Chapter 8 - THE WOMAN WEARING MY FUTURERebecca came to the atelier on Thursday morning.
I was standing beside the fitting platform, adjusting the hem of a pale blue coat, when the receptionist called upstairs.
"Elena, there's a Rebecca Hale here to see you."
For a moment, I considered refusing.
Then I looked at the unfinished coat.
I thought about the employees who had spent weeks perfecting its construction.
And I decided I was tired of allowing Rebecca to choose the setting for every confrontation.
"Send her up."
Maya appeared beside me.
"Are you sure?"
"No. But I want to hear what she has to say."
Rebecca entered five minutes later.
She wore a camel-colored coat, expensive heels, and a smile that suggested she believed the room already belonged to her.
The sapphire rested against her throat.
Again.
I looked at it briefly.
Then back at her face.
"Rebecca."
"Elena. This place is lovely."
"Thank you."
She surveyed the sewing tables.
"Smaller than I expected."
"We prefer spending money on craftsmanship instead of marble floors."
Her smile tightened.
"May we speak privately?"
"Maya can stay."
Rebecca glanced at my friend.
"I'd rather not have an audience."
"Then say what you came to say."
Maya folded her arms.
Rebecca sighed.
"Fine."
She placed a cream envelope on the table.
"I wanted to make you an offer personally."
I didn't touch it.
"An offer for what?"
"Your remaining shares."
The room seemed to go silent.
I had known the proposal was coming.
Hearing it from her mouth still felt like being slapped.
Rebecca continued.
"Mercer Ventures believes your label could become much more successful with the right resources."
"Those resources include you?"
"Naturally."
I looked at the envelope.
"How much?"
She named a figure.
I almost laughed.
It was barely enough to cover the brand's equipment, existing inventory, and contracted orders.
It assigned almost no value to the intellectual property, goodwill, or years of work that made the company recognizable.
"That's insulting."
"It's practical."
"Your offer is based on an artificial crisis."
Her expression sharpened.
"I don't know what you mean."
"The manufacturing suspension. The missing payments. The revised valuation."
Rebecca leaned against the table.
"Elena, business can be ruthless. Surely you know that."
"I do."
"Then understand that sometimes a graceful exit is wiser than a public fight."
Maya stepped forward.
"Are you threatening her?"
Rebecca ignored her.
She looked directly at me.
"Grant has invested a great deal in this business."
"And?"
"He deserves to see a return."
I thought about the years Grant had praised himself for helping me.
The introductions he'd arranged.
The advice he'd given.
The investment vehicle he'd encouraged me to accept.
I had been grateful.
Now I wondered whether some people considered generosity a debt that could be collected whenever convenient.
"I've never denied the value of Mercer's investment," I said. "But it purchased a minority stake, not ownership of my work."
Rebecca smiled.
"Your husband doesn't seem to share your concerns."
I looked at her.
"Is that what you came to tell me?"
"Partly."
She touched the sapphire.
The movement was so familiar now that I wondered whether she practiced it in front of a mirror.
"Elena, I know you think I've taken something from you."
I felt my face go cold.
"Have you?"
"Grant and I loved each other long before you entered his life."
"Then perhaps he should have married you."
Her expression flickered.
"He would have, under different circumstances."
"Then those circumstances must have changed a great deal."
She stepped closer.
"You don't understand our history."
"You're right. I understand my marriage."
Rebecca lowered her voice.
"Do you?"
Maya started forward.
I lifted a hand.
"Let her speak."
Rebecca smiled faintly.
"Grant is a man who needs someone who understands the demands of his world. Someone who knows what his family expects."
"And that's you?"
"I've always understood him."
I thought about the anniversary dinner.
The cake.
The ultrasound photograph.
The way Grant had stood in our dining room defending the woman now trying to buy my company.
"Understanding someone isn't the same as loving them," I said.
Rebecca's smile disappeared.
"You think you know love?"
"I know it doesn't require humiliating another woman to prove you're important."
For the first time, genuine anger crossed her face.
"Grant never forgot me."
"I know."
"He called me when my marriage ended."
"I know."
"He bought the necklace because he remembered what it meant."
I swallowed.
"I know."
She leaned forward.
"And when everything is settled, he'll choose me."
I looked at her for a long moment.
"Rebecca, you can have the man who keeps making you compete for his attention."
Her eyes widened.
"But you cannot have my company."
I slid the envelope back toward her.
"Take your offer and leave."
Rebecca stared at me.
Then her expression changed.
The arrogance returned.
"Be careful, Elena."
"About what?"
"You've become very emotional lately."
My heart skipped.
The word sounded deliberate.
"Women in your position sometimes make decisions they later regret."
I kept my face expressionless.
She glanced toward my purse, resting beside the cutting table.
Then smiled.
"I hope you're taking care of yourself."
A cold sensation spread through my chest.
She knew something.
Maybe not everything.
But enough to frighten me.
I stepped closer.
"Whatever you think you know about my private life has nothing to do with this company."
Rebecca's eyes glittered.
"Everything becomes relevant when there's enough money involved."
Maya moved between us.
"Get out."
Rebecca picked up her envelope.
"I'll give you until Monday."
"There won't be an answer on Monday," I said.
She turned toward the elevator.
At the door, she looked back.
"There's one more thing."
I waited.
"Grant asked me to return the necklace."
My breath caught.
Rebecca smiled.
"I told him it would be cruel to take back a gift."
I stared at her.
"Do whatever you want with it."
Her smile faltered.
"You're really giving up that easily?"
I looked around my studio.
At the employees who trusted me.
At the clothes we'd designed.
At the life I'd created before Grant ever put a ring on my finger.
"I'm not giving up, Rebecca."
I met her eyes.
"I'm finally fighting for the right things."
She left without another word.
Thirty minutes later, Peter called.
His voice sounded strained.
"Elena, are you sitting down?"
"No."
"You should."
I gripped the edge of the worktable.
"What happened?"
"Our operating reserve account has been placed under a temporary administrative hold."
I closed my eyes.
"How much is available?"
He hesitated.
"Not enough to cover next week's payroll."
Through the glass wall, I watched Rosa laugh with one of our apprentices.
Then Peter said:
May you like
"If we can't release those funds by Friday, forty-three people may not receive their paychecks."
And I had less than forty-eight hours to prevent the woman who stole my anniversary from stealing their livelihoods, too.
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