Caught Between Two Hearts

CHAPTER THREE

MAE

The next day, I had barely stepped into the atelier when my colleagues began applauding. For a moment, I froze, I thought I had walked into the wrong building.

“Mae!” Mia squealed. “You were incredible last night!”

“Incredible?”

“You slapped Ella Mayfield on live television!”

“Somebody streamed the entire confrontation online,” another assistant blurted excitedly from across the room.

“Every entertainment channel is talking about it this morning;”

“There are already memes,” someone else added while trying not to laugh…

While everyone else found it amusing, panic flooded through me; Ella Mayfield was one of the most powerful socialites in the country, and I had humiliated her in front of cameras.

“This isn’t funny;” I whispered in fear.

“Do you people understand how powerful her family is?”

“She deserved it;” Mia replied immediately. “She destroyed your dress first.”

Others agreed, but their support did little to calm me. The only thing keeping me from completely falling apart was remembering Patrick Sterling’s expression at the gala. He hadn’t looked angry. If anything, he had looked interested. Still, that didn’t erase the danger of what I had done.

“It won’t end well for me;” I muttered beneath my breath. Mia stepped closer immediately...

“Stop thinking like that, you defended yourself.”

“Against someone rich enough to destroy my career for fun...”

“Mae...”

“I’m serious;” I interrupted her immediately.

“People like Ella don’t lose publicly and move on.”

Before anyone could respond, the atelier doors slammed open. Miss Lemon stormed inside, her face dark with fury.

“What exactly did you think you were doing last night?” she demanded.

“I defended myself.” I spoke defensively.

“You humiliated Ella Mayfield on camera!”

“She destroyed my dress first.”

Miss Lemon stepped closer. “Do you know how many investors called me this morning? Do you

know how many are threatening to pull out because of this scandal?”

The room fell silent.

“She could destroy this atelier with one phone call.”

I tried to explain, but a sharp slap landed across my face. Pain exploded through my cheek; Mia

gasped.

“Enough,” Miss Lemon snapped. Then she looked at me coldly. “You’re fired.”

“You can’t fire me,” I replied firmly despite the burning pain still spreading across my face.

Miss Lemon smiled slowly... Cruelly. “... and who said so?” she asked.

“Your contract ends today.”

The words hurt more than the slap. Every dream I had built existed inside those walls. Yet arguing wouldn’t change anything. Quietly, I packed my belongings and left.

***

I walked aimlessly along the crowded pedestrian lane while barely noticing the noise of the city around me; The cold afternoon wind brushed against my face while strangers hurried past carrying shopping bags, coffee cups, and conversations that sounded painfully distant inside my head.

“You’re fired...” Miss Lemon’s voice kept echoing in my mind.

I tightened my grip around the box holding the last few things I managed to pack from the atelier; sketchbooks, measuring tape, fabric samples…

Pieces of a dream that suddenly had nowhere to belong. As I walked, memories surfaced.

The city had terrified me during the first few months after leaving Saint Mercy’s Orphanage because everything felt too expensive for someone who arrived carrying a suitcase and a dream nobody else could see. I still remembered clutching the small envelope Mother Superior pressed into my hands the morning I was leaving.

“It’s not much;” she had said, “but it’s enough to help you start.”

Inside, were the savings the orphanage had gathered for me over the years. I cried through most of the bus ride into the city. Fashion school wasn’t easy; most students came from wealthy families. They understood luxury brands and elite fashion culture.

Tiredlessly, I practiced stitches until my fingers started cramping painfully; I sewed damaged practice materials back together because I couldn’t afford replacement. While others socialized, I worked; spent endless nights perfecting my craft. That was how Miss Lemon noticed me; in her words, my designs, felt real... emotional, with a touch of nature.

“You made this?” she had asked while studying one of my sketches.

I nodded nervously.

She studied the drawing silently for several minutes. Also carefully studying the dress I made out of the sketch, she said;

“You lack confidence, but your talent is undeniable.”

A few weeks later, she offered me an apprenticeship. At the time, it felt like a miracle. For years I

gave everything to that atelier. My time; my energy; my dreams, and now it was gone. I swallowed painfully while my memories faded. The atelier had been my entire world. My source of livelihood came from the commissions Miss Lemon paid me for every client's job I completed successfully.

Sometimes grateful clients go the extra mile to secretly tip me extra for my work. The truth was, Miss Lemon had never been as generous as she pretended. Whenever these clients showed their appreciation, she often found a way to take the money. The rare times I managed to keep some money for myself, felt like survival. Now even that was gone. No job; no connections; no reputation. Nothing at all.

Being chosen to showcase my designs at the Luxe Fashion Gala was a rare opportunity she had secured for me; which would've have changed my life, if at all my designs made it to the spotlight. Instead, it destroyed it; Ella Mayfield had ruined my dresses, my career, and possibly my future. Maybe this city was never meant for someone like me.

Lost completely in thought, I stepped forward absentmindedly and moved straight off the pedestrian lane. A sharp scream suddenly pierced through the street.

“WATCH OUT!”

I looked up too late.

A black car sped wildly toward me while the driver fought desperately against the steering wheel. The terrified sound of tires screeching violently against the road echoed through the street. “The brakes failed!” the driver shouted desperately. Everything happened too fast...