My certainty lasted until 9:15 AM.
The head of production called from our primary factory. Machines and raised voices filled the background.
“Mr. Thorne, we have a catastrophic failure. Every Starlight Gown we've cut is tearing at the seams. The structural integrity is zero.”
I stood up. “The design was flawless.”
“The drawing is. The load-bearing calculations for the bias cut are missing. Without the technical data, the pattern can't carry its own weight.”
He lowered his voice. “Serena is here, sir. She doesn't understand what the tailors are asking.”
I pictured her surrounded by master tailors, clutching Chloe's sketches while waiting for someone else to explain the missing calculations.
The factory was burning through thousands of dollars of fabric per hour.
I ended the call and
