A year after launching her global fashion line, Maria was no longer just a rising star–She was a phenomenon.
Runways bowed to her. Celebrities fought to wear her pieces. Fashion magazines called her "the girl who turned pain into couture."
The press couldn't get enough of her.
Maria Ailenie, the fashion mogul who had come out of nowhere, was now the face of Orian luxury on a global scale. Talk shows, elite panels, red carpet interviews–everyone wanted her. And she gave them exactly what they wanted: elegance, intelligence, mystique.
She was living in a mansion now, her brand expanding into fragrances, accessories, even film wardrobe design.
Everywhere she went, she wore elegance like a second skin. But beneath it–Maria was still stitching herself back together.
Her daughter, now six, was her entire world. Lila had her eyes, but not her quiet. She was curious. Bold. Bright.
Every time Maria looked at her, she remembered both heaven and hell.
Weeks before the news about Liz Runbert's arrival surfaced, Maria had already accepted a VIP invitation to the Women in Power Global Gala–a glittering event hosted annually to honor female trailblazers across industries.
She had even agreed to be part of the closing VIP circle–an exclusive hour where select guests would interact with one another, take photos, and network.
It was all scheduled, locked in, signed.
She had no idea that Liz would be one of the keynote guest speakers.
Not until it was too late.
It started with a news alert on her phone.
| "Renowned behavioral scientist, Dr Liz Runbert, to speak Women in Power Global Gala in Ori City this fall."
Maria froze.
She reads it again and again.
Same name, same city, same Liz.
Her phone slipped from her fingers and hit the floor with a soft clack.
"Maria?" Sara called from the kitchen, "You okay?"
Maria didn't respond. Her knees gave out before she even realized she was falling. She clutched the edge of her worktable, knuckles white.
It has been years.
And yet, just reading her name reopened a wound that Maria thought had scarred over.
That night, she told Sara everything.
She didn't have to say much. Sara knew the look in her eyes.
"She's... she's coming here," Maria whispered. "To my city."
Sara lowered her teacup slowly. "Are you sure it's the same person?"
Maria didn't answer. Her silence said it all.
"I won't let her get to you," Sara said firmly.
Maria nodded–but her eyes said otherwise. Inside her, panic and memories tangled together like thread in a broken bobbin.
For weeks, she tried to pretend like nothing was wrong.
She still showed up at fittings. Smiled for photo ops. Released new sketches online.
But at home–she was unraveling.
She became quiet. Jumpy. Distant.
Lila–her daughter–noticed.
"Mommy, are you okay?" she asked one night, climbing into her lap as they watched cartoons.
Maria forced a smile. "I'm fine, my love. Just a little tired."
Her daughter squinted. "You only say that when you're lying."
Maria froze.
Children always know more than we think.
She kissed her daughter's forehead and held her tighter than usual. "I'm just thinking about someone I used to know."
"Were they mean?" Lila asked.
Maria paused. "Yes. Very mean."
"Do I know them?"
Maria's chest tightened. "No baby. And I hope you never do."
She lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling, wondering what she would do if they ran into each other. Wondering if she would freeze, or scream, or crumble.
Worse-she wondered what would happen if Liz ever met Lila.
Would she know?
Would she see herself in the curve of that little girl's nose?
Maria didn't know. All she knew was that the life she had built so carefully–brick by brick–felt like it was suddenly standing on cracked earth.
And somewhere deep down...
She was terrified it might all collapse again.