Eloise – First Person POV
The smell of smoke still clung to my clothes. It had seeped into the fibers, into my hair, my skin. Even though the fire department had left hours ago, the scent was a constant, nauseating reminder of how close I had come to losing everything.
From my place behind the glass door of my office, I could see the cluster of reporters now outside the atelier. Microphones were raised like weapons, camera flashes strobing across the windows. Their voices were muffled through the thick glass, but every so often, one would hit a pitch that pierced through —
“Eloise! Is it true the fire was set intentionally?”
“Are you filing for bankruptcy after this?”
“What about the Dior collection? Is it all gone?”
I curled further into the small loveseat in the corner, pulling my
