PREPARATIONS AND FEARS

Chapter 2

The following week at Henson’s Group passed in a blur of heightened activity. Usually, the office was a place of quiet industry, but now it buzzed with an electric energy that was hard to ignore. Every corridor was adorned with banners, and every bulletin board was plastered with reminders regarding the upcoming 10th Anniversary Gala. It wasn't just a party; it was the social event of the season. High-profile clients, government officials, fashion icons, and the elite of the business world were all expected to attend. And, most importantly, the elusive CEO, Dylan Henson, was confirmed to be making an appearance.

For the employees, this was both an honor and a source of immense pressure. Everyone wanted to look their best, hoping to catch the eye of upper management or even the CEO himself. New suits were bought, salon appointments were booked, and whispers of "what to wear" dominated every lunch break.

But for Megan Harsher, the excitement around her felt like a distant storm—loud and chaotic, but far removed from her reality.

She sat at her desk, staring at the official invitation card she had been handed that morning. The paper was thick and creamy, embossed with the company logo in shiny gold foil. It read: “You are cordially invited…” Megan traced the letters with her finger. While her colleagues saw this as an opportunity to shine, she saw it as a potential disaster. She had nothing to wear. Her wardrobe consisted mainly of office uniforms and a few old, faded casual outfits. Even if she wanted to buy something new, every cent of her salary had already been handed over to Clara and Leo.

"You going, Megan?" asked Lisa, a coworker sitting nearby, glancing over with a mix of curiosity and pity. "Everyone is talking about it. They say Mr. Henson is personally going to greet the staff this time."

Megan offered a small, tired smile. "I’ll be there. I just… haven't decided what to wear yet."

"You should treat yourself!" Lisa encouraged, though she knew Megan’s situation was difficult. "It’s a once-in-a-lifetime chance. Maybe you’ll get noticed."

Megan nodded but said nothing. Getting noticed was the last thing she wanted. In her experience, attention only brought trouble. Yet, deep down, a small spark of hope flickered. Maybe, just maybe, this event could be different. Maybe she could stand in the crowd, invisible but safe, and for one night, feel like she belonged somewhere.

Determined not to be defeated by circumstance, she opened her sketchbook. She didn't need to buy a dress; she could make one. It had been a long time since she had sewn something for herself rather than just drafting designs for mass production. Late into the evening, while her colleagues left the office one by one, Megan stayed behind. She utilized the leftover fabrics—scraps of high-quality materials that were usually discarded or used for practice. She selected a soft, midnight-blue silk blend, a fabric that shimmered subtly like the night sky. It was elegant but understated, perfect for staying in the background while still feeling special.

Her fingers moved with practiced ease. Sewing was therapy for her. As the needle moved through the fabric, the noise of the office faded, and the memories of her difficult home life quieted down. She poured her heart into the stitches, designing something that made her feel beautiful, something that was entirely hers.

However, the peace she found at work always evaporated the moment she stepped through the front door of her house.

When she arrived home that night, carrying the carefully wrapped dress hidden inside a bag, she found Clara waiting for her in the living room. The air was thick with the smell of stale smoke and cheap perfume.

"I heard from one of the neighbors that your company is throwing a big party," Clara said, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. She stood up and walked toward Megan, eyes narrowing. "You are going, aren't you?"

Megan gripped her bag tighter. "Yes. All employees are required to attend."

"Good," Clara smirked. "You’re going to wear that black dress I bought for Leo’s cousin’s wedding last year. The one that still hangs in the closet. And you’re going to mingle. Talk to rich people. Find someone who can help us. Maybe you’ll finally be useful for something other than typing and sewing."

Megan’s heart sank. The dress Clara was referring to was gaudy, tight, and uncomfortable—the kind of dress that screamed for attention, the exact opposite of what she wanted. "But Stepmother, I already have something—"

"Don't argue with me!" Clara snapped, her demeanor shifting instantly from manipulative to cruel. She stepped closer, invading Megan's space. "You think you’re too good to wear what I pick for you? After everything I’ve done for you? You will wear what I say, and you will bring back something good from that party, or you’ll regret it."

Leo walked into the room, holding a beer bottle, and laughed darkly. "Yeah, sis. Don't embarrass us. Try to catch a rich fish. It’s the least you can do."

With no choice but to agree, Megan nodded silently. She retreated to her small room, locking the door behind her. She placed her own creation—the beautiful blue gown—carefully at the bottom of her suitcase, hiding it beneath her old clothes. She felt a pang of sadness, realizing that even at a celebration meant for her, she couldn't truly be herself.

The night of the gala was approaching fast, and Megan felt the walls closing in. She didn't know that while she struggled with her preparations, miles away in a high-rise penthouse, Dylan Henson was also preparing. He wasn't looking at financial reports or guest lists. He was looking through old photo albums and files, his mind fixed on one goal: finding the girl with the brave heart who saved him all those years ago. He didn't know her name, but he knew he would recognize her eyes anywhere.

Megan fell asleep that night clutching the hem of her hidden blue dress, unaware that the mask she was forced to wear was about to slip off, and the life she tried so hard to endure was about to change forever.

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