ELYRA.
Even hours later, the anger I felt sat inside my chest like a burning coal that refused to cool down. Every time I thought about those stolen designs, about the broken instruments in my studio, about my work being thrown across the internet like cheap gossip, my hands clenched automatically.
I paced slowly around my living room, phone in hand.
“This is unbelievable,” I muttered under my breath.
The whole situation still felt unreal.
One moment I had been planning my next big move—thinking about profits, expansion, future clients. The next moment everything had been thrown into chaos.
My phone buzzed.
I looked down at the screen.
My assistant again.
I sighed before answering the call.
Before she could even say anything, frustration slipped out from my lips.
“I swear, I'm s
