Chapter 2

I was halfway through the onboarding paperwork when Adrian's video call came in.

Professor Laurent glanced at my phone.

"Need to take that?"

I shook my head. "No."

The screen lit up and went dark, went dark and lit up again.

The assistant slid the contract in front of me.

"Ms. Ward, this collaboration requires your real name. The New York partner will also be publishing simultaneously—is that all right?"

My fingertip paused.

The partner was a jewelry brand under Cole Group.

Three months ago, I was the one who'd brokered this project for Adrian.

Back then he'd said, "Once this collab succeeds, we'll get married."

I thought that was a promise. Now I knew—it was just a cheap gesture.

I signed my name.

"That's fine."

The moment I set down the pen, Adrian's message popped up.

"Answer the phone."

I didn't reply.

A second later, Lily sent a friend request.

The note was a single line.

"Emma, Adrian's going crazy trying to reach you. Don't make him worry."

I hit accept.

She quickly sent a photo.

In the picture, Adrian sat in a hospital corridor, holding a payment receipt. Lily's hand rested on his sleeve cuff, her nails painted pale pink.

"Emma, don't misunderstand. I'm just here for a checkup. My body was hurt in the past, and Adrian's always felt guilty about it."

I didn't reply.

She sent another message.

"I drank too much last night and spoke out of turn. If it bothered you, I can apologize."

Then she recalled a message.

But I still saw it.

"Though he really was so nervous back then. He signed the surgical consent forms himself."

I set my phone face down on the desk.

Professor Laurent asked, "Not feeling well?"

I said, "I'm fine."

He studied me for a few seconds, then handed me a design brief.

"This is the theme New York proposed. It's called Second Chance. See if you can work with it."

The instant I turned the page, I saw the note in the bottom right corner.

Key visual reference: Lily Hart.

I stared at those two words and almost laughed.

Adrian really knew how to arrange things.

I do the collab work for him, and he makes Lily the inspirational muse.

That evening, back at the apartment, I'd barely unpacked when the doorbell rang.

A courier handed me an international express package.

Sender: Adrian Cole.

Inside was a white cashmere scarf.

And a note.

"Paris is cold. Don't catch a cold. Come back when you've calmed down."

The scarf was new, tags still on. But the smell was familiar.

It was the perfume Lily had been wearing last night.

I opened social media.

Half an hour ago, Lily had posted a photo.

"Someone bought two scarves. Said one's for me, one's for smoothing things over."

Someone teased in the comments.

"Adrian still knows how to take care of everyone."

Lily replied: "Hardly. He just said my health is fragile, so he let me pick first."

I stuffed the scarf back into the box.

Adrian's call came again.

This time I answered.

His voice had softened slightly.

"Got the package?"

"Got it."

"Like it?"

"Lily's leftovers?"

A beat of silence on his end.

"Emma, do you really have to talk like that?"

"How else should I talk?"

He held back his anger.

"I sent you something to make you feel better, not to give you ammunition."

"Adrian, you know I'm allergic to wool."

He sounded like he'd been caught off guard.

A few seconds passed before he said, "I forgot."

I set the delivery box by the door.

"Then next time, remember. Don't bother sending anything."

"Emma."

His voice turned cold.

"The collab project has an online meeting next week. You'd better get your emotions in check. Business is business—don't drag personal issues into it."

I looked down at my signature on the contract.

"Don't worry."

I hung up, took the ring box out of my bag, and locked it in a drawer.

As the key turned, my phone buzzed.

Cole Fine Jewelry's official account had posted a new update.

"Second Chance collection launching soon. Special inspiration guest: Lily Hart."