BILLIONAIRES: Father or Son

Chapter Forty-Nine

ALEX'S POV

"Flora," I called gently, moving toward her. She didn't lift her head, her sobs muffled against her folded arms. I crouched down and wrapped her in my arms, pulling her trembling frame close to my chest. Her tears soaked into my shirt, but I didn't care. I kissed her hair softly, running my hand up and down her back in slow, soothing strokes.

"It's okay, baby," I whispered. "Please stop crying."

She didn't answer, just buried her face deeper into my chest. Her tears were like daggers to my heart. Flora wasn't the type to break easily and seeing her like this made me want to hunt down whoever caused it and make them regret it. As my gaze scanned her office, I caught sight of her main design lying discarded on the floor. I squinted and realized something was terribly wrong. This wasn't just about a model canceling last minute. Something much bigger had happened.

But I stayed silent. What Flora needed now wasn't questions or lectures. She needed comfort. She needed to cry it out. When her sobs finally quieted into soft sniffles, I gently lifted her off the floor and settled her into her chair. Her face was blotchy, her eyes red and puffy from crying. She stared down at her fingers, her shoulders hunched like the weight of the world was pressing down on her.

I pulled out my handkerchief and wiped her tears away. Then, I started gathering the scattered files around her desk, placing them neatly back in order. She didn't say a word, just sat there, occasionally swiping at a stray tear with the back of her hand.

Once I was done, I glanced at my watch. The other employees would be trickling in soon, and the last thing Flora needed was an audience for this moment. As I bent down to pick up the dress lying on the floor, my breath caught in my throat. A gaping hole ran through the center of the fabric, tearing apart what had once been a stunning masterpiece.

"Jesus Christ," I muttered, holding the dress up for a better look. "Who the hell did this?"

Flora's face crumpled, and she broke into fresh sobs. I didn't need her to answer. I needed to take her to my office so we could talk. Without saying another word, I hung the ruined dress over my shoulder, scooped her up into my arms, and carried her out of the office.

Inside my office, I settled her gently onto the plush couch, sitting beside her and pulling her head to rest against my chest.

"I promise you," I said firmly, "I will find out who did this, and they will regret it. No one gets away with this kind of sabotage here."

Flora sniffled, her voice trembling as she spoke. "It's not just the dress, Alex. My entire catalog is gone. My digital sketches—everything. They wiped my system clean. They've ruined me."

I swore under my breath, my hand clenching into a fist against the couch. "This is pure evil," I growled. "Flora, this company has no tolerance for this kind of behavior. I'll make sure justice is served."

She nodded weakly, tears still slipping down her cheeks. I cupped her face in my hands, gently wiping them away with my thumbs. Then, leaning in, I pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

"I don't think I can go to the fashion show tomorrow," she whispered.

I tilted her face up, forcing her to look at me. "And let whoever did this win? No way, Flora. You're going to be at that fashion show tomorrow night, and all your designs are going to be displayed."

Her eyes darted away; uncertainty written all over her face. I tightened my hold on her chin, making sure our gazes stayed locked.

"Listen to me," I said firmly. "We'll spend today fixing this. That dress isn't ruined—it's an opportunity to create something even better. You're a designer, Flora. Is your talent only for easy days? Or are you ready to turn this disaster into a masterpiece?"