The Queen's Back

As she stepped through the doors, she immediately spotted Maxwell waiting for her.

The ride to The Designscape was tense, with worry clouding Mona's eyes. The old saying "when it rains, it pours" echoed in her mind, feeling painfully true in that moment.

Watching the city blur past the window, Mona found herself grappling with a growing suspicion. The more she thought about it, the less she believed that the fire at The Designscape was a mere accident. Maxwell gently placed his hand over Mona's. "Don't worry," he said softly. "Whatever happens, we'll get through it."

Feeling the warmth of his touch, Mona instinctively leaned her Head on Maxwell's shoulder. She needed support now more than ever.

Maxwell's hand moved to her back, offering comforting pats. From the front seat, Nigel observed the couple, realizing their relationship was far from the loveless arrangement others believed it to be.

When they arrived, The Designscape was still smoldering, the scene chaotic with police presence. Mona's heart sank. It felt like everything was lost.

Elara rushed to Mona, desperation in her voice, "Mona, you're finally here. Our dresses are gone. What are we going to do?"

Mona knew she couldn't afford to panic. She needed to stay calm, especially with Maxwell by her side, lending her strength. Taking a deep breath, she said with forced composure, "Let's not jump to conclusions. We should hear what the police have to say first." As she surveyed the damage, a strange sense of relief washed over her. It could have been so much worse. The fire had been contained to their floor; the entire building could have gone up in flames. And most importantly, no one had been hurt. Before long, the police had determined the cause of the fire. A burning candle had tipped over onto some fabric, igniting the blaze.

Upon hearing the police report, Elara felt a wave of crushing guilt wash over her. The candle that had caused the fire was hers, brought to create a soft, ambient light she loved working in. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine it would lead to such devastation. Elara turned to Mona and Vespera, her voice trembling with remorse. "I'm so sorry. It's all my fault. I never imagined the candle could cause a fire."

On the way to the studio, Mona had suspected foul play. But seeing Elara's genuine distress changed her mind. Over the past few weeks, she had come to know Elara as a sincere, if somewhat naive, person. There was no way she could have done this intentionally. As Mona and Vespera remained silent, Elara's guilt intensified. She wished she had never brought the candle, though she couldn't fathom how it had ignited the dresses. "I know it's my fault," she said, her fingers intertwined tightly. "I'll do anything to make it right." Vespera's cold voice cut through the air. "What's the use of saying this now? It's too late. We have to admit defeat."

"I'm sorry," Elara repeated, at a loss for words. Her hands were clasped so tightly her knuckles had turned white.

Mona noticed Elara's anguish and felt a pang in her own heart. Looking into Elara's tear-filled eyes, she said, "Don't be sad. Dry your tears. We still have a week, right? We can make a new dress. How will we know if we can succeed if we don't try?"

She knew a week was barely enough time, but it was the only solution she could think of at the moment.

"Mona, you're right-human potential is limitless, and we can definitely succeed!" Elara declared with determination,

secretly resolving to work tirelessly for the next seven days, even if it meant sacrificing sleep and meals to finish the dress.

With both Mona and Elara on board, Vespera nodded her agreement as well.

Surveying the scene, Mona felt a glimmer of hope. The fire damage wasn't as severe as she'd feared. Most of the fabric was still usable. They were only missing the white floral fabric for the waist of the dress.

As they stood amidst the ashes of their previous work, a new sense of purpose began to emerge. This setback, while devastating, had ignited a fire of determination in each of them. They had one week to turn this disaster into triumph, and they were ready to pour every ounce of their creativity and energy into the challenge.

For reasons unknown, the lotus silk Mona desperately needed was suddenly out of stock everywhere. Just days ago, it had been plentiful, but now she had scoured several stores without success.

A kind-hearted shop owner, seeing Mona's urgency, suggested she try her luck at a factory on the outskirts of Nathontown's northern district.

Grateful for the lead, Mona immediately hailed a taxi. Time was of the essence; even after acquiring the fabric, crafting the flowers would take precious hours.

Arriving at the industrial complex, Mona approached the factory without hesitation. An elderly man answered her knock, informing her that while they did have lotus silk, the person in charge was en route and he couldn't authorize a sale.

"I can wait," Mona replied with a forced smile. As she settled in, she messaged Maxwell about her delayed return and her current location.

After about fifteen minutes, a figure appeared at the door. To Mona's dismay, it was Gordon.Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

She immediately regretted not checking her horoscope that morning; the day had been nothing but bad luck.

"Well, well. If it isn't my dear sister-in-law, looking to buy my lotus silk," Gordon smirked, emphasizing his ownership.

"Yes, would you be willing to sell me some, brother?" Mona asked, swallowing her pride.

Gordon's eyes roamed over Mona's face, lingering on her swan-like neck. His gaze made her skin crawl, and she had to resist the urge to slap him.

Mona felt exposed under Gordon's blatant scrutiny, her skin crawling with discomfort. The words bubbled up inside her,

out?' 'What are you staring at? Do you want me to gouge your eyes

But the threat remained unspoken, trapped behind gritted teeth. As much as she longed to unleash her fury, to slap that smug look off Gordon's face, Mona knew she couldn't. The lotus silk he possessed was too valuable, too crucial to her plans. Gordon finally finished his thorough examination of Mona, his eyes gleaming with a satisfaction that made her skin crawl. "I could be persuaded to sell," he said, rubbing his fingers together suggestively. "But the price..."

Mona steeled herself. "Name your price," she said, prepared for the worst. She knew of no other source for lotus silk in Nathontown, and no other fabric could achieve the effect she needed. Even if it meant taking a loss, she was willing to pay. Gordon chuckled, a sound that sent chills down Mona's spine. "Money? Do I look like I'm in need of money, dear sister-in-law?"

His eyes bore into Mona, so intense she felt he might drill holes right through her. The tension in the room was palpable.

Swallowing her revulsion, Mona forced herself to ask, "What do you want then?" She clenched her fists, fighting the urge to lash out. One more word from Gordon, and she feared she might lose control and bash his head in.