“No.”
“Alright.”
Their conversation was painfully brief.
Niamh still wasn’t sure why Jonathan had called her in the first place.
Before she could say another word, he’d already hung up.
She drove over to Canopy Coffee.
Peter had suggested they meet there–afternoon tea and a little business talk.
“You’re a hard woman to pin down these days,” Peter teased as she slid into the booth across from him.
Niamh grinned. “Says who? I’ll always make time for you.”
Being with Peter was a relief after the constant tension of dealing with the Thomases. The tightness she’d been carrying around in her shoulders finally eased, and she could let her guard down.
“Work matters, but so does your health. Don’t burn yourself out,” Peter said, reaching over to gently massage her temples.
Niamh blinked in surprise, but he’d already withdrawn his hand.
Across the street, behind the spotless glass, someone was holding up a large black
camera.
Back inside Canopy Coffee, Peter poured a steaming cup of herbal tea and pushed it toward her.
He could tell Niamh’s exhaustion wasn’t just about work–but he wasn’t about to pry into her private life. Bringing it up would only add to her troubles.
“The project isn’t confirmed yet, but there’s definite interest. They reached out through me, wanted you to start thinking about it,” Peter said, sliding a folder across the table.
“Queen of Frostvale?” Niamh stared at him, shocked.
Peter chuckled. “That’s right. A royal commission–restoring the old crown and crafting an entirely new one.”
L1/3
“I mean, a project like that…for me? Isn’t that a bit much?” Niamh couldn’t quite believe it. In her mind, the royal family surely had their own traditional craftsmen
“Originally, Her Majesty wanted BYC to take it on, but couldn’t get in touch. And I suspect you know more about that than I do,” Peter grinned, poking fun at her,
Niamh could only laugh helplessly. Claiming the BYC identity still wasn’t something she was ready to do.
“The Queen saw your collection at Luminous Divas Fashion Week. She thinks you might surprise her. But this is a big deal–the crown’s used for official ceremonies, it represents the royal family’s image, so they’re still debating whether to entrust it to a newcomer. For now, the Queen wants you to be prepared.”
“Got it,” Niamh nodded.
“Take the project brief, look it over when you get home. I’d say your chances are pretty good…”
“Thanks, I will.”
No sooner had Niamh tucked the Frostvale royal project folder into her bag than chaos erupted in the cafe.
“You ungrateful traitor!” Bagot stormed up to their table, jabbing a finger in Niamh’s
face.
“I finally found you! The Thomas family promised to invest in my company, and you stabbed me in the back! Not only did you refuse to help, you even made things worse for me. After all the Rivers family did for you–raised you, gave you everything–and this is how you repay us? If my company goes under, you’ll regret
it!”
Peter immediately shielded Niamh, waving over the security guards to throw Bagot
out.
Across the street, the camera’s flash kept blinking.
Peter insisted on driving Niamh home himself–he didn’t trust that Bagot wouldn’t try something else.
Niamh felt like Bagot was a bad dream she just couldn’t shake.
That evening, gossip blogs exploded with accusations–claims that Niamh had forgotten her roots after marrying into money, and was turning her back on desperate relatives. Her name shot to the top of the trending topics.
She knew immediately this was Bagot’s handiwork, trying to pressure her with
public opinion.
She switched off her phone, pulled out the project brief, and immersed herself in
work.
Gossip like this never lasted; a couple of days, and it would all blow over.
Jade Peak Pavilion.
Jonathan lay sprawled on the bed.
It was the same bed they’d bought when they got married.
Now, alone, it felt far too big.
He scrolled mindlessly through his phone, his thumb pausing on a trending headline.
