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.

"Ms. Emerson, I apologize for this sudden visit, but I desperately need your help in designing an evening gown," Clarissa pleaded. "Money is no object. I can pay you double or even triple what others would offer. All I ask is for your expertise. Please, I implore you!"

"Ms. Sparks, I am merely a designer. It seems excessive for you to beg," Rose remarked, noticing Clarissa's trembling hand as she held her cup. It was evident she was not in a stable state of mind.

disrupt our production schedule and compromise the quality

Rose could finish, Clarissa sank to her

Sparks?" Rose panicked and quickly went

she pulled Clarissa up,

a few large bruises

mind reeled

distress, her thoughts drifted to her own past, where her mother endured humiliation to provide her with a better life. The haunting image of her abusive father flashed through her mind, a reminder

gown. Only a masterpiece from you can surpass all others. Your designs

but she was without tears. "I won't get up until

this. Get

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