SARAH'S POV
Sarah's hands shook as she pinned the final sketch to the board.
Not from fear. From three days without real sleep and the kind of adrenaline that comes from knowing your entire future depends on the next seven days.
The warehouse was empty except for her. Her team had left hours ago, making jokes about her working herself into an early grave. They didn't understand. They had families to go home to, bills that wouldn't vanish if they clocked out. Sarah had a deadline that felt like it could swallow her whole if she stopped moving.
She stepped back and stared at the mood board. Twenty sketches spread across the wall like pieces of her soul. Each one represented sleepless nights. Fabric samples from suppliers who barely returned her calls. Collections designed on a budget so small it was practically a joke. And yet somehow, she'd made something beautiful. Something that didn't feel cheap or desperate. Something that felt like the future.
Chen Designs had been her company for exactly three years. Three years since she'd left everything she knew and moved to Brooklyn with two hundred dollars and a dream that everyone said was naive.
Her mother had cried when she told her she was starting a fashion business from a warehouse. Not sad tears. The kind that came from watching your daughter believe in something completely when you knew how much it could hurt if it fell apart.
But Sarah wasn't made for regular life. She couldn't work a nine-to-five job where someone else controlled her ideas. Couldn't wear someone else's vision like a costume. When she was seven, her mom brought home scraps of fabric from the textile factory where she worked. Sarah had spent the entire night designing dresses for her dolls, sketching on the back of old receipts, imagining a world where clothes could be beautiful and kind to the planet at the same time.
That dream had followed her into adulthood like a ghost that refused to leave her alone.
Her phone buzzed.
Sarah's stomach tightened. It was almost one in the morning. Nothing good happened at one in the morning. Her mother was fine, she'd texted an hour ago. Her best friend Maya knew better than to bother her before the investor pitch next week.
She picked up her phone and saw an email notification.
The sender was James Hart. Venture capitalist. Kind eyes. The only person in the investment world who'd actually listened to her pitch instead of watching her like she was a cute kid with an unrealistic dream.
She opened it with shaky fingers.
Your vision is revolutionary. I've been showing your work around. Two major investors want to meet. You're about to change everything.
Sarah read the email three times.
Changed everything. As in, Chen Designs might actually survive. As in, she might not have to work three part-time jobs forever while designing at night. As in, her mother might finally be able to work just one job instead of the three that were slowly destroying her back.
She smiled at her reflection in the dark window. The girl looking back at her had dark circles under her eyes and fabric dust in her hair. She looked exhausted and wild and completely alive.
This was happening. After three years of believing in something nobody else believed in, the universe was finally saying yes.
Sarah turned back to the sketches, already thinking about how she'd present them. She'd wear the dress she designed herself. The one made from leftover fabric she'd salvaged from a supplier. It wasn't expensive but it told a story. It showed that beauty didn't require waste.
Her phone rang.
Not a text. Not an email. An actual call from an unknown number.
Sarah hesitated. At one in the morning, unknown calls were usually bad news. Wrong numbers. Scammers. Her mother's heart skipped a beat even though she knew her mom was safe at home.
She answered anyway.
"Hello?"
"Ms. Chen?"
The voice was deep and smooth. Like expensive whiskey sounds. Like power had a sound and that was it.
"This is she," Sarah said, her brain already running through possibilities. Who was this? How did they get her number?
"I'm Dominic Steele."
The name meant something. She knew it did. Something from the business news she scrolled through on her phone between orders. Something big and important and completely out of her league.
"I'm calling because I've been watching your work," he continued, and there was something hungry in his voice. "Your sustainable luxury concept. I'm impressed."
Sarah's heart was suddenly beating too fast. "Thank you. I'm glad you—"
"I need to see it in person. Tonight. Your warehouse. Right now."
It wasn't a question.
"It's one in the morning," Sarah said, which was obvious. Which was also probably not the smartest thing to say to someone important who was calling her at one in the morning.
"I'm aware of the time, Ms. Chen. I'm also aware that you're still awake. I'm ten minutes away."
He didn't wait for her to respond. Just hung up.
Sarah stared at her phone like it might explain what had just happened. Dominic Steele. She actually knew who that was. Billionaire. Real estate empire. The kind of person who appeared in business magazines looking cold and untouchable. The kind of person who didn't call designers at one in the morning unless something serious was happening.
Unless he wanted something.
Or unless he was going to destroy her.