Lana’s POV
The quiet hum of morning in the atelier was Lana’s favorite sound — sketchbooks flipping, the gentle click of heels across marble, fabric rustling as seamstresses moved between workstations. It was the kind of calm that came after success, the breath between battles.
She was adjusting the drape on a new design when the calm shattered.
“Miss Mirelle,” a staffer burst in, breathless. “There’s a situation in the showroom.”
Lana didn’t look up. “Handle it. I’m busy.”
“It’s… a customer. Demanding to speak with the designer. Says it’s urgent. Something about a complaint.”
Lana sighed. “We have a client relations manager for that exact reason.”
“He’s… very insistent,” the assistant said, lowering her voice. “And he’s with a very high-profile model. Influencer type. Says she had
