Chapter 2: The Scissors Don’t Lie
The boutique stayed silent long after the doors locked.
Clara didn’t move.
Neither did Eleanor.
The shears hovered in Eleanor’s hand like a verdict waiting to be executed.
Then—slowly—Eleanor walked to the worktable and laid the gown flat.
Not gently. Not cruelly.
Practically.
Like it already belonged to history.
“You always confuse emotion with entitlement,” Eleanor said.
Clara swallowed hard. “I built that dress.”
Eleanor finally looked at her.
A long pause.
Then—
“You built nothing,” she said. “You assembled pieces I already designed in your internship files.”
Clara’s breath stopped.
A flicker of doubt passed through her eyes.
Eleanor lifted the shears slightly.
“Everything you are… is cut from me.”
The blades clicked once.
May you like
Not cutting yet.
Just warning.
