Can’t Win Me Back

When Rose got to her office, she found Clarissa standing stiffly, waiting for her.

“Are you Clarissa Sparks?”

At the sound of her name, Clarissa hurriedly rose to her feet. “Ms. Emerson.”

Rose studied her with surprise. She had expected the matriarch of the Schmidt family to exude grace and authority, not the demeanor she encountered.

Clarissa only wore a simple white suit with her hair in a neat bun. Though her makeup was impeccably applied, it couldn’t hide the exhaustion etched on her face.

“Ms. Sparks, please take a seat,” Rose said, masking her initial resentment toward a meeting with a member of the Schmidt family. She decided to withhold her emotions and assess the situation first.

visit, but I desperately need your help in designing an evening gown,” Clarissa pleaded. “Money is no object.

Please, I implore you!”

Sparks, I am merely a designer. It seems excessive for you to beg,” Rose remarked, noticing Clarissa’s trembling hand as she

her tone. “Since establishing my workshop, I have always operated by appointment only. Making exceptions would disrupt our production schedule and compromise the quality of our

Rose could finish, Clarissa sank to

panicked

pulled Clarissa up, Clarissa’s

few large bruises and

reeled from the

her own past, where her mother endured humiliation to provide her with a

for an evening gown. Only a masterpiece from you can surpass all others.