MasukI picked up the phone and stared at the number on the business card for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. The apartment was quiet except for the distant hum of traffic outside. Diana had left for a quick errand, leaving me alone with my thoughts and that simple line of handwriting. I muttered to myself, “Just do it. What is the worst that can happen?”My thumb pressed the numbers before I could talk myself out of it again. The line rang twice. A professional voice answered on the third ring. “Sinclair Capital, this is Lena. How may I direct your call?”I cleared my throat. “Hi. This is Jasmine Reed. I received a card from Noah Sinclair. It said we should meet. I am calling to… see if that is still possible.”Lena’s tone stayed smooth and efficient. “Miss Reed. Mr. Sinclair mentioned you might reach out. Let me check his schedule. He has availability on Thursday afternoon at three. Does that work for you?”I gripped the edge of the table. Thursday. Four days from now. My
I pulled open the drawer in Diana’s kitchen looking for a pen that actually worked. Papers, old takeout menus, and random receipts spilled across the counter in a mess I started sorting without thinking. My fingers brushed something stiff and thick. The cream business card. Noah Sinclair. It must have slipped in here when Diana cleaned up the other night. I almost tossed it again, but this time I held it longer, turning it under the light.Diana walked in from the bedroom, towel-drying her hair. “Found something interesting in my junk drawer?”I held the card up. She shrugged and leaned against the counter. “Because mysterious billionaires don’t send handwritten notes every day. And something in that message felt real. You have been carrying too much alone.”Diana set the kettle on and sat across from me. “Look him up right now. We have been talking about your next steps for days. Maybe this is part of it. Or maybe it is nothing. But you deserve to know.”I opened my laptop. My hands
The morning of the wedding arrived heavy and gray. I stood at Diana’s kitchen window staring at the rain sliding down the glass, my hands wrapped around a mug of coffee gone cold. Three days had somehow stretched into the exact date I once circled on every calendar. Today should have been my day. I should have been in a white dress, reading the vows, and fantasizing about the future. Instead, I wore old sweats and watched the clock tick toward a ceremony I was not part of.My phone sat face down on the counter. I had promised myself I would not check it. Not today. But when it buzzed I grabbed it anyway.Diana’s first text came through. She had gone because someone needed to witness it, she said. For the record. Because she could not stand not knowing.I read it slowly. “I’m here. The venue looks expensive. Lots of flowers. Too many. Like they’re trying to cover something.”I typed back fast, fingers pressing hard on the screen. “You don’t have to do this. Come home. I’m fine.”Her re
I had gone to pick the envelope up but it had arrived before me. Diana handed me the cream envelope as soon as I got back from the front desk. "This came for you. No return address and feels fancy with thick paper. Who sends physical mail these days?"I took it and sat at the table where my sketches still lay spread out. "Now a mystery letter… this feels strange.”"Open it," Diana said, pulling up a chair beside me. "Read it out loud. We have been talking all morning about job replies. This could be good news or more mess."I slid my finger under the flap and pulled out a single business card. Heavy stock. Simple black text. Noah Sinclair. Sinclair Capital. Below it, handwritten in strong, neat writing: "I think we should meet. I may have information that concerns you."I stared at it for a long moment. "Noah Sinclair. I do not know that name. Sinclair Capital. Sounds big though.”Diana took the card and examined it. "Let me search quickly on my phone. Noah Sinclair. Billionaire ventu
Diana pulled out a folding table from her closet and set it up near the window. "This can be your workspace. Job applications first. Then portfolio updates. You are methodical, Jasmine. That is your strength. Quietly getting things done even when the world falls apart. I have seen it before."I sat at the table and opened my laptop, the screen light hitting my face. "Methodical. Yes. That is what I am doing. Updating my resume. Listing the branding work for Lancaster's first collection. The pattern collections. The client files I fixed for free. But I cannot say much because of the agreement. It feels like starting over with my hands tied."Diana brought over coffee and sat across from me. "Tell me what you are typing. Read it out. We will make it strong."I cleared my throat and read from the screen. "Fashion designer and pattern maker with experience building brand identity from the ground up. Developed mood boards, wholesale strategies, and collections that increased client engagem
I woke up on Diana's couch with my phone already buzzing on the coffee table. Diana was in the kitchen, clinking plates. "Morning. I made breakfast. You are not going to the studio on an empty stomach. Eat first, then we face that mess."I sat up, rubbing my eyes. The announcement from yesterday still sat heavily in my chest. "I need to go now, Di. Before they change the locks or move everything. That place still has my mood boards, the pattern collections, and the client files I did as help for free.” I went silent for a while and scoffed. “I built that studio space."Diana brought over eggs and toast, sitting across from me. "Fine. But I am driving you. And if Ryan or his assistant gives you trouble, I will handle it. You signed that paper three years ago thinking it was nothing probably a formality. Now it might bite you."I ate quickly, the food tasting like paper. "I remember signing it. Ryan said it was standard for the company and to protect the brand. I trusted him. I was the







