Chapter 4 Whispers in the silk

Steven later heard that Valerie have given birth to a baby girl.He was not really happy with the news because he slept with Valerie out of frustration that helen have left him.It wasn't really love but it was frustration and the need to feel desperately loved in times of sadness.

As time went on,Helen began to recover from the baby loss

Over the next few weeks, Helen began to breathe again.

She didn't move back to the penthouse. She found a cozy brownstone in Brooklyn with ivy on the walls and light in the windows. She let herself cry. She let herself laugh. She surrounded herself with the only people who never asked her to be perfect.

Anita, fiery and loyal, who had been her best friend since college.

Elizabeth, calm and introspective, who had once been her therapist and became like a sister.

Lilian, bright and bold, who dragged Helen to brunches and yoga and forced her to reclaim joy in small doses.

With their support, Helen began dreaming again.

She started sketching-designs, fabrics, patterns that once lived in the back of her mind but now flowed like water. She always had an eye for style, but Steven never took her ideas seriously.

Now, free from his shadow, she decided to risk it.

"Élan," she named the boutique. Meaning vitality, enthusiasm, spirit-all the things she was slowly rediscovering.

The boutique opened in a quiet corner of Manhattan within three months after the baby loss.Helen was unexpectedly fast, but fueled by passion and her friends' unrelenting belief in her. What began as a small project quickly drew attention. Helen's designs were elegant, empowering, and deeply personal. They spoke to women like her-survivors of silence.

Photos of Helen, radiant and reinvented, began circulating in fashion blogs. The whispers turned into conversations. Orders flooded in.

And far across the city, in his increasingly cold penthouse, Steven Ross watched it all.

---

He clicked through the photos on his tablet-Helen at the boutique launch, her arm around Anita, laughing with Lilian, hugging Elizabeth. Her smile was effortless now. Real.

Then there were the ones with Sebastian.

Steven had dismissed him at first-a rebound, a fling. But the more he watched, the more he realized this man wasn't just temporary. He was present. Protective. Attentive. Something Steven had never been.

Regret gnawed at him like rust.

But regret wasn't strong enough to smother the jealousy-or the need for control.

He poured himself a drink and picked up his phone.

"Jennifer. I need a favor."

---

Jennifer Ross was elegance dipped in poison. Steven's sister, blonde and venomous, with a smile that never reached her eyes.

She listened carefully as Steven laid out the plan.

"She's building something. A business. A life. And she's doing it with him. We can't let it last."

Jennifer smiled thinly. "What do you need from me?"

"Doubt," Steven said coldly. "Make her doubt him. She trusts him now. Break that. Get creative."

Jennifer already had a name in mind-a woman from Sebastian's past. An old flame. A messy lawsuit. Some shady business documents she could manipulate just enough.

She leaned back in her chair, tapping her manicured nails on the table.

"Don't worry, brother. By the time I'm done, Helen won't just walk away from him-she'll hate him."

---

And so, the lies began.

Forged papers.

Anonymous emails.

A mysterious woman who bumped into Helen at a gallery, whispering a warning about Sebastian's "other life."

The deception was planted like a seed.

And Helen, now stronger but still healing, would soon have to choose:

Trust what she feels... or fear what she's told.

---

The café was quaint, nestled on a quiet street in SoHo, all warm wood and soft lighting. It smelled of fresh croissants and honey-laced espresso. The kind of place Helen usually loved. But today, something about the air felt tight. Watchful.

She sat near the window, notebook open, sketches scattered between sips of cappuccino. The world outside moved at its usual pace-hurried and indifferent-but inside, she felt an edge. A weight she couldn't name.

Helen wore a soft cream cashmere sweater, her chestnut hair tucked loosely behind her ear. Her hazel eyes scanned the street absently as she adjusted the delicate gold chain around her neck-a birthday gift from Sebastian. A quiet, thoughtful piece. He had remembered the exact date without her saying a word.

And yet... something in her chest stirred uneasily.

It had started two days ago.

A text from an unknown number:

"People aren't always who they seem. Especially the ones who stare too long."

She'd dismissed it at first-a wrong number, perhaps. But the next day, a manila envelope was slid under her boutique door. No note. Just copies of legal documents: a civil lawsuit, sealed from public view. Sebastian Whitaker listed as a defendant. A business partner listed as a plaintiff. The words fraud, breach, and deception in faint type beneath the signature lines.

Helen had read them twice, her heart squeezing. The Sebastian she knew-gentle, guarded, steady-didn't match the man in those cold, impersonal pages.

She hadn't told anyone yet. Not Anita. Not even Sebastian.

But the seed had been planted. Doubt always came quietly.

That was when she entered.

A woman-tall, striking, with a face like carved marble and eyes like polished glass. Platinum-blonde hair fell in a sleek curtain over her shoulders, and her crimson coat clung to her like flame. She approached Helen's table with a soft smile-one that didn't reach her eyes.

"Excuse me," she said, voice velvet and perfectly measured. "Are you Helen Ross?"

Helen straightened slowly. "Yes?"

"I'm so sorry to intrude. I recognized you from the boutique launch. You've done something quite remarkable in such a short time." She glanced at the sketches on the table, her red lips curving. "You have an eye."

"Thank you," Helen said cautiously. "Do I know you?"

The woman extended a gloved hand. "Jennifer."

She didn't offer a last name. She didn't need to.

Something in Helen's chest tightened instinctively.

Jennifer sat without invitation, folding herself into the opposite chair with feline grace. Her eyes lingered on Helen's necklace. Then on her hands. Then finally, her face.

"I don't want to take much of your time," Jennifer said smoothly. "But I thought you deserved a... courtesy."

Helen's brow furrowed. "A courtesy?"

Jennifer leaned in, her voice just above a whisper. "About Sebastian. You may want to ask him about Berlin. Or about a woman named Celeste Quinn. He has a habit of... collecting hearts. And forgetting to return them."

The words slithered into Helen's ears like ice.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

Jennifer's smile never faltered. "You'll see. He's charming. But men like him always are-until they're not. Just be careful where you invest your heart."

She stood in a single, graceful motion, smoothing her coat.

"Oh, and don't try to trace me," she added with a wink. "I've always preferred to remain in the shadows."

And then she was gone-heels clicking across the tile, red silk like fire trailing behind her.

Helen sat motionless for several moments.

The warmth of the café now felt stifling. Her pulse raced in her throat. Celeste Quinn. Berlin. The lawsuit.

She didn't believe it. Not fully.

But something inside her-some piece still bruised by Steven's betrayal-was whispering again.

What if it's true?

She pressed a hand to her chest and closed her eyes. For a moment, the boutique, the sketches, the laughter she'd shared with Sebastian-it all felt like a dream she was about to wake up from.

Or worse... a lie she'd willingly stepped into.

Outside the café, Jennifer turned a corner and slipped into a waiting black car. She pulled out her phone and dialed.

"He took the bait," she said.

"You mean she did," Steven replied. His voice was low. Tense.

Jennifer's smile sharpened. "Give it time. You know Helen-she doesn't explode. She implodes. Quietly. Elegantly. But thoroughly."

Steven said nothing for a long moment.

"Do you think she still loves me?" he finally asked.

Jennifer scoffed. "i believe she will start missing you when that good for nothing Sebastian is out of her life.Then your life will be back to normal again.When she comes back into your life don't lose her again".

The car drove off into the misted gray of early afternoon.

Back at the café, Helen sat alone-shaken, unsure, and quietly haunted by the ghosts of her past... and possibly, the shadow of her future.