Chapter 7

Chloe's POV

My first client came through Maya.

An old, prestigious boutique in Soho was planning their 20th-anniversary exhibition. The budget was tight, but the standards were incredibly high. The owner, Valerie, came to see my warehouse in person. She noticed my pale face and asked bluntly, "Is your health going to be an issue?"

I looked her in the eye. "If there's something I can't handle, I'll tell you upfront. What I promise to do, I will deliver perfectly."

Valerie smiled. "I like that. Realistic over idealistic."

She gave me a shot: I had three days to pitch a concept for their heritage collection.

I took it.

For those three days, I didn't pull any all-nighters. The doctor said I needed rest, so I broke the work into small chunks. When I was tired, I stopped. Maya took care of my meals. When I finally emailed the deck to Valerie, her response was short: You're hired.

Staring at the screen, my eyes filled with tears.

I didn't become useless just because I left Austin.

I had simply returned to my own battlefield.

Once the contract was signed, I installed the first proper light fixture in my warehouse. When the bulb flickered on, the dust motes in the air became visible. Maya pinched her nose, but I stood in the light for a long time.

I remembered how my mother used to repair leather bags under a similar light when I was a kid. We weren't rich, but she always said that whether an old item can be saved doesn't depend on how damaged it is, but on whether someone has the patience to stitch it back together.

I used to apply that logic to my relationship, and it ended up destroying me. N

ow, I finally knew the difference: things can be repaired, but a rotten heart is better left in the trash.

As we prepared for the first mini-exhibition, my body still had moments of sudden weakness. Valerie didn't rush me; she simply pushed the launch date back by two days. Around that time, the name Julian first appeared in my inbox. He was a non-profit director Valerie had introduced, and he sent over a very detailed, professional partnership proposal.

My first instinct was to put up my guard.

I realized Austin had conditioned me to be afraid. I was so used to being controlled that when someone offered a genuine, equal partnership, I immediately looked for the catch.

After Valerie left one afternoon, I sat by the warehouse door, letting the cool breeze hit my face. The salty air from the East River made my stomach ache slightly. Maya handed me a hot water bottle, lecturing me, "If you overwork yourself again, I will literally tie you to the bed."

"Deal," I smiled.

My quick agreement caught Maya off guard. In the past, I hated bothering people. Even with a high fever, I would tell everyone I was fine. Now, I was finally learning to accept care. Not because I was weak, but because I realized that if you want to stand back up, you can't do it while pretending your wounds aren't bleeding.

That night, I wrote down the first rule for my new studio: No sacrificing health for a deadline.

I stared at the sentence. It felt like a final farewell to the girl who used to destroy herself just to please everyone else.

Once the deposit cleared, I felt a sense of relief I hadn't felt in years. This money was mine. It wasn't a payout from Austin, and it wasn't a corporate bonus. It was earned by my own hands.

I used some of it to patch the rest of the roof and saved the rest in a business account. Maya asked why I was being so strict with the finances.

"No matter what happens," I told her, "this studio needs to have at least three months of runway to survive on its own."

It sounded like business talk, but it was actually my safety net.

That night, as I sat alone in the warehouse filing invoices, I found myself smiling. Austin had gifted me expensive jewelry in the past, but none of it ever made me feel this secure.

Real peace of mind doesn't come from the price tag. It comes from knowing exactly how it was earned, and where it's going.