Chapter 2: Six Months of Dreams on a Marble Floor
Vanessa snatched the portfolio from my hands.
"Let's see what you're so desperate to protect.""
"Please give it back.""
She opened the folder.
My drawings slipped out, scattering across the marble.
Chloe laughed.
Madison pulled out her phone.
"Oh my God. Look at these.""
She held up a sketch of a red evening gown.
"Is this supposed to be couture?""
I reached for it.
"That's an original design. Please be careful.""
Vanessa took the drawing from Madison.
"Original?""
She examined it with exaggerated seriousness.
"Do you know what original means, Maya?""
I said nothing.
"It means something that hasn't been done before. Not something copied from a cheap internet tutorial.""
"Nobody copied anything.""
Vanessa's expression hardened.
"Don't raise your voice at me.""
"I'm not.""
She looked at Chloe.
"Did you hear that? Apparently, she's already developed an attitude.""
Madison laughed.
Then Vanessa dropped the drawing.
Her red heel came down on its center.
I watched the paper bend beneath her shoe.
"Stop!""
My voice echoed through the corridor.
Vanessa looked delighted.
"What's wrong?""
"That's one of my original designs.""
She shifted her weight.
The heel tore through the paper.
"Then perhaps you should have made something worth protecting.""
I dropped to my knees.
I started collecting the pages.
One by one.
My hands trembled as I tried to smooth out the creases.
Vanessa stepped forward and deliberately scattered another handful.
"Look at this pathetic little nerd!""
Her friends burst into laughter.
I looked up.
"Why are you doing this?""
"Because someone needs to teach you your place.""
She pointed toward the entrance.
"Get out of my department.""
"I haven't done anything wrong.""
That was when her face changed.
She grabbed my braid.
Pain exploded across my scalp.
"GET OUT!""
"Let go of me!""
Vanessa tightened her grip and pulled me backward.
My glasses slipped down my nose.
My shoulder struck the edge of a nearby display table.
I cried out.
"You're hurting me!""
"Then stop resisting!""
Chloe laughed nervously.
"Vanessa, people are watching.""
"Let them watch.""
A young man carrying fabric samples stopped several feet away.
"What's happening?""
Vanessa didn't release me.
"This girl is trespassing.""
"I'm here for an interview," I managed to say.
Vanessa pulled harder.
"She was asked to leave.""
The young man looked uncomfortable.
"Should I call security?""
"Yes," Vanessa snapped.
"And tell them to remove her.""
I reached backward.
One of my drawings had landed near the base of the display table.
It was the silver-and-black evening gown.
My favorite.
The one I had spent nearly three months perfecting.
It wasn't just a dress.
It was a memory.
A promise.
A piece of my mother.
"Please," I whispered.
"Just let me take that one.""
Vanessa followed my gaze.
She looked down at the page.
Then at me.
And deliberately stepped over it.
"Your rubbish stays here.""
Two security guards arrived.
One was a broad-shouldered man named Marcus.
"What's the situation?""
Vanessa released my hair and immediately adjusted her jacket.
"This woman entered a restricted area and became aggressive when I asked her to leave.""
I stared at her.
"What? That's not true!""
Marcus looked at my scattered papers.
Then at my red, swollen scalp.
"Ma'am, do you need medical assistance?""
Vanessa interrupted.
"She needs to be removed. Immediately.""
I tried to explain.
"I had an interview this morning. Patricia and Daniel can confirm—"
Vanessa folded her arms.
"Those people are busy. Don't waste their time.""
Marcus looked uncertain.
"Can you show us your visitor identification?""
I reached into my cardigan pocket.
My visitor badge was still there.
I held it up.
"See? I'm registered.""
Vanessa snatched it from my hand.
She examined it.
Then smiled.
"Interesting.""
She tore the badge in half.
My stomach dropped.
"What are you doing?""
"Your visit is over.""
Marcus looked at the torn badge.
"Vanessa, I don't think—"
"Marcus, are you questioning my authority?""
He hesitated.
"No, ma'am.""
"Then do your job.""
The guards escorted me toward the elevators.
I kept turning around, looking at the drawings scattered across the floor.
"Please! My portfolio!""
Nobody moved.
The elevator doors closed.
I saw Vanessa standing in the corridor, laughing with her friends.
Then the doors shut completely.
I had never felt so small.
When I reached the lobby, I sat on a bench near the entrance.
My scalp hurt.
My glasses were crooked.
My portfolio was gone.
I tried calling the recruitment office, but nobody answered.
I wiped my face with my sleeve.
Then I noticed something.
A small silver pin had fallen from my hair.
It was the one my mother had given me when I turned twelve.
A tiny pair of scissors.
She used to wear it on her apron.
I picked it up and held it in my palm.
For a moment, I could almost hear her voice.
One day, people are going to wear your dreams.
I closed my fingers around the pin.
"I tried, Mom.""
My voice broke.
"I really tried.""
Outside, a black luxury car pulled up to the main entrance.
The driver stepped out and opened the rear door.
A tall man wearing a charcoal suit emerged.
He was in his late fifties, with silver hair, a perfectly tailored coat, and the kind of quiet authority that made people instinctively move aside.
Two executives hurried toward him.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Sterling.""
He nodded.
Arthur Sterling.
The chairman of Sterling Fashion International.
The man who had built an international fashion empire from a single tailoring workshop.
The man whose name appeared on luxury collections across the world.
He had returned from Europe unexpectedly.
And nobody in the lobby had known he was coming.
Arthur paused near the reception desk.
"Where is the creative director?""
The receptionist stood immediately.
"On the twenty-second floor, sir.""
"And the recruitment team?""
"Also on twenty-two.""
He nodded.
Then something on the floor caught his attention.
A sheet of paper had slipped beneath a decorative bench.
He bent down and picked it up.
It was a sketch.
A silver-and-black evening gown.
The bodice was sculpted like overlapping petals, with delicate black embroidery flowing into a dramatic silver train.
Arthur stopped walking.
His expression changed.
He turned the page over.
There was a small handwritten note in the corner.
For Grace. You taught me that beauty is not about being seen. It's about making something worth remembering.
Below it was a signature.
*Maya Carter.*
Arthur stared at the name.
Then he examined the drawing again.
"Who created this?""
The receptionist looked confused.
"I'm not sure, sir.""
Arthur raised his eyes.
"Where did you find it?""
"I believe it was dropped during an incident.""
"What incident?""
Before she could answer, the elevator doors opened.
Vanessa stepped out.
Her smile was wide.
"Mr. Sterling! What a wonderful surprise.""
Arthur didn't smile.
He held up the drawing.
"Vanessa, do you recognize this?""
She glanced at it.
For a fraction of a second, her expression froze.
Then she laughed.
"Oh, that? Some visitor's amateur sketch. Security removed her a few minutes ago.""
Arthur looked at her.
"Removed her?""
"She was causing trouble in the design department.""
He examined the torn edge of the paper.
"Who is Maya Carter?""
Vanessa's smile returned.
"Nobody important, sir.""
Arthur looked down at the signature.
Then back at Vanessa.
"Nobody important?""
"Just an applicant. Not particularly qualified.""
Arthur said nothing.
He carefully folded the paper once and placed it inside his leather folder.
Then he turned toward the elevator.
"Bring me the complete recruitment records for every junior design applicant interviewed today.""
Vanessa blinked.
"Of course, sir. But I should mention that—"
"And Vanessa?""
"Yes?""
His voice was quiet.
"Find out why a young woman's drawings are lying torn across my lobby.""
May you like
Vanessa's smile disappeared.
For the first time that afternoon, she looked afraid.
Related Stories
