But she wasn¡¯t going to give up. If this was nature¡¯s way of flipping her the middle finger, then she would make the most of it.


    She cleared her throat, stood tall, removed her bag, and took out her smart drive with a determined look.


    The room fell silent as the interviewers stared at her, their expressions already assuming she would fail. They probably expected her to flinch, to give in, and let the moment slip by. They were probably thinking, Just get on with it so we can say no and get to our holiday. But Nalani had a card up her sleeve¡ªshe knew they were underestimating her, and even the professor was aware of it. He nodded slightly as she plugged her smart drive into the projector.


    Nalani stood tall, her heart racing. As the projector came to life, the vibrant colors of her presentation lit up the room. She could feel the eyes of the interviewers on her, waiting for her to falter. But she didn¡¯t. With a steady breath, she began, her voice cutting through the tension in the room with an authority that was both confident and unshakable.


    ¡°Sirs and ma¡¯am, I stand before you not only as a student but as someone who understands the power of vision and collaboration in fashion. The task at hand is simple: find an unknown designer to collaborate with the supermodel Arielle Kate for the Newpark Summer Fit Walks runway show. But fashion is not just about following a brief. It¡¯s about pushing boundaries and creating something that leaves a lasting mark."


    As Nalani clicked through the slides, mood boards filled the screen. Bold patterns, unique textures, and futuristic designs danced across the screen. The images of runway shows showcased models walking in dynamic, unconventional fashion¡ªeach look more captivating than the last.


    Nalani¡¯s confidence grew with each passing moment. She clicked to the next slide, her voice more assured.


    ¡°Instead of seeking the most well-known designer for collaboration, I decided to take a different approach. What the Newpark Summer Fit Walks runway needs is something fresh, something innovative. We need to discover a designer who is still unknown but whose creativity rivals the greatest names in fashion. I¡¯m talking about designers with raw, untapped talent¡ªones who will disrupt the scene.¡±


    The next slide appeared, showcasing a powerful image: Arielle Kate, the world¡¯s most sought-after supermodel, her long blonde hair flowing and her sparkling skin glowing as she wore a silk white gown that seemed to shimmer. The text read: Arielle Kate¡ªcurrently refusing all collaborations. It was a bold revelation, a key moment in Nalani¡¯s presentation that illustrated the magnitude of the challenge.


    Nalani continued, her voice steady with determination.


    ¡°And here, ladies and gentlemen, is where the real opportunity lies. Arielle Kate, the biggest name in fashion, has refused all collaborations due to a major crisis that¡¯s left the fashion world in shock. This is our moment to prove that we don¡¯t need to follow trends¡ªwe need to set them. The key to success lies in finding a designer who won¡¯t just fit Kate¡¯s style, but one who will push her to new heights¡ªsomeone whose work will inspire her to return to the runway with a bold, unforgettable statement.¡±


    She clicked to the next slide, which displayed a concept for the runway show: a seamless blend of both classic and futuristic fashion. The designs would complement Kate¡¯s elegance but also challenge her to embrace daring, unconventional choices. The goal was not just to dress her, but to make the designer¡¯s creations resonate with the audience on a deeper level¡ªan emotional connection that would captivate everyone.


    ¡°Our goal isn¡¯t simply to have Kate walk the runway wearing clothes. Our goal is to craft a narrative¡ªa story that unfolds with every step she takes. The clothing will be an extension of Kate¡¯s journey. We need a designer who can build on that vision¡ªsomeone capable of turning a crisis into a new beginning for Kate, and for the entire fashion industry.¡±


    Nalani paused for a moment, her gaze sweeping across the panel of interviewers. She could feel the weight of their scrutiny, but she didn''t falter. She clicked to the next slide, which revealed a breathtaking vision of the runway¡ªan expansive catwalk, flanked by bold, dynamic lighting, setting the stage for the unexpected. The runway itself looked like a living entity, alive with potential, ready to break free from the mundane constraints of tradition. The designs were not just clothing; they were a movement, an evolution. They would not only speak to Kate¡¯s legacy but to a new era of fashion.


    She turned to face the panel, locking eyes with each of them. Her heart raced, but her voice remained steady, commanding, filled with conviction.


    "Fashion is not just about trends. It¡¯s about moments¡ªmoments that shape culture, and moments that define history. This collaboration, once we find the right designer, will not just be a show¡ªit will be the future of fashion. And I am confident that with the right talent, we will make that future a reality."


    A final slide filled the screen¡ªan intricate collage showcasing Kate¡¯s potential transformation. The model, small projects she had pieced together, and the Newpark Fit Walks, all fused together into an unforgettable vision of fashion and technology. Nalani could feel the energy building, and she smiled softly as she clicked through the final slides.


    "In fashion, it''s not enough to just create; you must innovate. You must make people feel something. With this collaboration, this novice designer and Arielle Kate will push the limits of what¡¯s possible. And the Newpark Summer Fit Walks will not just showcase fashion but will transform the entire experience for everyone who sees it."


    She paused, allowing the silence to settle in before turning to face the panel of interviewers. With a final, soft smile, she added, "So, I ask you: why settle for ordinary when we can create something extraordinary? This is the future of fashion. And I¡¯m ready to lead it."


    For a brief moment, the room was silent. No one moved, no one spoke. Everyone was waiting for someone else to break the silence. Nalani¡¯s heart pounded in her chest, but she kept her composure, standing tall. Then, the unexpected happened.


    A loud clap echoed through the room. It was the professor. He smiled widely, his eyes shining with approval. He knew the difficulty of her vision, the effort it would take. But if she could pull it off, if she could make this happen, she could write her own legacy in the fashion world.


    ¡°That was¡­unexpected,¡± the man said. Nalani could¡¯ve sworn she saw the briefest flicker of a smile on his face before it disappeared, replaced by his usual business-like expression. He cleared his throat.


    ¡°So, if we do select you for the contract, how soon could you get Kate on board and secure the right designer?¡± he asked, his voice steady but curious.


    Nalani took a deep breath. "With the proper funding, I could¡ª"


    ¡°Funding?¡± The older woman snarled at the word, as if it were an insult.


    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am. Funding," Nalani replied, her tone firm but respectful. "I would need resources to find the right designer. He could be anywhere in the world, but it requires investment."


    The older woman scoffed. "How is that our problem?"


    Nalani¡¯s mouth opened to respond, but she hesitated. She hadn¡¯t anticipated this. It was her idea, her vision, but she didn¡¯t know the intricacies of the funding or the protocols behind it. She turned toward the professor for guidance, but he merely nodded at her, silently urging her to continue.


    Her shoulders slumped slightly as the weight of reality hit her. She had no answers to this. These people never really wanted her here, she thought. This was the end.


    Nalani turned to collect her smart drive when the man spoke again, his voice softer but still assertive.


    ¡°Perhaps we could work out something,¡± he said, leaning forward.


    Nalani turned toward him, her curiosity piqued.


    ¡°How about this,¡± he continued, ¡°If we could get a progress report of your Arielle Kate convincing campaign, we¡¯ll give you 40% upfront funding.¡±


    ¡°40% won¡¯t cut it,¡± Nalani replied, her voice steady but firm. ¡°I would need at least 55% to get started.¡±


    She knew this was a gamble, but she had to make it. This was her chance to turn things around, to make an offer they couldn¡¯t refuse.


    The room fell silent for a moment. Nalani could feel the weight of their gazes, but she pressed on.


    ¡°If I get a 30% startup, I could not only double the company¡¯s market sales to 200%, but I could secure an exclusive handoff deal with the designer for whatever Kate would wear.¡±


    As soon as the words left her mouth, Nalani regretted them. She had set herself up for failure. She had painted herself into a corner, promising the impossible. Doubling the company¡¯s sales? Making an unknown designer sign away their rights to their designs in exchange for a single shot of fame? It was unrealistic. No designer in their right mind would agree to such a deal.


    The man stared at her for several long seconds. His face was unreadable. Then, finally, he spoke.


    ¡°Can you do it?¡± he asked, his voice calm but probing.


    Nalani swallowed hard. She hesitated, but then nodded. ¡°Yes. Yes, I can,¡± she replied, her voice shaky but resolute.


    If only a fool would agree to such terms, then Nalani would have to find a smart fool¡ªsomeone who was skilled at designing but perhaps not so sharp in other areas. She had to find someone willing to take the risk and make this vision a reality, no matter how impossible it seemed.


    "Then I guess we¡¯ll be excited to have you on board," the man said, standing up and extending his hand to shake hers.


    Nalani took his hand, smiling as she shook it. "It will be my pleasure working with you," she replied, her voice steady but her heart still racing with the excitement of the moment.


    "Oh, my name¡¯s Adam," the man added with a friendly pat on her shoulder. "You can just call me that."


    "The contract will be sent to you through the professor," he continued, his tone businesslike once again. "And I advise you to read it thoroughly."


    Nalani nodded, her mind already racing with the possibilities.


    "I wish you luck," Adam said, turning to walk away. "But now, I have to excuse myself¡ªthose wines aren¡¯t going to drink themselves." He added, drawing a small laugh from the room as Nalani stepped back, observing him.


    She couldn¡¯t help but notice how tall he was¡ªalmost six feet¡ªand the warmth in his smile now, much softer than when they first met. It was strange to see a shift in his demeanor, but she appreciated the gesture.


    Adam turned, gathering his things¡ªa bag, his phone, and an empty paper cup of coffee which he shook if there was any content left¡ªand both women followed him out of the room, exchanging small talk. The atmosphere lightened, but Nalani stayed behind, alone with the professor.


    The professor smiled at her, giving her a gentle tap on the shoulder.


    "I knew you could do it," he said, his voice filled with pride.


    As he turned to leave the room, he gave her one last piece of advice. "Clean up and go home. You¡¯ll need all the rest you can get," he said, the door closing behind him.


    With the professor¡¯s words echoing in her ears, Nalani stood in the now-quiet room, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders.


    For the first time, things were really starting to go her way. She had done it. And no matter how challenging the road ahead might be, she was ready to face it¡­head-on.

 Chapter TWO(II)

    Masks and Contracts.


    Disclaimer


    This is a work of fiction. All characters, locations, and events depicted in this book are entirely the product of the author''s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or real-world events is purely coincidental.


    "Ahhh!" Denise squealed, her voice ringing with unrestrained excitement as she pulled Nalani into a fierce hug. "I''m so happy for you!" she exclaimed, her joy bubbling over as she tightened her arms around her sister like she''d never let go.


    Nalani felt the warmth of her sister''s embrace and couldn''t hold back her own excitement. She hugged Denise back just as tightly, her heart racing with a mixture of pride and disbelief.


    "Have you told Mom yet?" Denise asked, finally pulling back to look Nalani in the eye, her soft blue gaze filled with curiosity and delight.


    "Not yet," Nalani admitted, her voice softening. "She doesn''t get off work until 6:30 PM, and I don''t want to disturb her. Besides¡­" She hesitated, her voice faltering. "I have so much to figure out. It''s all happening so fast."


    Denise placed her hands firmly on Nalani''s shoulders, shaking her gently but purposefully. "You know what you need right now?"


    Nalani tilted her head, curiosity flickering in her eyes. "What?"


    "Lunch. And it''s on me," Denise declared, her tone leaving no room for argument. She spun Nalani around and gave her a playful push toward the stairs. "Go change! I''ll book us a ride."


    Nalani glanced over her shoulder as she ascended the stairs, her heart swelling with gratitude. She couldn''t help but marvel at her older sister. Denise stood near the doorway, her phone in hand, radiating confidence. Her short, neatly trimmed white-dyed hair framed her face perfectly, and her warm brown skin glowed under the soft light. Her slim nose and striking blue eyes gave her a sharp, yet inviting look.


    Denise felt Nalani''s gaze and looked up, flashing her a mischievous smile. "Go!" she mouthed, pointing exaggeratedly toward the upper floor.


    Nalani laughed, the sound light and carefree, as she hurried to her room to change.


    Twenty minutes later.


    the sisters were cruising through the city in a sleek Honda SUV. The rhythmic hum of traffic blended with the upbeat music blaring from the car speakers. They danced in their seats, laughing between bites of chocolate they''d grabbed from the backseat stash.


    "Hot Johns!" the driver announced as he pulled into the parking lot of the popular fast-food restaurant.


    Denise pulled out her phone to settle the fare, while Nalani slid out of the car and stretched her legs.


    "How much was it?" Nalani asked curiously as Denise joined her.


    "(?)75.32" Denise replied, grinning. "But he said I could pay half if I gave him my number."


    "And¡­?" Nalani prompted, raising a skeptical brow.


    "Let''s just say I''m (?)75.32 short of cash right now," Denise said, bursting into laughter.


    Nalani groaned, grabbing her sister''s arm as they walked toward the entrance. She often wondered how Denise managed to handle the constant attention she attracted so effortlessly. Nalani herself dealt with her fair share of stares but usually warded them off with a scowl big enough to scare anyone away.


    ******


    Inside, the warm aroma of fried chicken and spices greeted them as Denise approached the counter.


    "I''ll take one Super Twelve-piece Hot Chicken, a dipping sauce, and Bubble Spice," Denise rattled off confidently, her usual go-to order.


    Nalani, lost in thought, barely noticed.


    "What about you?" Denise asked, snapping her fingers in front of Nalani''s face.


    "Anything is fine, really," Nalani said absentmindedly, waving her hand.


    Denise rolled her eyes dramatically and turned to the waiter. "She''ll have the same as me."


    Grabbing Nalani''s arm, Denise led her to an empty booth. As they sat, Nalani found herself admiring her sister''s boldness. While Nalani preferred loose clothes to keep her curvy figure under wraps, Denise reveled in her confidence. Today, she wore a pink cap with "Bossy" emblazoned on it, paired with a lime green two-piece hoodie and track pants, finished off with Crocs. Denise''s outfit, by contrast, was sleek and commanding¡ªa cropped black top under a fitted zipper jacket, body-hugging pants, and boots that clicked with authority.


    Denise caught Nalani staring and smirked. Fix your face! You look like you''re about to rob the place, she teased via text.


    Nalani chuckled, texting back, I might just.


    Sliding a tablet and a stack of papers onto the table, Nalani began organizing her designs for the Newpark Summer Fit Walks. Her screen displayed to-do lists and planning strategies she had been refining tirelessly.


    "Really? Right now?" Denise asked, raising a brow.


    "The earlier, the better," Nalani replied, flipping through the sketches.


    Before Nalani could react, Denise reached over and snatched the papers and tablet, tucking them out of reach.


    "What are you doing?" Nalani asked, half-annoyed, half-amused.


    "You need a break," Denise declared, folding her arms. "And I mean it. Take a breath, eat, and let your brain rest for five minutes."


    Nalani sighed but couldn''t help the small smile tugging at her lips. Denise had always known when to push her, and right now, a part of her knew her sister was right.


    "Listen," Denise began, her tone equal parts exasperated and teasing as she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "I know how eager you are to work and grind, but seriously, when was the last time you did something¡­ you know, outside? Something not related to school or work?"


    Nalani sighed, running her fingers along the rim of her cup. "I don''t have time for that."


    Denise rolled her eyes dramatically, a signature move that could rival any actress. "You''re going to grow old and alone, mark my words. As your older sister, I can''t just sit back and watch you wither into misery. So¡­" She clapped her hands decisively. "I''m putting you on game. Pick a dude."


    "What?!" Nalani''s voice came out louder than she intended, her face heating up as a few heads turned. "Hell no!" she hissed, lowering her voice.


    "Come on, just pick one!" Denise urged, her grin widening as she leaned back in her chair, clearly enjoying her sister''s mortification.


    "I¡­ I need to use the bathroom," Nalani mumbled, standing abruptly, her only escape route from the relentless teasing.


    But in her haste to leave, she collided with someone heading in her direction. The impact sent a scalding heat across her chest as the boy''s drink spilled over her. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    For a moment, everything seemed to freeze. Nalani''s brain struggled to process the pain that followed, a sharp, burning sensation spreading over her skin. She stumbled back, clutching her chest.


    "Oh my God, ouch!" she cried out, tears stinging her eyes.


    Denise was already on her feet, frantically pressing a wad of kitchen towels against Nalani''s chest. "I''m trying, I''m trying! Your huge melons are in the way!"


    Nalani winced but couldn''t help a small laugh bubbling through her pain. It was short-lived as her focus shifted to the boy standing a few feet away. He looked at her with a blank expression, his dark eyes unreadable.


    "You still owe me a new Chocolate Volcano," he said flatly, his voice devoid of apology.


    "What? Are you serious?!" Denise snapped, her tone protective and fierce. "You nearly burned her, and you''re worried about your stupid drink?"


    The boy shrugged, shifting his skateboard to his other hand. "She bumped into me," he said nonchalantly. "And I really needed that drink."


    Nalani''s gaze flickered over him. He wore a black leather jacket that seemed to glisten faintly under the restaurant''s lights, paired with matching pants and dress shoes. A crossbody bag hung over his shoulder, and his curly black hair almost covered his face. There was something disheveled yet deliberate about his look, an odd mix of effort and indifference.


    "I''m¡­ I''m so sorry," Nalani stammered, stepping forward before Denise could escalate the situation further. She fished her phone from the table. "I can transfer you the money. FlexPay, right?"


    The boy groaned, adjusting his beanie as if the entire exchange was exhausting. "Don''t bother," he muttered, brushing past them. "Not like you could afford it anyway."


    Before Denise could respond, he was already heading toward the door, where a group of boys waited.


    "What''s up, dude?" one of them called out loudly.


    "Nothing serious," the boy replied, glancing back at Nalani briefly before one of his friends threw an arm over his shoulder and ruffled his hair.


    "You got a crush on her or something?" the friend teased, his voice carrying easily over the chatter.


    "What? Ew, no," the boy shot back, his tone defensive as he walked out.


    Denise stood frozen, her jaw tightening as she watched them leave. "He did not just say that," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "That piece of¡ª"


    "Let it go, Dee," Nalani interrupted softly, tugging her sister back toward their table.


    ******


    On the ride, Nalani looked out the window, her mind spinning. She wasn''t mad at the boy, oddly enough. No, she was mad at herself. She hated how her thoughts kept circling back to him¡ªthe detached expression in his eyes, the way he''d brushed past her without a second thought. Why couldn''t she just let it go?


    Denise, on the other hand, was still fuming. "I''m telling you, sis. Next time I see that guy, it''s on sight!"


    "Dee, it''s fine. I''m trying to focus," Nalani said, her voice carrying a note of exhaustion.


    "Focus on what?" Denise leaned over, peering at Nalani''s phone. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of an open chat window. "Wait. Is that¡­ Arielle Kate? The supermodel?!"


    Nalani groaned, trying to pull her phone away, but Denise was too quick.


    "Oh my gosh!" Denise practically squealed. "You''re working with Arielle Kate?! That''s insane! I saw her walk in the Sun Show last Year. She''s stunning."


    "I haven''t worked with her yet," Nalani corrected, her tone resigned.


    "What does that mean?" Denise asked, her excitement dimming slightly.


    "It means," Nalani began, "I still have to convince her to collaborate with me for the Newpark Summer Fit Walks. And right now, I have no idea what to say to her."


    Denise''s face lit up with a mischievous grin. "Oh, I can help with that." Before Nalani could react, Denise snatched the phone and began typing furiously.


    "Dee, wait¡ª"


    Nalani''s protest was cut off by the soft ping of a sent message. Wrestling her phone back, Nalani stared at the screen in horror.


    The message read: Hi, my name is Nalani, and I''d love to work with you for the Newpark Summer Fit Walks! I have some really cool designs and would love for you to see them and decide if you''re interested.


    Denise grinned triumphantly. "See? Problem solved."


    Nalani groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Dee¡­ you''re unbelievable."


    Nalani wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole. If jumping out of the moving car was an option, she might have considered it. Instead, she sat frozen, staring at Denise, whose grin stretched ear to ear.


    "What? Trust me, she''ll reply. Positive vibes only!" Denise chirped, wiggling her fingers in front of Nalani''s face, showing off her freshly manicured nails.


    Nalani''s gaze shifted, catching the shimmer of a ring on Denise''s hand. "Oh my gosh, is that¡­ Jackie Rose?"


    Denise''s smile grew wider. "Yup. Tommy got it for me! Oh, and he''s coming over for New Year''s."


    "Wait, what?! Tommy''s coming over? Why am I just finding out about this now?" Nalani''s voice pitched higher, half-annoyed and half-surprised.


    Denise waved her hand dismissively. "It was supposed to be a surprise, but I kinda let it slip¡­ so, surprise!" She grinned, completely unbothered.


    Tommy was Denise''s boyfriend-turned-fianc¨¦. He worked as an engineer in Basco, a state far from Jasson. It had been a while since Nalani last saw him, but she remembered him fondly. He was the only guy aside from their dad that Nalani felt any connection to. Tommy was tall, blond, and light-skinned, with a neatly groomed appearance that often made him look like he was heading to either the office or a golf course¡ªno in-betweens.


    The ring on Denise''s finger was a proposal ring. She''d originally received a simpler one months ago, but it hadn''t fit quite right, so Tommy had taken her shopping and opted for the dazzling Jackie Rose instead. Denise flaunted it again, the diamond catching the light as a notification buzzed on her phone, drawing her attention.


    Nalani couldn''t help but think about how sweet their relationship was. Denise''s carefree, outspoken, and playful nature was such a stark contrast to Tommy''s calculated, calm, and quiet demeanor. Yet, they fit together perfectly. The thought made her heart ache a little, knowing that once they were married, Denise would likely move to Basco.


    "So¡­ when''s the wedding?" Nalani asked, trying to sound casual.


    "Tommy wants to wait until his mom gets back from the West before we set a date," Denise replied, scrolling through a video of a cat chasing its tail.


    "Oh, cool." Nalani nodded, her attention shifting back to her phone. Her eyes lingered on the message Denise had sent earlier. Everything was riding on Kate''s reply now. Though Nalani wasn''t particularly religious, she found herself silently praying that things would work out. She really needed this win.


    ******


    The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the city. Despite the cold, Kate stuck to her workout schedule. She wore a cropped purple hoodie from Luca & Verdure, its fabric riding up just enough to reveal her toned, sun-kissed stomach. It was one of the many samples she received from brands¡ªboth small startups and big names¡ªvying for her attention and a potential collaboration. She paired it with black leggings tucked into crisp Raymonds socks and finished the look with a pair of sleek Panda Rocks sneakers.


    Through the transparent glass doors of the gym, Kate spotted her manager waving at her. He held a file in one hand and wore his usual businesslike expression. Bald, 5''7", and sporting a neatly trimmed beard, Jerry was a constant in Kate''s life¡ªthe one person who could put up with her antics.


    Kate sighed, tapping the treadmill''s controls to slow it down. She let the machine carry her backward before hopping off and pulling out her earbuds. Pushing the door open, she greeted him.


    "Good morning, James. How long have you been standing there?"


    "Good morning, Katey." His attempt at a smile didn''t quite reach his eyes. "A few minutes. I called out, but you were in the zone."


    "Ha-ha, very funny." Her tone was flat as she crossed her arms. "So, what''s in the file?"


    "Nothing serious. Just work stuff."


    Kate raised an eyebrow. "Work stuff? You work for me, so it''s my stuff."


    James rolled his eyes but didn''t take the bait. "Sure, if you want to call it that. It''s more about managing contracts we haven''t burned and restoring your public image."


    Kate''s lips thinned. "Not interested."


    "Well, I am," James shot back. "That''s my job. Have you checked Vibestream lately? They''re roasting you. Sponsors are pulling out left and right. Whatever you''re dealing with, you need to deal with it fast. If not, kiss your career goodbye."


    Before she could respond, James''s phone buzzed. He answered the call and walked away, leaving Kate to stew in his words.


    Turning to the window, Kate stared at her reflection, her chest rising and falling as her breathing grew uneven. Her hands trembled slightly. How was she supposed to get back out there? Not after what had happened. The cameras, the scrutiny, the endless opinions¡ªit felt like too much. Maybe things were better this way.


    "Yo, Katey¡ª"


    She turned sharply, her voice biting. "Don''t call me that."


    "I''m sorry, Katey, sweetheart, but how about a drink? Maybe coffee? We could talk about this there," Jerry said, tapping the file in his hand, a warm smile on his face.


    Kate knew he wasn''t going to leave her alone¡ªhe never did. He wasn''t giving her much of a choice, either. With a sigh, she turned to grab her phone. "I need a shower," she muttered, brushing past him.


    "You have five minutes. I know exactly how long you take," James called after her, watching as she jogged up the stairs.


    He sighed, his smile fading. He wasn''t sure if she''d ever be able to overcome it. Whatever "it" was, it had a firm grip on her, and Jerry hated seeing her like this. The best he could do was support her and hope she found her way out.


    "You''d better hurry, Kate, or we''re going to lose everything," he muttered to himself, turning to the glass wall that overlooked the bustling traffic below. "Man, I love glass walls," he added as an afterthought, his attempt to lighten the heavy moment.


    Kate, of course, took more than five minutes, but James didn''t complain. Getting her to even agree to talk about the contract was a miracle in itself, and anything beyond that would be pure luck.


    When she came down, she wore black cargo pants slung low enough to reveal the waistband of her Tommy Harper underwear, its white lettering standing out against her skin. Her black strapless crop top didn''t help conceal it, but the oversized bomber jacket she wore made an effort. A beanie covered her head, and a pair of Tommy Harper glasses sat perched on her nose.


    James couldn''t help but admire her. If she tried, she could stop traffic¡ªshe had the kind of figure people described as perfect, though he''d never say it out loud. Being by her side and helping her through her chaos was enough for him.


    "What?" Kate asked, catching him staring.


    "You look amazing," he said, trying to hide his awkwardness.


    "I know. It''s literally my job," she replied, brushing past him as he opened the door to her customized black Panther Survivor SUV. She hopped into the passenger seat, and Jerry followed.


    "So, where are we headed?" she asked, scrolling through her socials.


    "Someplace with good coffee," James replied, knowing the conversation was over.


    Kate slipped in her earbuds, blasting Sweet Martha at full volume. The music drowned out the world, and her thoughts wandered. She liked the artist''s work¡ªmaybe she''d visit him someday. As the exhaustion from her earlier workout settled in, her eyelids grew heavy, and she drifted into a light sleep.


    ******


    "Katey," Jerry''s voice broke through her slumber, accompanied by a soft tap on her arm.


    She groaned, pulling the blanket off as she looked out the tinted window. They were in the heart of the city. The streets were alive with people and movement.


    "Really? The middle of town?" she asked, her tone flat.


    "When was the last time you were here?" James countered, grinning.


    "I don''t know¡­ since half the world knows my face?"


    James held up a black face mask that could double as a beanie. "That''s why I brought this."


    She sighed, pulling off her old beanie and sliding the mask over her head. It fit snugly, concealing her features.


    James stepped out first, exchanging a few words with security before tapping on her window. She opened the door, taking his outstretched hand and hopping down. He led her into a cozy caf¨¦, his eyes scanning the surroundings.


    They settled at a corner table with two steaming cups of coffee. Jerry slid the file across to her, opening it to reveal the details.


    "What''s this? A¡­ tubey?" Kate asked, squinting at the logo.


    "It''s a rubber company," James explained, his voice faltering at the last word.


    "A rubber company? Like condoms?"


    "No! Well¡­ sort of. They make all kinds of rubber products, not just that."


    "So, let me get this straight. You want me to sign a two-year deal with a condom company?"


    "Could you not make it sound worse?"


    "What do you want me to say, James? Jeez."


    James sighed. "Listen, Katey, I know you''re frustrated¡ª"


    "Frustrated? James, I''m furious. This is the best we could get?"


    "That''s the problem, Katey. It''s not the best¡ªit''s the only company willing to work with us without demanding more from you."


    "More from me?"


    "You know what I mean," James said quietly. "I vetted the company; it''s legit. It''s easy work. A few pictures, some videos, a couple of posts on Vibestream, and you''re done. But if we don''t act soon, we''re out of options."


    Kate''s face remained expressionless. She stirred her coffee, lifting it to her lips for a sip.


    "A year ago, companies were lining up to work with us. Now? Stepping back from the cameras is killing us. If we wait any longer, it''s all over. I love my job, Katey. My baby girl just got into college, and¡­" His voice trailed off.


    Kate softened slightly. "Really? That''s sweet. What''s she studying?"


    "Biology. You know, smart-people stuff."


    "She must''ve gotten that from her mom," Kate teased, her lips curling into a faint smirk.


    Jerry didn''t respond, but he was relieved to see her easing up.


    "So¡­ the contract?" he asked after a moment of silence.


    "I''ll take it, but I''m not doing the condom ads."


    "Done. I''ll talk to their team and get you started."


    Kate nodded and waved down a waitress. "Can I get another coffee? And some chocolate breadsticks, too?"


    The waitress nodded and left.


    Kate stared out the caf¨¦''s glass door, watching people pass by. She wondered if anyone wished they were her. Sometimes, she wished she were them¡ªliving a simple, quiet life free of all this chaos.

 Chapter THREE(III)

    The Boy in the Spotlight.


    Disclaimer


    This is a work of fiction. All characters, locations, and events depicted in this book are entirely the product of the author¡¯s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or real-world events is purely coincidental.


    Nalani lay sprawled across her bed, her phone held loosely in her hand. She wore a cropped white T-shirt with the words ¡°Eat Me¡± boldly printed at the front and low-cut bum shorts that had the same words stitched cheekily on the back. Her curvy figure filled the outfit effortlessly, but her mind was elsewhere. She kept staring at her phone, re-reading the open DM, hoping¡ªpraying¡ªthat something might change. It didn¡¯t. The single blue tick taunted her, each passing second deepening her frustration.


    As her thumb hovered over the screen, contemplating a desperate second message, her phone vibrated. The sudden call startled her, and she fumbled, accidentally smacking it against her face. "Ouch!" she yelped, rolling over and groaning as she rubbed her forehead.


    She glanced at the caller ID: Professor Hothead. It was her nickname for her professor, a man who managed to be both infuriatingly strict and surprisingly supportive. Clearing her throat, she answered with as much composure as she could muster.


    ¡°Hello, good morning, Professor,¡± she said, her tone calm and collected.


    ¡°Good morning, Nalani,¡± he replied in his usual clipped tone. ¡°I was just calling to see if you¡¯d be interested in attending a fashion show this weekend.¡±


    ¡°A fashion show?¡± Nalani asked, sitting up straighter. Her heart skipped. That was exactly what she needed¡ªsomething to distract her and reignite her creative spark. ¡°Yes, I¡¯d love to!¡± she replied eagerly.


    ¡°Great. I¡¯ll send you the ticket shortly. If you¡¯d prefer, I can arrange for someone to pick you up.¡±


    ¡°No need for that, sir. I can manage on my own. You¡¯ve already done so much,¡± she said with genuine gratitude.


    ¡°Alright then. Have a good day.¡± The call ended with a soft click, and moments later, her phone buzzed again. Nalani swiped to reveal a sleek, digital ticket emblazoned with the words Os¡¯Lisa Annual Fashion Show.


    ¡°What?!¡± she screamed, her excitement echoing off the walls.


    Within seconds, Denise burst into her room, looking ready for a crisis. ¡°What happened? Is everything okay?¡± Her older sister¡¯s urgency would¡¯ve been touching if it wasn¡¯t so funny.


    She wore a crisp white blouse with neatly rolled-up sleeves, paired with light brown work pants that fit her figure perfectly. Her polished loafers added a subtle professional touch. In her hand, she held a scarf with a vintage design¡ªblue, green, and silver hues dancing across the fabric. With focused precision, she worked on tying it into a stylish knot, her movements exuding effortless sophistication.


    Nalani grinned. ¡°I¡¯m going to Os¡¯Lisa.¡±


    Denise frowned, clearly unimpressed. ¡°What¡¯s an Os¡¯Lisa?¡±


    Nalani gasped theatrically. ¡°Do you live under a rock? It¡¯s only the biggest end-of-year fashion show in the world!¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Denise shrugged, visibly relieved that there wasn¡¯t a fire or some other emergency. ¡°That¡¯s cool, but next time, try not to scream like a banshee. Anyway, Mom made breakfast¡ªham sandwiches and milkshakes. I¡¯m heading out, so check on Dad before you leave.¡± With that, she disappeared as swiftly as she¡¯d arrived.


    Nalani flopped back onto her bed, staring at the ticket. Her initial excitement quickly morphed into panic. ¡°I don¡¯t have a dress,¡± she muttered, bolting upright. She yanked open her wardrobe doors and began rifling through her clothes. Her frustration mounted with every outfit she rejected. ¡°Shit,¡± she cursed under her breath.


    Grabbing her phone, she opened her banking app. A quick calculation confirmed what she feared¡ªno luxury spending this month. With a resigned sigh, she tossed on a baggy black T-shirt, gray sweatpants, and Crocs before heading out the door.


    ¡°Bye, Dad!¡± she called out, pecking his cheek as he sat watching baseball. ¡°Don¡¯t forget your breakfast!¡± And with that, she dashed down the street, her heart set on her destination.


    Second Choices¡ªa thrift store she frequented religiously¡ªcame into view. The name was scrawled in bold, vintage lettering above the entrance. She pushed through the doors, greeted by racks upon racks of secondhand treasures. For someone like Nalani, who couldn¡¯t afford luxury firsthand, this was her haven. With her sharp eye and natural fashion sense, she could spot diamonds in the rough, turning forgotten garments into statements.


    ¡°Welcome to Second¡ªoh, hey, Nala!¡± Jules, the cashier, called out with a grin. Jules was a classic goth, complete with messy black hair streaked with red, sea-green eyes, and a pink-and-black striped long-sleeve tee.


    ¡°Hey, Jules. Is Bassy around?¡± Nalani asked, scanning the store.


    ¡°Nah, he stepped out to cash a check,¡± Jules replied, popping her gum. ¡°What are you looking for today?¡±


    ¡°A gown,¡± Nalani said, her voice tinged with urgency.


    Jules raised an eyebrow. ¡°A gown? What¡¯s the occasion? Are you marrying a prince or something?¡±


    Nalani chuckled. ¡°No, I¡¯m going to Os¡¯Lisa.¡±


    Jules¡¯s jaw dropped. ¡°Shut up. The Os¡¯Lisa? That¡¯s like¡­ the Oscars of fashion! Take me with you!¡±


    Nalani laughed, shaking her head.


    "I don¡¯t know, Jules, help me find a dress first." Nalani said, her eyes trailing over Jules¡¯ outfit.


    Jules stood confidently behind the counter, her usual chaotic goth vibe radiating in full force. Her baggy black jeans were adorned with silver chains that jingled slightly when she moved, and her chunky, high-platform boots looked like they belonged to a rock concert rather than a thrift store.


    ¡°What?¡± Jules asked, frowning.


    Nalani tilted her head. ¡°I¡¯m just saying, those jeans look like they were stolen from a military warehouse.¡±


    Jules groaned and held up her middle finger. ¡°Are we getting you a dress or not?¡±


    ¡°Fine, fine. But no gown, no Os¡¯Lisa,¡± Nalani teased, setting her condition.


    Jules sighed dramatically, throwing her arms in the air as she walked out from behind the counter. ¡°If I have to dig through another pile of lace and sequins for you, I¡¯m charging extra for emotional labor.¡±


    Nalani laughed, watching her friend stomp toward the clothing racks. Jules might have had a sharp tongue, but she always came through. ¡°Let¡¯s just hope we find something decent,¡± Nalani replied, following her to the section packed with dresses of every shape and size.


    ******


    Meanwhile, at Nalia''s Estate.


    Nalia sat stiffly in her luxurious armchair, glaring at the image of her nemesis on her phone screen. The girl in the photo didn¡¯t look like much. What did the company see in her? she thought angrily. Talentless, cheap, and lucky¡ªNalani didn¡¯t have what it took to be part of the elite fashion world.


    Nalia¡¯s lips curled into a sneer as she imagined how it all went down. She must¡¯ve bribed someone or slept her way into the gig. The very idea made her blood boil. In a sudden fit of rage, she hurled her phone to the floor, the expensive device shattering into several pieces.


    Her chest heaved as she took a deep breath. ¡°No,¡± she whispered to herself. ¡°This isn¡¯t over.¡±


    She stood, smoothing down her wine-red gown. The fabric hugged her figure perfectly, its corset-style bodice emphasizing her slender waist. The gown¡¯s netted sleeves draped elegantly over her arms, and the gathered skirt swirled lightly around her knees. Despite her anger, she looked every inch the composed, calculating woman she was.


    Her mind raced as she reached for the glass of wine on the table beside her. Taking a slow sip, she let the gears in her head turn. She wouldn¡¯t let Nalani take what was rightfully hers. Her sources had already informed her of Nalani¡¯s plan to bring Arielle Kate¡ªa washed-up, past-her-prime model¡ªback into the spotlight for the show.


    Kate¡¯s a joke, Nalia thought bitterly. She let herself be taken advantage of and still clings to her outdated glory. She doesn¡¯t deserve to walk the Newpark Summer Fit Walks. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    But Nalia wasn¡¯t above using her as a pawn. If she could sway Arielle Kate to reject Nalani¡¯s proposal, it would sabotage her efforts completely. And when Nalani failed, Nalia would step in with her team to save the day, cementing her reputation as the true queen of the fashion world.


    She reached for the house phone on the table and dialed a number. It rang several times before a soft, professional voice answered.


    ¡°Good morning, Madam Nalia,¡± Elise said politely.


    ¡°Yeah, yeah, whatever,¡± Nalia snapped. ¡°Listen carefully, Elise. I need you to set up a meeting with Arielle Kate.¡±


    There was a pause. ¡°Ma¡¯am, there¡¯s no way to reach her. She¡¯s rejecting all communication from companies and individuals alike.¡±


    Nalia smirked. Desperate people are easy to manipulate. ¡°Kate¡¯s drowning, Elise. She needs a lifeboat, and we¡¯re going to offer her one. I¡¯ll speak to my father about having her as the face of his rubber company¡¯s new campaign. Two years, exclusive deal. Make sure she signs.¡±


    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am. I¡¯ll get on it right away.¡±


    ¡°And Elise?¡±


    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am?¡±


    ¡°Next time, pick up on the first ring, you stupid pig,¡± Nalia sneered before hanging up.


    She looked down at the broken pieces of her phone, muttering a curse under her breath. Now she needed a new one. With a groan, she left the room, her mind already crafting the next step in her plan.


    Descending the grand staircase, she passed through the estate¡¯s perfectly manicured gardens. The scent of roses filled the air, but it did little to soothe her mood.


    ¡°No one is going to stand in my way,¡± she muttered to herself. ¡°Not some wannabe designer. Not a washed-up model. No one.¡±


    Her driver, waiting by the sleek, white Culivan 55 parked at the entrance, opened the door for her. ¡°Start the car,¡± she ordered sharply, sliding into the plush leather seat.


    Behind her, another car roared to life as her security team prepared to follow. The convoy of vehicles pulled away from the estate, Nalia¡¯s determination radiating like a storm cloud over the horizon.


    ******


    Finding the perfect dress was proving to be a Herculean task for Nalani. She had tried on several options, but none seemed to work. Either they were too revealing, clung to her body awkwardly, or simply didn¡¯t fit the image she had in her head.


    Jules, on the other hand, had struck gold almost instantly. She¡¯d found a sleek black dress adorned with intricate rose patterns sewn into the netting. The low-cut neckline offered a teasing glimpse of her cleavage, while a thigh-high slit added a daring edge. The open back revealed a detailed tattoo spanning half of Jules¡¯ back¡ªa gothic masterpiece that seemed to tell its own story.


    Nalani couldn¡¯t help but stare in disbelief. ¡°Are you planning to seduce the entire fashion show or just half of it?¡±


    Jules smirked, running a hand through her messy black-and-red hair. ¡°What can I say? I aim to impress.¡±


    Nalani rolled her eyes and returned to the pile of clothing Jules had brought out from the back. She sifted through the hangers and racks with growing frustration. It was starting to feel hopeless.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you try something that isn¡¯t a dress?¡± Jules suggested, leaning casually against the counter.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to a fashion show, Jules. I have to wear a dress,¡± Nalani shot back, shaking her head.


    Jules shrugged, clearly unimpressed with her friend¡¯s stubbornness.


    Just as Nalani was about to give up entirely, the front door swung open with a dramatic creak. A tall, muscular man in his early thirties strode in, pushing a large, heavy box on a trolley. His broad shoulders and easy smile immediately lit up the room.


    ¡°Bassy!¡± Nalani exclaimed, her frustration melting away as she ran up to hug him.


    Bassy laughed, scooping her into a bear hug and giving her a playful shake. ¡°Nala! It¡¯s been a while. You disappeared on us!¡±


    ¡°School and stuff,¡± Nalani replied, pulling back with a grin. ¡°How have you been?¡±


    ¡°Pretty good. Busy, as usual. What about you? What brings you here today?¡±


    ¡°Shopping. Obviously,¡± she replied with a dramatic wave toward the racks.


    ¡°Any luck?¡±


    Nalani sighed, her shoulders slumping. ¡°Not really. I¡¯m looking for a dress for a fashion party, but at this point, I¡¯d settle for anything wearable.¡±


    Bassy chuckled and patted the box he¡¯d rolled in. ¡°Well, you¡¯re in luck. I just got these in from the latest shipment. Not thrift¡ªoffloads.¡±


    Nalani¡¯s eyes lit up at the word. Offloads were the holy grail of secondhand fashion: unworn clothes sold in bulk by high-end brands clearing inventory for new seasons. If you were lucky, you could find a designer gem hidden among the pile.


    ¡°Seriously?¡± Nalani asked, her voice rising with excitement.


    ¡°Yep. I was planning to sell the whole box for about (?)1000,¡± Bassy said, ¡°but for you, I¡¯ll let you pick one outfit.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re amazing, Bass!¡± Nalani practically bounced with excitement.


    ¡°Consider it payback for all the times you helped me organize this place,¡± Bassy replied. He grabbed a crowbar, easily pried the box open, and leaned the lid against the wall.


    Nalani wasted no time diving in, her hands rifling through the layers of clothing with practiced efficiency. She was halfway through the box when her enthusiasm began to wane. No dresses. No gowns. Her excitement dwindled into disappointment, her face falling as she stepped back with a sigh.


    Then, Jules held up something from the pile¡ªa two-piece set that caught Nalani¡¯s eye instantly.


    ¡°Is that Tommy Harper?¡± Nalani asked, her tone filled with curiosity and disbelief.


    ¡°Hey, I found it first,¡± Jules protested, clutching the outfit.


    Ignoring her, Nalani grabbed the set and held it up to inspect it. ¡°It is Tommy Harper. From the Frontal Collection!¡±


    The outfit consisted of a bubble-sleeve crop top in a light, almost violet purple. The hem and chest featured adjustable strings for a tailored fit. The matching skirt was a darker shade of purple, complete with a thigh-high slit and strings to adjust its length and tightness. It was elegant, bold, and perfect for the occasion.


    Before Jules could argue, Nalani had darted into the dressing room.


    She emerged moments later, and both Bassy and Jules froze, their eyes widening in awe.


    ¡°You look¡­¡± Jules began, searching for the right word. ¡°Amazing. Like, really beautiful.¡±


    Bassy nodded in agreement. ¡°She¡¯s right. You look great.¡±


    Nalani gave a playful spin, the skirt flowing effortlessly around her. ¡°How much?¡± she asked, grinning.


    Bassy crossed his arms, considering. ¡°On the open market? That outfit could easily go for (?)400.¡±


    Nalani stopped mid-spin, her face falling.


    ¡°But for you,¡± Bassy added with a smile, ¡°it¡¯s free.¡±


    ¡°Wait¡ªare you serious?¡± Nalani asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.


    ¡°Yeah, take it,¡± Bassy said with a shrug.


    Nalani squealed in delight and threw her arms around him. ¡°Thank you so much!¡±


    ¡°What about me?¡± Jules piped up, motioning to her own dress. ¡°My dress is super cute too!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s coming out of your paycheck,¡± Bassy deadpanned.


    Nalani burst out laughing, and even Jules couldn¡¯t help but crack a smile as the room filled with warmth and camaraderie.


    ******


    "Oh my gosh, you look amazing!" Denise exclaimed as Nalani descended the stairs. She wore an oversized T-shirt that hung off one shoulder, paired with bright red low-cut shorts and casual flip-flops. The look was simple but undeniably striking on her.


    Denise, ever the dramatic one, whipped out her phone. "Pose for the camera, sis!" She snapped several photos, giggling as Nalani rolled her eyes but indulged her sister¡¯s antics.


    "You look really good, though. Like, where have you been hiding all this?" Denise teased, spinning Nalani around to admire her outfit from all angles.


    ¡°Mama! Come see Nalani¡¯s outfit!¡± Denise called out.


    Their mother emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. If someone didn¡¯t know better, they might mistake her for their older sister. Her youthful appearance¡ªfreckled skin, curly black hair, and soft brown eyes behind a pair of reading glasses¡ªwas a testament to good genes.


    ¡°You look lovely, Nala,¡± her mother said with a warm smile. ¡°You should dress like this more often.¡±


    ¡°Come on, Mama,¡± Nalani groaned, shaking her head. ¡°You know how much effort it takes to pull this off.¡±


    Denise, ever the joker, gave Nalani a playful smack on the backside. ¡°Girl, you¡¯re fine as hell!¡±


    ¡°No cursing,¡± their mother chided, though her tone was light. She walked closer, placing a hand on Nalani¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Baby, listen to me. Your father was captivated by my looks when we first met. Back when he wasn¡¯t such a bum, he would do anything I asked him to. You¡¯ll find the right man who¡¯ll do the same¡ª¡±


    ¡°Cut it off, Mama,¡± Nalani interjected with a laugh. ¡°I¡¯m going to a fashion show, not some ¡®pop the question¡¯ event.¡± She dug through her purse as her phone buzzed.


    It was Jules.


    ¡°Where you at?¡± Jules asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m just stepping out. What about you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m already at your front porch. Is Mama around? She makes the best baked potatoes in the city.¡±


    Nalani chuckled, calling out to the kitchen. ¡°Mama, Jules says hi!¡±


    Her mother popped her head out. ¡°Where is she?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s outside!¡±


    ¡°Tell her to come in!¡±


    ¡°No, Mama,¡± Nalani replied. ¡°We¡¯re late already. Love you, Mama. Love you, Denise. Love you, Papa!¡± She kissed her father on the cheek as he walked by, then headed toward the door.


    ¡°Remember, my sweet rose,¡± her mother called after her, ¡°be home before midnight!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll try, Godmother,¡± Nalani teased, waving as she opened the door.


    Jules was leaning casually against the porch railing, grinning as Nalani joined her. She waved at the family before the door closed.


    ¡°I already ordered a ride,¡± Jules said. ¡°It should be here... oh, there it is.¡±


    A sleek black car rolled up to the curb. Jules confirmed the driver¡¯s details and gestured for Nalani to hop in.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go see some really cool dresses,¡± Jules said as the car pulled away.


    ******


    The ride took about forty minutes, traffic eating into their schedule, but they made it just in time to grab decent seats. The venue was buzzing with anticipation as they settled in. The lights dimmed, plunging the room into darkness. Then, with a dramatic flair, the stage lit up, revealing a model standing tall and poised.


    The model wore a white gown that cascaded elegantly to the floor, her every step radiating confidence. The dress shimmered under the lights, the subtle details of its fabric catching the audience¡¯s attention.


    ¡°She looks amazing,¡± Jules whispered.


    ¡°Shh! I¡¯m trying to focus,¡± Nalani replied, snapping a few pictures and scribbling notes into her notepad.


    ¡°Someone¡¯s taking this seriously,¡± Jules muttered, smirking.


    As the model exited the stage, a voice interrupted Nalani¡¯s concentration.


    ¡°Excuse me, is this seat taken?¡±


    Nalani turned to see who was speaking and froze. ¡°Oh no, it¡¯s free¡ª


    Her voice rose with recognition before she quickly covered her mouth.


    It was the boy from the coffee shop. Though he looked slightly different, she¡¯d never forget his face. He wore a double-breasted black suit, the sleek fabric bearing the unmistakable insignia of Herod Hellow¡¯s limited collection. Nalani¡¯s fashion-savvy mind immediately registered the exclusivity of the suit¡ªit was custom-made and practically unattainable.


    ¡°You again,¡± the boy said, his tone dripping with annoyance.


    ¡°Who¡¯s the hot dude?¡± Jules asked, nudging Nalani.


    ¡°Coffee boy,¡± Nalani replied under her breath.


    ¡°Coffee boy?¡± they both echoed in unison, Jules with amusement and the boy with utter disgust.


    Jules burst into laughter as the boy scowled. ¡°What are you doing here, peasant girl?¡± he sneered.


    ¡°Peasant girl?¡± Nalani shot back, narrowing her eyes.


    The stage lights dimmed again, drawing their attention.


    ¡°Good evening, everyone,¡± a man¡¯s voice boomed through the speakers. The spotlight revealed him standing at the center of the stage, wearing a striped brown-and-white suit. ¡°Welcome to the greatest fashion show in the world!¡±


    ¡°Greatest show, huh?¡± Nalani muttered, her voice just loud enough to carry.


    The boy turned to her, his face blank but his eyes sharp. ¡°You don¡¯t know when to shut up, do you?¡±


    ¡°Make me!¡± Nalani retorted, blowing a raspberry at him.


    Jules, seated beside her, was trying¡ªand failing¡ªto contain her laughter as the show began.


    He pulled out his phone and began scrolling, deliberately ignoring Nalani. She sighed, turning her attention back to her notes, reading through them with furrowed brows.


    The presenter¡¯s voice boomed over the speakers, drawing everyone¡¯s focus. ¡°Ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasure to introduce our host and the visionary designer behind this event¡ªMargaret Hughson!¡±


    The room erupted into applause as a short woman with a warm smile made her way to the stage. She was handed a microphone, waving graciously at the crowd before tapping it lightly.


    ¡°Good evening, everyone,¡± Margaret began, her voice steady and inviting. ¡°I must say, I¡¯m absolutely blown away by tonight¡¯s turnout. Thank you so much for being here¡ªit means the world to me.¡± She paused, her eyes scanning the audience. ¡°I¡¯d also like to give a special thanks to my son, who has been an incredible help throughout this process. Elijah, are you here?¡±


    The crowd¡¯s applause grew louder, expectantly looking around for this ¡°Elijah¡± to step forward. Moments passed, and the clapping gradually died down when no one appeared.


    ¡°Elijah?¡± Margaret repeated, a hint of confusion in her voice.


    Nalani perked up at the name, glancing around to see if anyone would respond. Beside her, the boy groaned under his breath, his exasperation barely concealed.


    ¡°Just get on with it,¡± he muttered softly, sounding as if he was on the verge of falling asleep.


    Nalani raised an eyebrow at him. ¡°Who hurt you, dude? Chill out. It¡¯s not like they¡¯re looking for you anyway.¡±


    He turned to her, and for the first time, a mischievous smirk spread across his face. ¡°Oh really?¡± he said, his tone almost daring.


    Before Nalani could process his words, he stood up.


    ¡°Get back down!¡± she hissed, her voice rising slightly. ¡°You¡¯re going to embarrass yourself!¡±


    Ignoring her protests, the boy casually made his way toward the stage. Nalani watched in stunned silence as he climbed the steps with the ease of someone completely at home in the spotlight.


    Margaret¡¯s face lit up when she saw him approach. She pulled him into a tight hug, her joy evident as she turned to the audience.


    ¡°And my son, everyone¡ªElijah Hughson!¡±


    The crowd erupted into cheers and applause. Nalani¡¯s jaw dropped, her mind scrambling to piece together what she¡¯d just witnessed. Her wide-eyed gaze locked with Elijah¡¯s for a fleeting moment, and he smiled at her¡ªa smug, knowing smile¡ªbefore turning to wave at the audience.


    ¡°Yo, that chick is his mom?¡± Jules blurted out, entirely oblivious to the tension in Nalani¡¯s expression.


    Nalani didn¡¯t answer, her shock rendering her mute as Elijah took the microphone.


    ¡°I just want to say a big thank you to everyone for coming,¡± Elijah began, his voice smooth and confident. ¡°And to my amazing mother¡ªyou are an inspiration. I love you very much.¡±


    The crowd collectively let out a heartfelt aww at his words. He bowed slightly, offering the audience one last wave. ¡°I won¡¯t keep you waiting any longer. I hope you all have a wonderful evening.¡±


    As the applause swelled again, Elijah made his way back to his seat, moving with the same calm composure that now felt maddeningly familiar to Nalani.


    He sat down beside her, slipping his phone back out of his pocket as if nothing had happened.


    ¡°What do you think now?¡± he asked casually, not even glancing her way.


    Nalani stared at him for a moment, her lips pursed. Finally, she leaned closer and mouthed the word, Showoff.


    Elijah smirked, eyes still on his phone, clearly enjoying her reaction.

 Chapter FOUR (IV)

    A Gentleman''s Persistence.


    Disclaimer


    This is a work of fiction. All characters, locations, and events depicted in this book are entirely the product of the author¡¯s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or real-world events is purely coincidental.


    The show had been nothing short of breathtaking. No matter how irritated Nalani had been earlier, she couldn¡¯t deny the undeniable brilliance of the Os¡¯Lisa. The intricate designs, the vibrant energy, and the aura of creativity captivated her so thoroughly that, by the time Margaret took her appreciation bow, Nalani found herself clapping with such enthusiasm her palms began to sting.


    "Not the greatest show, huh?" Elijah teased from beside her, a sly smile playing on his lips.


    Nalani shot him a dismissive glance and ignored his comment, instead standing up and scanning the room. She spotted her professor halfway through the show and had been waiting for the right moment to thank him for the tickets. Brushing past Elijah, she made her way toward the professor when suddenly Elijah stepped in front of her, cutting off her path.


    "Hey," he said, his tone awkward, his gaze momentarily dropping to his shoes before meeting hers again.


    "Excuse me?" Nalani raised an eyebrow, her irritation apparent.


    "I mean¡ªuh¡ªI just wanted to say¡­ I¡¯m sorry," he stammered, one hand fiddling nervously with a loose curl in his hair.


    "Are you being serious right now?" Nalani asked, her tone a mix of sarcasm and genuine confusion.


    Weirdly enough, Elijah nodded. "Yeah. I just wanted to apologize for what happened at the coffee shop. I know you were at fault, but maybe I should¡¯ve handled it better. You know, shown some concern. So¡­ sorry."


    For a moment, Nalani stared at him, unsure whether to laugh in his face or unleash her frustration. But the professor caught her eye in the distance, still scanning the room. She sighed, dismissing him.


    "Yeah, yeah, it¡¯s fine," she replied curtly before sidestepping him and jogging toward her professor.


    "Oh, and you look good, by the way!" Elijah called after her, his voice carrying over the noise of the crowd.


    Nalani glanced back, flashing him an exaggeratedly seductive smile before disappearing into the crowd.


    "You¡¯re not going to get her like that," Jules said, appearing beside Elijah as if out of nowhere.


    He turned to her with a blank expression. "What? What do you mean? I was just being nice."


    "I see through all your crap," Jules replied coolly. "Listen, Nala¡¯s a sweet girl, and I¡¯m not about to let jerks like you mess with her."


    "Who said anything about messing with her?" Elijah protested, sounding defensive.


    "I¡¯m just saying," Jules continued nonchalantly, "I¡¯m not like Nala. If you so much as touch a strand of her hair, I¡¯ll burn your house down. Cool? Cool." She smiled as if delivering casual advice before turning to glance at Nalani, who was now engrossed in conversation with the professor.


    Both Elijah and Jules turned to watch Nalani, who briefly smiled at them before continuing her conversation.


    "Listen, I don¡¯t know who you are¡ª" Elijah began, his voice filled with exasperation.


    "Jules. Call me Jules," she interrupted.


    "Alright, Jules, I don¡¯t know what your deal is, but I¡¯m not going to hurt her. Like I said, I was just being nice."


    "Yeah, yeah, whatever makes you feel good," Jules replied, waving him off as she strutted toward Nalani.


    Elijah watched her go, a faint scowl on his face. He wasn¡¯t sure why he cared so much or why he felt the need to defend himself. Shaking his head, he fished his car keys out of his pocket and headed toward the back exit. He tapped his phone on the way out, already done with conversations for the night.


    Meanwhile, Jules slipped an arm around Nalani as they left the venue. The two giggled, chatting about the evening as they made their way to the curb.


    "What were you guys talking about?" Nalani asked, glancing at Jules.


    "Nothing serious," Jules replied with a mischievous smile, pulling out her phone to show Nalani the ride app. The screen read: Ride full. Book in 30 minutes.


    Nalani groaned in frustration, her aching feet screaming for relief. "I just want to go home," she muttered, shifting uncomfortably in her heels.


    The two stood near the curb, chatting about their favorite outfits from the show and already planning to attend the next one. Despite her exhaustion, Nalani couldn¡¯t help but admit that the night had been worth it.


    ¡°You seem to be having fun,¡± a voice cut through the chatter, and Nalani turned to see a striking woman standing beside them. She was tall and slender with straight, jet-black hair that cascaded down her back. Her golden-brown eyes gleamed with an icy sharpness, and her features¡ªpointed nose, full lips, and high cheekbones¡ªlooked like they belonged on the cover of a magazine. She wore a long white dress with bubble sleeves, the neckline plunging low enough to reveal an abundance of cleavage. Everything about her screamed ¡°boss lady,¡± the kind of character you¡¯d see dominating scenes in high-powered dramas.


    Jules raised an eyebrow. ¡°Excuse me?¡± she asked, her tone dripping with annoyance as she noticed the towering 6''5" muscular man in an all-black suit standing behind the woman like a bodyguard.


    ¡°I said, you¡¯re having fun after stealing my gig, bitch,¡± the woman snapped, her sharp tone commanding the attention of those nearby.


    Nalani blinked, momentarily speechless. Jules, however, wasn¡¯t one to back down. ¡°Do you know this chick? Because I¡¯m two seconds away from giving her a free face reconstruction,¡± she declared, already slipping off one of her heels.


    ¡°Jules, stop!¡± Nalani grabbed her friend¡¯s arm, trying to defuse the situation even as her own irritation bubbled beneath the surface.


    The woman¡¯s expression darkened, her voice growing louder as she stepped closer. ¡°Oh, playing dumb now? Does ¡®Nalia Padr¨®n¡¯ ring any bells? Thought you could just waltz in and take what¡¯s mine?¡±


    The name struck Nalani like a bolt of lightning. Nalia Padr¨®n. Of course, it was her. The woman who was supposed to get the job Nalani now held.


    ¡°I think there¡¯s been a misunderstanding¡ª¡± Nalani began, attempting to smooth things over.


    ¡°Don¡¯t give me that fake-ass apology!¡± Nalia cut her off. ¡°I don¡¯t know how many men you had to sleep with to get the job, but I know your type.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me? My type? What the hell are you talking about?¡± Nalani shot back, her temper finally snapping.


    Jules broke free from Nalani¡¯s grip, her other shoe in hand and ready to strike. Just as she lunged forward, a sleek car pulled up to the curb.


    ¡°Get in!¡± Elijah called from the driver¡¯s seat, unlocking the doors with a quick click.


    Nalani hesitated for a split second, glaring at Nalia before deciding she wasn¡¯t worth the drama. A crowd was beginning to form, murmurs and camera flashes heightening the tension.


    ¡°Jules, let¡¯s go,¡± Nalani said firmly, grabbing her friend¡¯s arm and pulling her toward the car. She climbed into the front seat while Jules reluctantly slid into the back. Elijah didn¡¯t waste time, stepping on the gas and speeding away.


    Nalia stood on the sidewalk, her expression cold but triumphant. This wasn¡¯t over. She pulled out her phone and dialed. It was time for Plan B.


    ¡°What the hell is wrong with that woman?¡± Jules exploded from the back seat, her voice cutting through the tense silence.


    Nalani didn¡¯t respond, staring down at her phone. The time read 11:30 PM. Her feet ached, her head throbbed, and she just wanted to go home and collapse into bed.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Elijah asked softly, his eyes darting from the road to her face.


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    Nalani stayed silent for a moment before whispering, ¡°Stop the car.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I said stop the car!¡± she snapped, louder this time.


    Elijah braked abruptly and pulled over. Before he could say another word, Nalani pushed open the door and stepped out, walking quickly down the curb.


    ¡°Nala, wait!¡± Jules called, scrambling out of the car and chasing after her.


    Elijah followed, catching up to Nalani and grabbing her by the arm. ¡°Hold up,¡± he said firmly, his grip steady but not harsh.


    ¡°Let me go!¡± Nalani protested, struggling against him, but he didn¡¯t release her.


    ¡°Calm down, Nala,¡± Jules urged, stepping to her side. ¡°Don¡¯t let that drama queen get to you. She¡¯s not worth it.¡±


    Elijah stayed quiet, simply holding Nalani in place until she stopped fighting. Her shoulders slumped, and she let out a shaky breath.


    ¡°Let me drop you off,¡± he said gently.


    Nalani didn¡¯t argue, allowing him to guide her back to the car. As they reached it, she winced. ¡°Ouch.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Elijah asked, concern flashing across his face.


    ¡°My ankle. I think I twisted it,¡± she muttered, glaring at the offending limb.


    Without hesitation, Elijah scooped her up into a princess carry, ignoring her protests as he carried her to the car. Jules followed, shooting him an approving glance.


    The ride was quiet, the soft hum of music from the radio filling the space. Nalani stared out the window, her face unreadable. When they arrived at her house, Elijah got out to help her.


    ¡°I can manage,¡± she insisted, though her limp betrayed her words.


    ¡°You should get that checked,¡± he said softly, his hand hovering near her arm in case she needed support.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Nalani said, turning to face him. Her voice was quiet, but there was a flicker of gratitude in her eyes.


    ¡°I¡¯ll drop Jules off,¡± Elijah replied, lingering for a moment before stepping back. Nalani nodded and disappeared into the house.


    Inside, Denise and their mother scrambled away from the window, pretending to be busy as Nalani limped in.


    ¡°How was it?¡± Denise asked, but Nalani didn¡¯t reply. She headed for the stairs, her movements slow and strained.


    ¡°What happened to your foot?¡± her mother asked, frowning.


    ¡°Nothing, Mama. I just need some rest,¡± Nalani replied, her tone clipped.


    They watched her climb the stairs and heard her door shut moments later. Then, the familiar thrum of music filled the air.


    ¡°She¡¯s probably crying, isn¡¯t she?¡± their mother asked, sighing.


    ¡°Yep. That¡¯s her cry song,¡± Denise replied, shaking her head.


    ******


    Kate woke up wishing she hadn¡¯t. That gnawing, hollow feeling in her chest had returned, the kind that made her fantasize about slipping into sleep and simply not waking up. She would never take her own life¡ªtoo much of her was wired to fight¡ªbut the quiet idea of disappearing felt oddly comforting. Of course, life wasn¡¯t so kind.


    She sat up, wearing nothing but a black Tommy Harper bralette and matching underwear, the chilled morning air brushing against her bare skin. Around her, the king-sized bed was a mess of white sheets and scattered pillows, looking more like a battlefield than a place of rest. With a groggy sigh, Kate reached for the small button on the bedside table. The lights hummed to life, and the motorized blinds slowly slid open, revealing the floor-to-ceiling glass walls that surrounded her room.


    Kate rose to her feet, her stride deliberate but unsteady, and wandered toward the window. The sprawling cityscape greeted her, the constant stream of traffic below making her feel simultaneously connected and isolated. She pressed a hand to the cold glass before turning away. Coffee. She needed coffee if she was going to survive the morning.


    Downstairs, the aftermath of the previous night greeted her like a cruel joke. The TV was still on, casting muted shadows across the room, and the coffee table was littered with empty wine glasses, whiskey bottles, and half-eaten takeout containers. Kate grimaced, remembering how she¡¯d stayed up late, watching The Os¡¯Lisa from home while drowning herself in alcohol. It had been fun in the moment, but now her pounding headache was punishment enough.


    She shuffled to the kitchen, her bare feet cool against the marble floor, and brewed herself a strong cup of coffee. The rich aroma offered a small comfort, and she followed it up with a handful of vitamins from the cabinet. After taking a long sip, she felt marginally better.


    There wasn¡¯t time to wallow; her schedule didn¡¯t allow it. In a few hours, she had a photoshoot to attend, and being late wasn¡¯t an option. With another sip of coffee, Kate headed upstairs for a shower.


    Getting dressed was never stressful for Kate. It was more a matter of choosing from the endless supply of designer outfits that filled her expansive closet. Some pieces hung so far in the back she often forgot she even owned them until their label tags reminded her of the brands that had sent them.


    She settled on a sleeveless black cropped tank top and matching baggy pants from the Trek Sport collection. Her blonde hair was tied into a sleek ponytail, and she finished the look with lime green and white Kive sneakers. Satisfied, she stood before her full-length mirror, her eyes tracing her reflection critically.


    After snapping a few mirror selfies, her stomach growled loudly, reminding her she hadn¡¯t eaten breakfast. The housekeeper wouldn¡¯t arrive until 9:00 AM, and waiting wasn¡¯t an option. She decided she¡¯d stop at the Early Breakfast Club downtown before heading to the shoot.


    Grabbing her lime green tech bag, she threw it over her shoulder and turned to leave. But before stepping out, she paused in front of the mirror again. ¡°Kate, you are bold and beautiful. The world belongs to you,¡± she murmured, her tone determined but hollow. She didn¡¯t believe it, not really. Her confidence was paper-thin, and deep down, she knew she was barely holding it together. Still, fake it till you make it, right?


    When Kate opened the front door, she was greeted by James standing on the porch, a white box in his hands. The red lettering on the box read Early Breakfast Club.


    ¡°Good morning, Katey,¡± James greeted her with his usual warmth.


    ¡°Morning, James. What do you have there?¡± she asked, already knowing the answer but playing along anyway.


    ¡°I made a stop for breakfast,¡± he replied with a grin. ¡°You know I wasn¡¯t going to let you head to your shoot alone, right?¡±


    Kate smiled faintly, stepping out as James moved aside to let her pass. Together, they walked down the porch toward the garage.


    ¡°So, what are you driving today?¡± James asked, stopping by the key rack.


    ¡°Hulvian,¡± Kate replied, motioning toward the sleek electric car parked in the corner. James retrieved the keys and handed them over as they climbed in.


    The drive through the city was peaceful. James had connected his phone to the car¡¯s auxiliary, and the soothing sounds of Sweet Martha played softly in the background. Kate leaned back, letting the music and the hum of the car calm her nerves.


    When they pulled into the parking lot of the studio, the car jerked slightly over the uneven pavement. Kate stepped out, adjusting her bag and glancing around.


    The loud, grating blare of a megaphone shattered the calm.


    ¡°Good morning! You¡¯re late!¡± a voice shouted.


    Kate flinched, throwing her hands over her ears as she looked up. On the roof of the studio stood a familiar figure holding a megaphone: Nalia Padr¨®n. She smirked down at Kate, tapping her wrist to signal the time before disappearing from view.


    ¡°That bitch,¡± Kate hissed through clenched teeth, turning to James, who had come around the car to stand beside her.


    ¡°Who the hell was that?¡± she demanded, her tone sharp.


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ our sponsor,¡± James said quietly, his voice tinged with resignation.


    Kate stared at him, her disbelief slowly turning into frustration. ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding me.¡±


    James shrugged helplessly. ¡°Welcome to the industry,¡± he muttered.


    Kate exhaled sharply, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. She could already tell it was going to be one of those days.


    James had never seen Kate this pissed off before. Sure, she could get frustrated, but this was on another level¡ªdangerously close to full-blown rage. It was the sixteenth time they had redone the fifty-second ad, and with each take, Kate¡¯s patience unraveled further.


    From her high perch on a director''s chair, Nalia¡ªwhom James had secretly nicknamed "the she-devil"¡ªbarked through her ever-present megaphone. ¡°It¡¯s too short! Too inorganic! I can¡¯t feel any real expression. What are you, a doll?¡±


    Kate clenched her fists, her jaw tight as she fought the urge to lunge at Nalia. James quickly stepped in, pulling her aside before she could do something she¡¯d regret.


    ¡°Kate,¡± he said gently, trying to defuse the situation. ¡°It¡¯s the first day. This is normal. Shoots are always rough at the start.¡±


    ¡°I swear to God, if she mentions my boobs one more time, I¡¯ll shove that megaphone down her throat,¡± Kate hissed, glaring in Nalia¡¯s direction.


    James raised an eyebrow, surprised. ¡°Your boobs? That¡¯s what¡¯s got you this mad?¡±


    Before Kate could respond, Nalia interrupted yet another take.


    ¡°A lot of fake talent these days,¡± she called out mockingly through the megaphone.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± Kate snapped, her voice sharp as a blade.


    ¡°You heard me,¡± Nalia retorted, jumping down from her chair with an exaggerated air of confidence. ¡°If you had any real talent, you wouldn¡¯t be here, wearing a tube top, selling ads for a second-rate company.¡±


    ¡°Your company,¡± Kate shot back, her tone dripping with venom.


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Nalia replied with a smug smile. ¡°Second-rate as shit.¡±


    Kate¡¯s temper boiled over. ¡°I¡¯m so pissed off! Run it back? No way. That was a good shot!¡±


    From the sidelines, James tried to intervene. ¡°She¡¯s right! That was solid!¡±


    Nalia turned her venom on him. ¡°I¡¯m not talking to you, baldy.¡±


    James froze, his hand instinctively going to the missing hair that was once perched on his bald head.


    ¡°Hey!¡± Kate interjected, stepping between them. ¡°I don¡¯t care if your mother never taught you manners, but you don¡¯t talk to my manager like that. Ever.¡±


    Nalia smirked. ¡°Or what? You¡¯ll walk away? It¡¯s not like you have a choice.¡±


    ¡°Oh, fuck you!¡± Kate yelled, throwing up her hands. ¡°I¡¯m done with this bullshit.¡± She turned on her heel and started walking away.


    ¡°You can¡¯t leave! You signed a five-hour contract¡ªthree times a week for two years. I own this time,¡± Nalia barked, her voice echoing across the set.


    Kate paused at the door, looking over her shoulder with a dangerous glint in her eyes. ¡°Good thing I haven¡¯t signed it yet.¡± And with that, she disappeared into the dressing room.


    ¡°What does she mean by that?¡± Nalia snapped, her frustration spilling over. ¡°Anyone care to explain? Elise?¡±


    Elise, the production assistant, hesitated, her arms full of files. ¡°Um¡­ it means this was supposed to be a test run before the formal contract was signed,¡± she stammered.


    And you didn''t think to inform me about that? Nalia shot at her.


    James grinned as he stepped forward. ¡°And you just screwed it up. Have fun commanding your minions, dumbass.¡± He tipped an imaginary hat and walked off.


    Nalia¡¯s face turned red as she screamed after him, ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding me! Get back here! NOW!¡±


    ******


    Elsewhere


    Nalani lay sprawled on her bed, her hair a tangled mess and her mood even worse. She wore nothing but an oversized T-shirt, her injured foot propped up on a pillow. The dull throb in her ankle was bad enough, but it paled in comparison to the sting of rejection she felt every time she reread the message on her phone:


    Fuck off.


    Kate¡¯s response from the night before echoed in her head like a cruel taunt. Nalani stared at the screen, willing the text to morph into something more positive¡ªsomething like Yes, let¡¯s work together! But of course, it didn¡¯t. She screamed into her pillow, flailing her legs in frustration until a sharp jolt of pain reminded her why that was a bad idea.


    A knock at her door broke her pity party. She lifted her head reluctantly. ¡°Denise?¡±


    ¡°Good morning, sis,¡± Denise called through the door. ¡°I know it¡¯s a bad time, but¡­ someone¡¯s here to see you.¡±


    Nalani groaned. ¡°Who?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯d be better if you just came downstairs,¡± Denise replied, her voice wary.


    Nalani sighed, reluctantly pulling herself out of bed. She slipped on some underwear and hobbled to the door. Ignoring the sharp pain in her foot, she made her way downstairs.


    When her eyes landed on the figure in the living room, she froze.


    ¡°Elijah,¡± she whispered, stumbling back a step before turning and retreating upstairs as quickly as her injury allowed.


    Denise rolled her eyes, her glare boring into Elijah, who sat casually on the couch. Their mother emerged from the kitchen, balancing a plate of mashed potatoes and baked ribs.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Elijah said politely as she handed him the plate.


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t mind Nala,¡± their mother replied with a warm smile. ¡°She¡¯s just a bit shy.¡±


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± Denise demanded, crossing her arms.


    ¡°Denise!¡± their mother chided.


    ¡°Mama, this dude is an asshole,¡± Denise snapped.


    ¡°No cursing,¡± their mother warned, her tone sharp.


    Elijah muttered something under his breath, but Denise wasn¡¯t having it. ¡°What did you say, punk?¡± she demanded, stepping closer.


    ¡°I said¡­ I¡¯m sorry for what happened in the coffee shop,¡± Elijah replied, his voice low but sincere.


    Denise blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected apology. She didn¡¯t know what to say, so she simply stared at him, unsure of whether to forgive him¡ªor punch him.


    ¡°That¡­ that doesn¡¯t change anything,¡± Denise muttered, her voice stubborn but faltering.


    ¡°Dee, the lad has apologized. Stop teasing him and go get your sister. Drag her if you must¡ª¡±


    ¡°What do you want?¡± Nalani interrupted, her voice sharp as she descended the stairs. She was more appropriately dressed now, wearing an oversized hoodie and sweatpants tucked into white socks. One foot sported a rubber shoe, while the other held its match, dangling in her hand.


    Elijah stood and offered her a smile. He looked put-together in a striped purple-and-white button-up shirt, brown slacks, and polished dress shoes. ¡°I¡¯m here to take you to the hospital,¡± he said, his tone light but firm.


    ¡°No, thank you. I can manage,¡± Nalani replied, limping slightly as she struggled down the last few steps.


    Before she could object further, Elijah strode up to her and lifted her into his arms with little effort. ¡°You¡¯re stubborn,¡± he remarked. ¡°And that¡¯s bad for you.¡±


    Nalani didn¡¯t respond, avoiding his gaze as she stared at the floor. He carried her to the living room and gently set her on the chair. ¡°You really need to get that checked,¡± he said, pointing at her swollen ankle.


    ¡°Oh my gosh, Nala, what happened to your foot?¡± her mother exclaimed as she entered the room.


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing serious. Just a minor accident,¡± Nalani said dismissively.


    ¡°Minor, my ass,¡± her mother interjected. ¡°I¡¯m taking you to the clinic.¡±


    ¡°Mama, no¡ª¡± Nalani began to protest.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take her,¡± Elijah cut in confidently.


    ¡°I¡¯m coming with¡ªouch!¡± Denise added, grabbing her side dramatically.


    ¡°Good,¡± their mother said, clapping her hands decisively. ¡°You and I will head to the supermarket for groceries, then.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t just¡ª¡± Nalani started, but her mother silenced her with a wave of her hand.


    ¡°Listen, Nala, let the gentleman take you to the hospital, okay?¡±


    ¡°Gentleman?¡± Nalani and Denise said in unison, their tones dripping with disbelief.


    Elijah smiled faintly as he walked toward the kitchen to return the empty paper plate. Their mother blocked his path, snatching it from him. ¡°I¡¯ll take this. You take her,¡± she said, nodding toward Nalani.


    ¡°Thank you, ma¡¯am,¡± Elijah said politely, turning back to Nalani. ¡°Shall we?¡±


    Nalani scowled, crossing her arms as he approached. ¡°Just so we¡¯re clear, this is not a date. Or anything remotely like that.¡±


    ¡°I never said it was,¡± Elijah replied calmly, lifting her once more.


    As he carried her out of the house, Denise and their mother stood by the door, watching the scene unfold. Denise leaned toward her mother and muttered, ¡°I still think he¡¯s an asshole.¡±


    ¡°Hush now,¡± their mother replied, though her lips twitched with the hint of a smile.

 Chapter FIVE(V)

    Confronting the Pain.


    Disclaimer


    This is a work of fiction. All characters, locations, and events depicted in this book are entirely the product of the author¡¯s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or real-world events is purely coincidental.


    "You know," Elijah said from the driver¡¯s seat, his tone casual but pointed, "you don¡¯t have to act all tough and strong. It¡¯s okay to admit when something¡¯s bothering you."


    Nalani turned to him, narrowing her eyes into a glare that could pierce steel. Her expression screamed: Say that again, and I will personally remove your head.


    "Remember what I said," she snapped. "No small talk."


    Elijah glanced her way briefly, his face a mix of amusement and concern, before focusing back on the road. Nalani tried shifting her injured ankle again, wincing from the sharp pain. Despite herself, she let out a small hiss of discomfort.


    "Are you okay?" Elijah asked, glancing at her.


    "It¡¯s none of your business," she replied harshly, crossing her arms.


    "Come on, I¡¯m just trying to be nice," Elijah countered, still calm.


    "Well, Mister Nice Guy," she retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "I didn¡¯t ask for your help, so leave me alone."


    Elijah sighed audibly, the sound filling the car. Nalani could feel the tension building, her heart pounding inexplicably. She hated this¡ªhated how he could make her feel unsettled and cared for at the same time.


    After a few moments of silence, she bit her lip and muttered, "I¡¯m sorry."


    Elijah looked at her, his face breaking into a small smile. "It¡¯s fine. Karma¡¯s just being a bitch, as usual."


    His phone rang, the sound cutting through the quiet car. Both of them glanced at the screen as the caller ID lit up: Mom with a love emoji. Nalani raised an eyebrow but quickly looked away, pretending not to care.


    "You should probably take that," she said, more out of politeness than actual concern.


    "It¡¯s nothing," Elijah replied dismissively, his tone casual. "She just wants to know where I am and ask about some random stuff. Not that important."


    "Dude," Nalani said, incredulous, "it¡¯s your mom."


    Elijah shrugged. "Not really," he muttered under his breath.


    Nalani frowned, her curiosity piqued. "What do you mean by ¡®not really¡¯?" she pressed.


    "It¡¯s nothing serious," he replied, his tone shifting slightly as he changed the subject. "So, how¡¯s the leg? On a scale of one to ten, how¡¯s the pain?"


    "Over ten. Wouldn¡¯t recommend," Nalani replied with a smirk, drawing a laugh from Elijah. His laughter was contagious, and despite herself, Nalani joined in.


    The phone rang again, but this time Elijah picked it up, glanced at the screen, and turned it off, shoving it into the glove compartment. Nalani noticed but chose not to comment, instead pulling out her phone to watch a couple of fashion videos.


    "You like music?" Elijah asked suddenly, breaking the silence.


    "Yeah, sure," Nalani replied, her eyes still glued to her screen.


    "What kind?"


    Nalani sighed, lowering her phone slightly. "Remember what I said about small talk? Respect it now."


    "Come on," Elijah persisted, a teasing edge in his voice. "It wouldn¡¯t hurt to answer. Who¡¯s your favorite artist at the moment?"


    Realizing he wasn¡¯t going to give up, Nalani rolled her eyes. "The Fallouts," she said sharply, hoping to end the conversation there.


    "You listen to The Fallouts?" Elijah asked, genuine surprise coloring his tone.


    "Yeah, I do. Anything wrong with that?"


    "I mean," Elijah began, chuckling, "you don¡¯t exactly look like a Fallouts fan."


    "Excuse me?" Nalani shot back, feigning offense. "Should I go grab some black skirts and high boots to prove my allegiance?"


    They stared at each other for a beat before bursting into laughter. It was a rare, shared moment of levity that felt strangely natural.


    Elijah reached into the car¡¯s console, pulling out a small stack of CDs.


    "What are those?" Nalani asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.


    "CDs, obviously," he replied, rifling through the stack before pulling one out. It was worn, the cover featuring two boys and a girl standing against a backdrop of stars.


    "You have the Roses and Dreams album?" Nalani exclaimed, her tone full of awe.


    "Yep. The original classic," Elijah bragged, sliding the disc into the car¡¯s CD player.


    A few seconds of static filled the car before the soft strains of rock music played. Nalani immediately started singing along, missing a few notes but not caring. Elijah didn¡¯t either. He simply watched her, a rare smile tugging at his lips.


    By the time they pulled into the hospital parking lot, Nalani felt a strange sense of ease¡ªthough she¡¯d never admit it.


    "You don¡¯t have to carry me inside," she said firmly, unbuckling her seatbelt.


    Elijah grinned. "I can¡¯t let you put pressure on that ankle. So, giddy up."


    Before she could protest, he opened her door and scooped her up effortlessly. She blinked in surprise, silently marveling at his strength despite his lean build.


    "Can you help me with that?" Elijah asked, nodding toward the car key he held beneath his arm. Nalani took it, pressing the lock button. The car beeped in response.


    "Let¡¯s get that leg checked, shall we?" he said as he carried her through the hospital¡¯s main doors.


    Nalani sighed, her face flushing slightly. "Just so we¡¯re clear," she muttered, "this is not a date."


    "I never said it was," Elijah replied, his voice laced with amusement.


    And with that, they disappeared into the hospital¡¯s bright hallways, the music from the car still echoing faintly in Nalani¡¯s mind.


    Nalani¡¯s cheeks burned with embarrassment as Elijah carried her through the hospital hallway, ignoring the curious stares of patients and staff. She buried her face in her hands, wishing she could disappear. The weight of her awkwardness only grew heavier when they approached the receptionist.


    "Good morning," Elijah said with a charming smile, his voice warm and friendly.


    The receptionist, a young woman with a neat bun and a navy-blue uniform, looked up from her desk. Her professional demeanor faltered slightly as she returned his smile. Nalani noticed the subtle shift immediately. It was as if she had vanished from the scene entirely, and now she was witnessing the opening act of a rom-com starring Elijah and the receptionist.


    Her eyes darted between them, and she couldn¡¯t help but think, Of course. With his looks, every woman would be all over him if he weren¡¯t such a jerk sometimes.


    Nalani cleared her throat pointedly, breaking their silent exchange. The receptionist blinked, her pleasant expression shifting to one of barely concealed irritation as she turned to Nalani.  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    "How may I help you?" she asked, her tone clipped.


    "We¡¯d like to see a doctor, please," Elijah replied smoothly before Nalani could speak.


    The receptionist picked up the office phone and made a brief call, her voice a mix of yeses and nos. After hanging up, she looked at them again. "Please take a seat. The doctor will see you shortly."


    "Thank you," Elijah said, nodding politely before turning toward the waiting area.


    He gently helped Nalani onto a chair before sitting beside her. "What are you thirsty for?" he asked, glancing around as if searching for a vending machine.


    "Anything, really," she replied, trying to keep her tone indifferent.


    "Anything? Don¡¯t you have a favorite soda or something?"


    "Fine," she said, relenting. "I¡¯ll take a Dr. Spicy."


    "One Dr. Spicy coming right up," he said with a grin before heading off down the hallway.


    Left alone, Nalani pulled out her phone, her thumb hovering over a message from Kate. Reading it again made her stomach twist. She needed a plan¡ªfast. Asking Elijah for help crossed her mind briefly. He was the prince of the fashion world, after all. But taking advantage of his kindness felt too exploitative, even if she hated to admit he was being kind.


    A gentle tap on her lap startled her. She looked down to see a little girl, no older than five, holding up a small, well-loved doll with wide, curious eyes.


    "Thank you. It¡¯s so beautiful," Nalani said with a smile, lifting the girl onto her lap.


    The child giggled as she pulled out a tiny brush and began combing the doll¡¯s hair.


    "You two look lovely," said a woman sitting nearby, her voice kind and warm.


    "Thank you," Nalani replied softly, her tone almost shy.


    A nurse stepped into the room and called out, "Mrs. Richards, the doctor will see you now."


    The woman smiled at Nalani and then turned to the little girl. "Come on, Pride, it¡¯s our turn."


    The girl slid off Nalani¡¯s lap, grinning up at her one last time before running to her mother, who held out her hand. As they walked away, Nalani couldn¡¯t help but feel a pang of nostalgia. The scene reminded her of her own childhood¡ªwhen her father used to take her to doctor¡¯s appointments. But that was a long time ago, and those memories felt like they belonged to someone else.


    As the minutes dragged on, she realized Elijah had been gone for quite a while.


    Down the hallway, Elijah stood with two soda cans in hand, leaning against the wall. He hadn¡¯t planned to linger, but he found himself watching Nalani from afar. Her smile when she interacted with the little girl was soft, genuine, and unguarded. It made something stir in his chest¡ªa feeling he didn¡¯t quite know how to name.


    The drinks were getting warm in his hands, but he didn¡¯t want to move just yet. He wanted to savor the moment, to watch her without the usual sharpness in her eyes.


    "She¡¯s beautiful, isn¡¯t she?"


    Startled, Elijah turned to see Mrs. Richards standing nearby, holding her daughter¡¯s hand.


    "Yeah," he said, his voice quieter than usual.


    Mrs. Richards smiled knowingly before walking past him, Pride giving him a cheerful wave as they disappeared down the hall.


    Back in the waiting area, Nalani fidgeted in her seat. Her mind was replaying Kate¡¯s message and spiraling into doubts. When Elijah finally returned, she expected a teasing remark or some light banter. Instead, he was quiet, almost subdued, as he handed her the Dr. Spicy.


    "What¡¯s up with your face?" she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.


    "Nothing," he replied, sitting down heavily.


    "Are you sure?"


    "I said it¡¯s nothing," he repeated, his tone shutting down further questions.


    The silence between them was heavy and unfamiliar, stretching into the doctor¡¯s office when it was finally her turn.


    As the doctor examined her foot, Nalani found her thoughts drifting again. She couldn¡¯t stop replaying the moment she¡¯d caught Elijah with the receptionist earlier. It was stupid, she told herself, to think he might have any real interest in her. He was rich, handsome, and charismatic. Of course, women were drawn to him. She wasn¡¯t special.


    When the appointment ended, and Elijah wasn¡¯t waiting outside the room, her stomach dropped. She pushed herself off the examination table, wincing as she tested her weight on her good foot. Hobbling into the hallway, she caught sight of him near the vending machines.


    Her heart sank.


    There he was, locked in a seemingly passionate hug with a nurse. The woman was strikingly beautiful, tall, and slender with an air of confidence. Her perfume was strong enough to reach Nalani even from a distance.


    Nalani¡¯s throat tightened. She clenched her fists and looked away, swallowing down the bitterness rising in her chest. Of course, she thought. I was stupid to think anything different.


    She turned away and limped back toward the waiting area, telling herself it didn¡¯t matter. But the ache in her chest felt sharper than the pain in her ankle.


    ¡°The good news is she¡¯ll be able to leave after today,¡± the doctor began, his calm voice masking the seriousness of his words. ¡°The bad news is we¡¯ll need to do a proper X-ray to determine if her foot is broken.¡±


    ¡°Broken?¡± Nalani¡¯s voice rose, her eyes darting to Elijah, who straightened in his chair, his concerned gaze locked on the doctor.


    ¡°How long before we can do the X-ray?¡± Elijah asked, his tone steady but tense.


    ¡°Right now, ideally,¡± the doctor replied. ¡°The swelling around the foot could be due to a bone fragment or restricted blood flow. A proper scan will give us a clearer picture.¡±


    ¡°A bone?¡± Nalani repeated, her voice higher this time, a mix of shock and fear.


    ¡°It¡¯s just a possibility,¡± the doctor reassured her. ¡°No need to panic just yet. I¡¯ll have the nurses prepare you for the scan.¡± With that, he left the room, leaving the air heavy with unease.


    Nalani¡¯s lips trembled as she turned to Elijah. ¡°I can¡¯t have a broken foot. Not now!¡± she said, her voice cracking with panic.


    ¡°It¡¯s going to be fine,¡± Elijah said gently, leaning forward to comfort her.


    ¡°This is all your fault!¡± she snapped, her voice sharp and accusing.


    ¡°My fault?¡± Elijah asked, his brows knitting together in confusion. ¡°I wasn¡¯t the one running down the street in the middle of the night wearing heels.¡±


    ¡°I should¡¯ve stayed home,¡± Nalani countered, tears welling in her eyes. ¡°I should¡¯ve never gotten into your stupid car!¡±


    Elijah opened his mouth to respond but then paused, taking a deep breath to calm himself. ¡°It¡¯s going to be fine, Nala¡ª¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t ever call me that!¡± she interrupted, her voice fierce.


    He sighed, the tension between them palpable. ¡°Look,¡± he said, keeping his voice steady. ¡°You heard what the doctor said. It¡¯s just a possibility¡ª¡±


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± a nurse called from the doorway, cutting through the argument. ¡°I¡¯m here for Nalani Amara Colette Pablo?¡±


    Nalani froze, momentarily startled by how perfectly the nurse pronounced her full name on the first try. That small spark of pleasure quickly faded when she realized who the nurse was¡ªthe same woman she¡¯d seen Elijah hugging earlier.


    Nalani sat in the examination room, her foot propped up on the scanning machine as the technician prepared the X-ray. Her thoughts churned, bouncing between her anger at Elijah and the stress of her situation.


    Meanwhile, in another part of the hospital, Elijah leaned against a wall, running his hand through his hair. He didn¡¯t know what to make of Nalani¡¯s outburst. Was she upset about her foot? Or was it something else entirely?


    ******


    Back at the estate, Nalia adjusted the camera carefully, ensuring the frame was perfect. Her filming room was one of her favorite places in the sprawling mansion. The white walls were decorated with pictures of her and her dog, Colleen, while the lighting created a soft, professional ambiance.


    Dressed in a cream-colored double-breasted suit that hugged her frame perfectly, paired with matching trousers, she looked every bit the powerful businesswoman she wanted the world to see. Her black hair was tied into a neat bun, and her makeup was flawless.


    She scanned the script in her hand one last time, nodding to herself before tapping the lighting controls for a more cinematic effect. With a deep breath, she hit the record button.


    ¡°Good afternoon, everyone,¡± she began, her voice smooth and confident. ¡°Welcome to Nalia¡¯s Vlog. As you all know, I¡¯ve been away for a while, preparing for a major job interview. Speaking of interviews, let¡¯s talk about stealers¡ªyes, those people who think it¡¯s okay to take credit for someone else¡¯s work. Honestly, I think it should be a legal offense.¡±


    Her smile was sharp as she continued. ¡°We¡¯ll dive into that today.¡±


    After finishing, she reviewed the footage a few times, tweaking the lighting and angles. Once satisfied, she uploaded the video to her stream app before sharing it on Vibestream. It was her masterpiece, a calculated takedown of a rival designer. She¡¯d cast herself as the hardworking, innovative victim, ensuring the court of public opinion was firmly on her side.


    Nalia smiled to herself, feeling triumphant. She slipped off her heels, replacing them with cozy bunny slippers, and made her way downstairs to celebrate.


    Elise, her assistant, was waiting in the living room with a phone in her hand.


    ¡°Your father wants to speak to you,¡± Elise said, handing her the phone.


    Nalia sighed but took the call, her voice adopting a playful tone. ¡°Hello, Daddy.¡±


    ¡°Hello, my princess,¡± her father¡¯s deep voice came through, calm but distant. ¡°How are you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not fine,¡± she pouted. ¡°When are you coming back?¡±


    ¡°Just before New Year¡¯s, I promise,¡± he replied. ¡°How¡¯s Jasson?¡±


    ¡°The weather¡¯s terrible¡ªsometimes hot, sometimes cold. They keep saying on TV that the climate is messed up. I wanted to go somewhere colder for the holidays, maybe ski for a bit.¡±


    Her father chuckled. ¡°I understand, my love. But you know how busy Beatrice and I have been. It¡¯s that time of year when we have to handle stocks and markets. Maybe next year.¡±


    Nalia¡¯s expression darkened, her annoyance barely concealed. It was always the same excuse.


    ¡°How¡¯s the company coming along?¡± he asked, shifting the topic to what truly mattered to him.


    ¡°We¡¯re still in the development stage, trying to break into the market,¡± she replied, her tone careful.


    ¡°Oh, great. Beatrice told me you lost the Kate contract. Care to explain that?¡± His voice was calm, but Nalia could hear the edge beneath his words.


    ¡°She was a washed-up model,¡± Nalia said quickly. ¡°She couldn¡¯t handle the heat, so she left¡ª¡±


    ¡°Listen here,¡± her father interrupted, his voice rising. She could hear the sharp slam of his hand against a desk. ¡°I invested a lot of money into that contract, and you just threw it away.¡±


    ¡°Trust me, Dad,¡± Nalia said, her tone soothing despite her frustration. ¡°I¡¯ll fix it. I just need time.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re running out of time,¡± he snapped. ¡°When I return, you¡¯d better have something to show for it, or we¡¯re going to have a serious talk.¡±


    With that, the line went dead.


    Nalia stared at the phone, her jaw tightening. She¡¯d grown used to her father treating her as either a spoiled child or a business pawn¡ªnothing in between. But she was determined. One day, she¡¯d take the reins of the company entirely, and he wouldn¡¯t be able to question her again.


    The phone buzzed in her ear, her father¡¯s words still echoing in her mind, and with an irritated sigh, Nalia tossed the phone toward Elise, who barely managed to catch it. ¡°Talk about a mood killer,¡± she muttered, spinning on her heel to head upstairs. The thought of her victory drink soured with every step.


    ¡°Cancel all my meetings,¡± Nalia called over her shoulder as she ascended the grand staircase. ¡°And get me every single record from all the rubber companies and brands in the city.¡± Her voice carried the sharp edge of authority, leaving no room for questions.


    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am,¡± Elise replied obediently, turning to leave.


    ¡°And get me a drink¡ªsomething hot. Oh, and maybe a good-looking guy too. I need to clear my head.¡± Nalia¡¯s voice trailed off as she disappeared up the flight of stairs.


    Elise paused for a moment, staring at the empty staircase before muttering to herself, ¡°How much longer do I have to put up with this?¡± With a resigned sigh, she turned to complete the task.


    ******


    ¡°See? I told you it wasn¡¯t that bad,¡± Elijah said with a grin as he leaned casually against the hospital wall. It was the fourth time his eyes met the nurse¡¯s across the room, and each time, both looked away quickly, but the stolen glances didn¡¯t go unnoticed by Nalani.


    The doctor had just finished wrapping her foot, explaining the care routine. ¡°Rest, keep weight off it, and use ice for any pain. If it gets worse, come back immediately,¡± he instructed, securing the splint snugly around her foot.


    ¡°Thank you, doctor,¡± Nalani replied curtly, her voice polite but distant.


    Her real focus wasn¡¯t on her injury but on the ¡°lovebirds¡± exchanging glances behind the doctor. Elijah, arms crossed and sleeves rolled up, leaned against the wall, looking effortlessly cool. Meanwhile, the nurse¡ªher eyes lingering on Elijah longer than necessary¡ªseemed far more invested in him than her work.


    When the doctor handed her the crutches, Elijah moved to help her up, but she jerked away. ¡°I don¡¯t need your help,¡± she snapped, gripping the crutches tightly and hobbling toward the door.


    Elijah hesitated, exchanging quick nods with the doctor and the nurse before following Nalani out.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been acting weird since I came back with drinks. What¡¯s up with that?¡± Elijah asked, his voice tinged with concern as they made their way down the hall.


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing,¡± Nalani said, her tone cold. ¡°I just didn¡¯t know your girlfriend worked here.¡±


    ¡°My girlfriend?¡± Elijah blinked in confusion. ¡°You mean Bella?¡±


    ¡°Oh, so that¡¯s her name. Nice,¡± Nalani replied dryly, her sarcasm cutting through the air.


    ¡°Come on, Nala¡ª¡±


    ¡°To you, it¡¯s Nalani,¡± she snapped, stopping in her tracks. ¡°In fact, screw you. Don¡¯t call my name at all.¡±


    Elijah sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°She¡¯s not my girlfriend, Nalani. We¡¯re not even close.¡±


    ¡°Sure didn¡¯t look that way when you were hugging her,¡± she said, her voice dripping with disdain.


    ¡°You saw that?¡± Elijah shifted uncomfortably, his voice defensive. ¡°It¡¯s not what you think.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure it isn¡¯t. Look, whatever excuse you¡¯re about to make, just save it. Either drop me off or I¡¯ll figure out my own way home,¡± Nalani said, groaning as she accidentally put weight on her injured foot.


    Without a word, Elijah stepped forward, wrapping an arm around her to support her weight. Despite her protests, he guided her down the hall and out to the car.


    Once they were inside, Elijah glanced over at her. ¡°How about we grab some lunch first? You know, to make it up to you.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Nalani replied firmly. ¡°Just take me home.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t drop you off on an empty stomach. Your mom will kill me,¡± Elijah said, starting the car.


    ¡°Why is it so hard for you to just listen for once?¡± Nalani growled, crossing her arms.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be so stubborn, jeez,¡± Elijah shot back. ¡°We¡¯re getting lunch. That¡¯s final.¡±


    Nalani opened her mouth to argue, but her stomach betrayed her, letting out a loud growl. Elijah smirked, glancing at her with an amused expression.


    ¡°Don¡¯t even,¡± she warned, glaring at him.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t say anything!¡± he said, though his lips twitched with suppressed laughter.


    Her stomach growled again, and this time, Elijah couldn¡¯t hold back a chuckle.


    ¡°I swear, one more sound and I¡¯ll throw you out of this car,¡± she said, her cheeks flushing.


    ¡°Relax,¡± he said, biting back another laugh. ¡°There are snacks in the back.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want your snacks,¡± she said stubbornly, though her stomach betrayed her with another rumble.


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± he asked, his tone teasing.


    With a huff, Nalani reached into the back seat, pulling out a neatly packed snack tray. As she opened it, her eyes lit up slightly at the sight of the assortment of treats.


    Elijah reached out to grab one, but she smacked his hand away. ¡°No snacking while driving,¡± she said firmly.


    ¡°Since when was that a rule?¡± he protested.


    ¡°Since now,¡± she replied smugly. ¡°And think of it as punishment for being a playboy.¡±


    Elijah groaned but didn¡¯t argue, though he couldn¡¯t resist sneaking a glance at her out of the corner of his eye. Despite her sharp tongue and fiery attitude, he couldn¡¯t help but admire how effortlessly she commanded attention¡ªeven when she was angry.

 Chapter SIX(VI)

    Fractured Connections.


    Disclaimer


    This is a work of fiction. All characters, locations, and events depicted in this book are entirely the product of the author¡¯s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or real-world events is purely coincidental.


    James had been knocking on Kate¡¯s door for nearly half an hour. He¡¯d come early to discuss potential overseas deals that could help revive her career. Yet, there was no response, and it was starting to unsettle him. What could she possibly be doing up there? He thought, pulling back his sleeve to glance at his watch. It was 7:30 in the morning, far too late for her to still be asleep.


    He exhaled deeply, swiping at the beads of sweat forming on his brow. Stepping back, he tilted his head to look at the upstairs windows, hoping for any sign of movement. The house was eerily silent. Something didn¡¯t feel right.


    ¡°Maybe I should call her again,¡± he muttered, pulling out his phone. He dialed her number, and the sound of her phone ringing echoed faintly from within the house. It didn¡¯t help his growing anxiety. His gut was screaming that something was wrong.


    He turned back to the door, pressing his shoulder against it and giving it a hard push, but it didn¡¯t budge. Panic began to set in. He bolted down the porch stairs toward the garage. Flinging the door open, he rummaged through the glove compartment, tossing aside random items¡ªa rubber duck, a pile of women¡¯s clothes¡ªuntil a metallic clang hit the floor.


    James dropped to his knees, scooping up the golden key that had fallen. ¡°Found you!¡± he exclaimed, his voice strained with urgency. He sprinted back to the front door, shoved the key into the lock, and twisted until he heard the satisfying click of it unlocking.


    The door swung open, and James was immediately hit by a sour, acrid smell. It was the unmistakable stench of stale alcohol, the kind that clung to the air after hours of drinking. His gaze fell to the floor, where empty wine bottles lay scattered like forgotten memories.


    He paused, trying to locate her, when the soft, uneven thudding of footsteps caught his attention. Turning to the staircase, his breath caught in his throat. There she was, barely holding herself up against the railing.


    Kate¡¯s long hair was a tangled mess, her body trembling as she stumbled down a step. She was completely naked, her skin pale and clammy. Her deep-set eyes were bloodshot, unfocused, and distant.


    ¡°Who¡­ who are you?¡± she slurred, her words barely intelligible.


    James¡¯s heart sank. ¡°Katey? Are you okay?¡± he asked, stepping cautiously toward her. It was painfully clear she was in a bad state.


    Her eyes flickered as if trying to process his presence, but the effort was too much. James knew this behavior all too well¡ªshe wasn¡¯t hungover; she was still drunk. Memories of her previous struggles with alcohol flashed through his mind. It had taken months of therapy to get her to quit. Yet, after her career had fallen apart, she¡¯d spiraled back into this destructive habit.


    He shrugged off his coat, quickly wrapping it around her shivering form. Kate leaned heavily against him, resting her head on his chest before suddenly retching.


    ¡°Great,¡± he muttered under his breath as the vomit soaked through his pristine white shirt, the sour smell intensifying. His discomfort didn¡¯t matter. She needed help.


    Without a word, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bathroom. Setting her in the tub, he turned on the warm water, letting it run over her body. He washed her hair and face, trying to clean her up while ensuring she didn¡¯t slip into unconsciousness.


    ¡°Not today, Kate,¡± he murmured, his voice both stern and soft.


    Once she was clean, he dried her off and dressed in her a pair of white and blue striped pajamas, carried her to her bed, tucking her in like a fragile child. She mumbled incoherently before falling into a restless sleep. James sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, his mind racing. She needed food, something to settle her stomach and restore her energy.


    Pulling out his phone, he debated ordering takeout but decided against it. Instead, he called the one person he trusted to help¡ªhis wife.


    The phone rang a few times before a sweet, familiar voice answered. ¡°Oh, hi honey,¡± she greeted warmly.


    ¡°Hey, baby,¡± James replied, glancing at Kate¡¯s unconscious form. ¡°I need your help with that special hangover soup of yours.¡±


    There was a pause on the line before she replied, ¡°Oh, really? What does she have in her kitchen?¡±


    James hesitated. ¡°Give me a second to check,¡± he said, standing and heading downstairs.


    He opened the fridge, frowning at its contents¡ªor lack thereof. A few bottles of wine, some snacks, and a half-eaten chocolate cake stared back at him mockingly. He moved to the cabinets, only to find them equally bare.


    ¡°It¡¯s empty, babe,¡± he reported with a sigh. ¡°Text me the ingredients and the recipe. I¡¯ll go get them.¡±


    ¡°Alright, give me a minute,¡± she replied before hanging up.


    James leaned against the counter, staring at the mess around him. He wasn¡¯t just frustrated with Kate¡ªhe was frustrated with himself. He should have noticed the signs earlier, should have reached out before she fell this far.


    But now wasn¡¯t the time for guilt. He needed to help her get back on her feet. And it started with a bowl of soup.


    James exhaled deeply, his frustration bubbling as he rested his head against the cool surface of the kitchen counter. His mind was spinning. For years, he had worked with some of the most high-maintenance clients, from top models to eccentric billionaires. Yet, none of them had ever pushed him to his limits quite like this beautiful, infuriating woman.


    He peeled off his soiled shirt, the yellow stain glaring back at him like a badge of defeat, and tossed it into the washer. Now dressed in just a white tank top, he rolled his shoulders and prepared for the next task. The house was a mess, and if Kate was going to get better, she couldn¡¯t wake up to this chaos.


    As he grabbed a trash bag, his phone buzzed in his back pocket. Sliding it out, he glanced at the screen. A message from an ID labeled "BABY" lit up:


    Hangover Soup Recipe


    Ingredients:  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    - 2 tablespoons of ginger (anti-inflammatory properties)


    - 2 cloves of garlic (antioxidant and detoxifying properties)


    - 1 small onion (rich in antioxidants and fiber)


    - 2 carrots (high in vitamins and minerals)


    - 2 celery stalks (rich in antioxidants and electrolytes)


    - 4 cups of chicken or vegetable broth (replenishes electrolytes and fluids)


    - 1/2 cup of coconut water (replenishes electrolytes)


    - 1 tablespoon of honey (soothes the stomach)


    - 1 teaspoon of turmeric powder (anti-inflammatory properties)


    - Salt and pepper to taste


    - Fresh herbs like parsley or cilantro for garnish


    Instructions:


    1. In a large pot, saut¨¦ the ginger, garlic, onion, carrots, and celery in a little bit of oil until tender.


    2. Pour in the broth, coconut water, honey, and turmeric powder.


    3. Bring the mixture to a boil, then reduce the heat and let it simmer for 20-25 minutes.


    4. Season with salt and pepper to taste.


    5. Serve the soup hot, garnished with fresh herbs.


    James chuckled, shaking his head. Sometimes he forgot that his wife held a master¡¯s degree in biology and was one of the state¡¯s top biologists. She never missed an opportunity to educate, even through a simple recipe.


    He quickly typed back, ¡°Got it, thanks baby.¡±


    Her reply came almost instantly: ¡°Going strong. Get home in time for dinner.¡±


    James smiled softly at the message, sliding his phone back into his pocket. His wife always had a way of grounding him, even in moments like this. He glanced around the disarrayed house and rolled up his sleeves. There was no time to waste.


    ******


    Meanwhile, Nalani was upstairs, still nursing her sore foot. It throbbed dully, a constant reminder of her recent misadventure. Despite her discomfort, she felt more frustrated by the fact that everyone in the house seemed determined to coddle her. She was capable, and yet they wouldn¡¯t let her lift a finger.


    But even that annoyance paled compared to the fact that Elijah¡ªher current whirlwind of complications¡ªwas downstairs, comfortably bonding with her father over a basketball game. How had he managed to charm everyone in her family so effortlessly? Even Denise, her ever-skeptical sister, seemed to be warming up to him.


    Her phone buzzed, drawing her attention. It was a text from Elijah.


    ¡°I''m in front of your door, I can come in?¡± he texted.


    "Yes? I mean wait minute" she texted curtly.


    "You good?" Elijah replied.


    She sighed, pushing herself up from the bed. She was wearing an oversized basketball jersey, and nothing else, but she quickly wrapped herself in a blanket for modesty. ¡°Yeah, give me a minute,¡± she called out.


    Securing the blanket tightly around her chest, she opened the door to find Elijah standing there, holding a box of hot wings and a Dr. Spicy soda.


    ¡°Can I come in?¡± he asked, lifting the box slightly as if it were a peace offering.


    Nalani¡¯s eyes darted down the hallway. Her mom and Denise were clearly within earshot¡ªher mom dusting old picture frames and Denise unnecessarily scrubbing the stairs.


    ¡°It was your mom¡¯s idea,¡± Elijah said, breaking the awkward silence.


    ¡°I know,¡± Nalani replied with a scowl. ¡°And it pisses me off.¡± She stepped aside to let him in.


    Her room was an organized mess, a vibrant mix of chaos and color. The walls were adorned with posters of high-end fashion designers, models, and rockstars she idolized. LED lights cast a soft glow, contrasting the closed curtains that kept the room dim. Clothes were scattered across the floor, some near the closet, others draped over her bed.


    ¡°I was going to clean up,¡± she said defensively.


    ¡°Sure,¡± Elijah replied with a knowing smirk.


    ¡°I was!¡±


    ¡°I believe you.¡±


    He moved a pile of books and pictures off a chair before sitting down, handing her the box of wings. Nalani eagerly took it, sinking her teeth into one as Elijah pulled out his phone.


    ¡°I want to show you something,¡± he said, holding the screen toward her.


    The thumbnail was a familiar face¡ªNalia, the girl she¡¯d met at Os¡¯Lisa. Elijah tapped play, and the video began.


    ¡°Good afternoon, everyone,¡± Nalia¡¯s smooth, confident voice greeted. ¡°Welcome to Nalia¡¯s Vlog. As you all know, I¡¯ve been away, preparing for a major job interview. Speaking of interviews, let¡¯s talk about stealers¡ªyes, those people who think it¡¯s okay to take credit for someone else¡¯s work. Honestly, I think it should be a legal offense.¡±


    Nalani froze mid-bite.


    ¡°And yes, the stealer we¡¯re discussing today is Nalani Amara Colette Pablo,¡± Nalia continued.


    ¡°What the actual fuck?¡± Nalani exclaimed, placing the box of wings aside and sitting up straight.


    ¡°Calm down,¡± Elijah urged, trying to take back his phone, but she held on to it, transfixed by the screen.


    The video continued, showing distorted clips of their encounter at Os¡¯Lisa, conveniently edited to make Nalani look like the aggressor.


    ¡°She not only stole my gig but confronted me to rub it in my face,¡± Nalia¡¯s voice accused.


    ¡°You know this is not true!¡± Elijah called out trying to defend her.


    ¡°Tell that to her three million followers on Vibestream!¡± Nalani shot back, pacing the room.


    ¡°I can fix this,¡± Elijah said firmly, trying to reach for her hand.


    ¡°No, you don¡¯t have to.¡± Nalani¡¯s voice was sharp, but her eyes were desperate. ¡°I¡¯ll figure something out. Please, you have to go.¡±


    ¡°Nalani, we can work this through¡ª¡±


    ¡°Leave, Elijah,¡± she cut him off, her voice trembling. ¡°You¡¯ve done enough for me already, and I don¡¯t want to drag you into this mess.¡±


    "If you would just listen to me¡ª"


    "Please, Elijah." Nalani''s voice cracked as she stepped back, her eyes shining with tears she desperately tried to hold back. "I can''t do this anymore," she whispered, her tone fragile but firm.


    Elijah blinked, his breath hitching. "Nalani, just hear me out¡ª"


    "No!" she interrupted, her voice rising. "We¡¯re not friends, Elijah. Stop pretending we are. Stop pretending that any of this means something to you!"


    The weight of her words hung in the air like an oppressive fog. Elijah¡¯s mouth opened to protest, but no sound came out. He stared at her, his usually calm demeanor faltering. For a moment, he seemed as if he wanted to fight back, to push through the wall she''d built, but then he simply sighed.


    Standing up, he walked toward the door but hesitated with his hand on the handle. He turned to face her, his voice low and almost tender. "You know, you don¡¯t have to pretend to be so strong all the time. It¡¯s okay to let people in. It¡¯s okay to trust."


    Nalani closed her eyes, her back leaning against the wall. "Thank you," she muttered, barely audible, before swiftly shutting the door in his face.


    Elijah stood there for a moment, his hand hovering over the handle as he heard her muffled sobs through the wood. His heart ached, every instinct telling him to burst back in and hold her, but he didn¡¯t. Instead, he clenched his jaw, shoved his hands into his pockets, and walked away.


    As he descended the stairs, Mama and Denise stood at the base, their concerned eyes following him. They¡¯d seen the entire exchange, though they hadn¡¯t heard the words.


    "She¡¯ll be alright," Mama finally said, her voice filled with a mixture of sympathy and understanding.


    Elijah nodded curtly, his steps not faltering. "Goodnight," he muttered, and with that, he was gone, the front door clicking shut behind him.


    ******


    Kate''s Morning.


    Kate groaned as she woke up, the pounding headache a harsh reminder of the previous night¡¯s escapade. She sat up slowly, wincing at the brightness of the room. The aroma of something warm and savory hit her, cutting through the fog in her mind.


    James walked in, holding a steaming bowl of soup. The broth was a vibrant golden yellow, flecked with bits of fresh herbs and a delicate sprinkle of turmeric. The scent of simmered ginger, garlic, and onions mingled with the sweetness of carrots and coconut water, creating an enticing fragrance that made her stomach rumble despite the nausea.


    "Here," James said, setting the bowl in her hands. "Hangover soup. It¡¯ll help."


    Kate squinted up at him, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "You? Cook? That¡¯s new."


    James chuckled, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. "Didn¡¯t say I cooked it. My wife sent me the recipe. Martha helped."


    Kate winced. "Martha? God, she must think I¡¯m a train wreck."


    "She¡¯s still cleaning up your mess from last night," James said, his tone neutral but edged with concern.


    Kate groaned, burying her face in her hands. "I was just going for one drink, I swear. I didn¡¯t mean to¡ª"


    "Katey," James interrupted gently but firmly. "We¡¯ve had this talk before. It always starts with one drink. You know it doesn¡¯t solve anything."


    Kate nodded silently, her fingers gripping the warm bowl. "What about the contract?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.


    "Gone," James said with a shrug. "But honestly, they can go to hell. I¡¯m not letting some shady contract define your worth."


    "Thanks, James."


    "Always got you, Katey."


    Kate took a tentative sip of the soup, the warmth spreading through her body. "So, what now?"


    James smirked, pulling out his phone. "Well, stumbled on something interesting yesterday." He played a video, the screen lighting up with Nalia¡¯s vlog.


    Kate¡¯s eyebrows shot up. "Is this the same girl who¡ª"


    "Yup," James interrupted.


    Kate rolled her eyes. "You know, the girl she talks about¡ªNalani actually reached out to me on ProLink a while back. Wanted to collaborate. I told her to screw off."


    James froze. "You what?"


    Kate shrugged, unbothered. "Didn¡¯t think it was worth my time."


    "Katey," James groaned, pacing the room. "We need to fix that. Now."


    "Fix it? She¡¯s probably moved on."


    "Trust me," James said with a confident smirk. "She hasn¡¯t. She¡¯ll come back. And when she does, we¡¯re taking the deal."


    ******


    Elijah¡¯s Homecoming


    Elijah parked his car in the garage, the soft hum of the engine fading into silence. He stepped out, exhausted and hungry, only to find the lights in the house eerily dim.


    "Mom?" he called out, flipping the switch.


    Margaret sat in the living room, her face partially obscured by shadows.


    "Jesus Christ, Mom!" Elijah jumped back, clutching his chest. "What are you doing sitting here in the dark?"


    Margaret didn¡¯t answer immediately. Instead, she studied him, her eyes sharp and probing. She wore a simple gray flowered pattern house gown. "I saw something today," she began.


    Elijah stiffened. "What?"


    "That girl¡ªNalia," she said, her tone heavy with accusation. "I saw her in a video. She talked about some girl that stole her gig and funny enough a car that looks exactly like your car. Care to explain?"


    Elijah sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It¡¯s nothing, Mom. Just a misunderstanding."


    Margaret¡¯s voice rose. "Nothing? Elijah, people are already connecting you to her! Do you know how damaging this could be?"


    "Let them," Elijah shot back, his tone cold.


    Margaret stood, her hands trembling. "You¡¯re my son. I won¡¯t let you ruin your reputation for some girl who¡ª"


    "Then stop calling me your son!" Elijah¡¯s voice echoed through the room, cutting her off.


    Silence.


    Margaret¡¯s face crumpled, the weight of his words hitting her like a blow.


    Elijah grabbed a box of cereal from the kitchen and turned to leave. "Don¡¯t believe everything you see on the internet, Mom," he muttered before disappearing up the stairs.


    Margaret sank onto the couch, tears streaming down her face as the sound of blaring rock music filled the house. She buried her face in her hands, whispering to herself, "Where did it all go wrong?" .