Page 25 of And Back

But there’s another layer to this fear, the memory of being held hostage, the trauma from fifteen years of being trafficked as a sex slave.

The constant terror, the feeling of being trapped with no escape—the memories of dark, cramped rooms, and the touch of the men who abused me haunts me.

Virgilio saved me, but the scars remain. I was a pawn in a game of power. The weight of that time bears down on me, making every challenge feel like life or death.

Every time I look in the mirror, I see the shadow of that frightened girl, the one who learned to be strong because there was no other choice.

The Bratva took so much from me, but they couldn't take my dreams. Designing became my escape, my way to reclaim control over my life.

I close my eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. This is my chance to show the world what I’m capable of, to turn doubt into triumph, and to prove that my success is no fluke. It’s a chance to write my own story, on my own terms.

Opening my eyes, I feel clarity and purpose. I know I can't let fear dictate my actions. I have two weeks to pour every ounce of creativity and passion into my designs, to craft something that is undeniably me. Sabine’s challenge might be a daunting obstacle, but it’s also an opportunity—one that I intend to seize with everything I have.

I glance at the screen one last time, the comments blurring together as my focus sharpens. This is my moment. And I will rise to the occasion.

The competitive fire within me is quickly doused by a wave of anxiety. My stomach tightens, my breath catches as I glance at the clock. This is my chance to prove myself, to show everyone that I'm a designer with vision and talent. But I can't do it alone. I need help. I need Valerie.

Sabine's designs are already causing a buzz, and everyone's watching to see how I will respond. The comments online range from supportive to skeptical, and the pressure is crushing me.

My hands tremble as I scroll through my ridiculously short list of contacts and find Valerie's number. Valerie has always been there for me throughout my short journey in the fashion industry. I take a deep breath and press the call button, listening to the ringing on the other end.

"Hello Zoe" Valerie's familiar voice answers, and a wave of relief washes over me.

"Valerie, I need your help again," I say. "Sabine has challenged me to a design-off, and I can't do this without you."

There's a pause, and then Valerie responds with a confidence that I desperately need right now. "I saw it. Of course I'll help you. Come to the studio as soon as you are free.”

“Thank you, Valerie, I don't know what I’d do without you.”

She laughs, “You're very talented Zoe, you do not need me, I am very sure of that. But I’m happy to help.”

“Thank you for believing in me.”

“I'll be expecting you later.”

Hearing her words, a spark of hope flickers within me. With Valerie by my side, I feel a little more prepared to face the challenge ahead.

I throw the covers off and swing my legs over the side of the bed. The cold floor shocks my feet, grounding me for a moment. I take a deep breath and push myself to stand, heading towards the bathroom. The reflection in the mirror looks back at me—tired eyes, disheveled hair—but beneath that, there's a glimmer of determination.

I splash cold water on my face, the icy shock helping to clear my mind. My fingers work through my tangled hair, smoothing it into something presentable. A swipe of mascara, a touch of lip balm—small rituals that make me feel more like myself.

I head towards Dante's office, each step filled with purpose but also trepidation. What will he say? Will he even let me leave? The uncertainty churns in my stomach, determination and fear battling within me.

I stop in front of his door, hesitating for just a second before knocking firmly. My heart races, each beat echoing in my ears like a drum.

"Come in," Dante's voice commands from the other side.

I push the door open and step into his office. The room is almost empty, adorned with the bare necessities of a leader trained in violence. Dante sits behind a massive glass desk, his eyes immediately locking onto mine as I approach.

"Hey," I say, my voice steadier than I feel.

He nods, looking surprised. "Zoe. You’re up early…"

I take a deep breath and hold up my phone. "I need you to watch this video first. It's important."

Dante raises an eyebrow but takes the phone from my hand, pressing play. The video starts, and I watch his face closely as Sabine's challenge unfolds on the screen. His eyes narrow slightly, and he leans back in his chair, tapping his fingers on the desk in a rhythmic pattern.

When the video ends, he hands the phone back to me, his expression now one of curiosity mixed with something else—calculation, perhaps.

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