George’s POV…I pace back and forth outside the restroom, the corridor seeming to close in around me as my mind spirals with worry and apprehension. Each passing moment feels like an eternity, amplifying the sense of unease that courses through my veins.My eyes dart toward the closed door, longing for it to swing open and reveal Vivian unharmed and well. The distant murmur of voices and laughter from the party seep into my consciousness, but it feels distant and muffled, overshadowed by the intensity of my concerns.I can't shake the nagging feeling that something is amiss and that Vivian's sudden discomfort holds a deeper significance. My thoughts swirl in a constant battle between fear and reassurance, teetering on the edge of rationality.My hands fidget nervously, my fingers anxiously tapping against my thigh as I attempt to quell the rising tide of anxiety within me. I mentally rehearse various scenarios, searching for plausible explanations to put my mind at ease.Perhaps it is
The day of the fashion show…The grand ballroom of the luxurious hotel is transformed into a stunning runway, adorned with elegant decorations and shimmering lights. The air crackles with anticipation as the guests, dressed in their finest attire, fill the room with whispers and excited chatter. The vibrant energy of the fashion show permeates the space, elevating the atmosphere to one of excitement and glamour.Flashes of cameras from the media pit capture the essence of the event.The backstage area is a flurry of activity and anticipation. Models, dressed in various stages of readiness, move gracefully through the space, their elegant gowns and meticulously styled hair reflecting the epitome of beauty and sophistication. Makeup artists and hairstylists meticulously put on the finishing touches, ensuring every detail is perfect before the models step onto the runway.In the midst of this organized chaos, I find myself at the center, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through my
I take the draft from the reporter's outstretched hand, my fingers trembling as I clutch the paper. My eyes lock onto the design, the intricate details that I poured my heart into, but something catches my attention—a signature, not my own.My brows furrow in confusion, and my mind races to comprehend the revelation before me."Misha," I whisper, tracing the name with my fingertip.Who is Misha? Why is her signature on my design?Doubt and disbelief flood my thoughts, intertwining with a deep sense of unease.How could this be?I created the design of this wedding gown; every stitch and every embellishment were born from my own imagination. This accusation feels like an assault on my integrity, a betrayal of my artistic vision.The reporters keep asking me questions, eyes fixed upon me, awaiting my response.I can feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on me; the air is heavy with anticipation. The spotlight that once illuminated my success now casts a harsh glare, exposi
The next day, I go to the office to talk to Amanda. As I enter Amanda's office, my heart is heavy with anticipation."Amanda, I need to talk to you.""Of course. Come and take your seat."I thought she would accuse me just like the others did, but she welcomed me with a smile. I am surprised.Amanda's warm smile puts me at ease.I take a deep breath, gather my thoughts, and then begin to explain the situation. I tell her about the forged signature and my disbelief in the whole ordeal."I don’t know who this Misha is," I continue. "I never met her. Why would I transfer money? I have no idea what is going on. Please believe me, Amanda. The design is my creation. I haven’t plagiarized.""I trust you, Vivian. I've worked closely with you, and I've seen your talent and dedication. I don't believe for a second that you would plagiarize."Relief washes over me, and a spark of hope flickers within me. Her trust in me is a balm to my wounded spirit, a reminder that there are still those who se
I expected George to storm out of the room in a fit of anger. But I am surprised to find him still standing by the side of the bed, his gaze fixed on me with an unsettling blankness. A tense silence hangs in the air as our eyes lock in a battle of wills.After what feels like an eternity, George finally breaks the silence. "I will drop you off at home. Your boyfriend, Michael, is too occupied with work to take care of you."His proposition stirs a storm of emotions within me, but I refuse to let my anger be silenced."There is no need." I vehemently turn him down. "I do not want Michael to misinterpret my intentions. Michael is very different from you, and he genuinely cares for me. I don’t want to cause him any undue distress."I say this purposefully. Since he likes to stab my heart over and over again, why would I step back?"Now that I have committed to moving on with him, I will be by his side always and embrace the love that I believe is genuine."George's face contorts with ang
With a mix of anticipation and apprehension, I enter Misha's ward, hoping to find the truth behind her actions. As I approach her bed, I see her fearful gaze locking with mine, and I speak softly, trying to ease the tension."Misha, please listen to me. I just want to understand why you've accused me and framed me for something I didn't do. Can we talk?""Get out!" Misha yells. "Get out of here! You have no right to be here!"I'm taken aback by her sudden outburst, and my attempts to calm her fall on deaf ears. I desperately try to explain."Please stop yelling, Misha… calm down. I genuinely want to know the truth. Why are you doing this? I won’t hurt you. I just want to know why you have framed me."But she keeps yelling, "Get out of here. I don’t want to talk to you. Get lost." The intensity of her yelling reverberates through the room, echoing in my ears.In the midst of the chaos, a doctor and two nurses burst into the room, responding to Misha's cries for help. Their urgency and
The morning sun bathes the office in a warm glow as I step inside, a renewed sense of purpose and excitement coursing through my veins. The usual hum of activity fills the air, but today there's extra energy and a buzz of anticipation that seems to permeate every corner.As I make my way to my desk, colleagues greet me with smiles, their eyes reflecting a mixture of relief and joy. The weight of the false accusations that had burdened me for so long has been lifted.Just as I settle into my workspace, my phone vibrates with an incoming call from Amanda."Can you come to my cabin?" Her voice was light and delightful."Sure."I step into her office, finding her radiant with enthusiasm and a mischievous glimmer in her eyes. She wastes no time in sharing the news that fills me with elation.I have something special for you, my dear! How would you like to participate in a fashion show in Paris?My heart skips a beat at the mere mention of such an incredible opportunity. A surge of exciteme
George’s POV…I am shocked when Vivian said that she really liked Michael. I grit my teeth and clasp her arm tighter."You have no idea what you're getting yourself into with Michael. He is not the simple, loving guy you think he is. He has ulterior motives for being with you. You need to be aware of that."My attempt to caution her is met with a vehement retort, her voice laced with anger and frustration."Oh please! Don't act like our marriage was a pure and genuine connection. It was nothing more than a contractual arrangement. You never had any real feelings for me. Your heart has always belonged to Megan, even while you were sleeping with me."Her words strike a painful chord within me, cutting through my defenses and exposing the raw truth that lies beneath the surface. The regret starts to seep in, fueled by the realization of the choices I've made and the consequences they've borne.As I reflect on the past, a sense of longing and missed opportunities begin to overshadow my an