Daisy Hartley

It's just another day at the shop. The morning light filters through the windows of my studio, casting a soft glow over the fabrics scattered around the room. I'm bent over my sketchbook, trying to get this new design just right. It's peaceful, in the way that work can be when everything else fades away. I'm lost in the folds of fabric and the lines of the sketch.

Miles is due to stop by later for another meeting, but for now, it's just me, my thoughts, and the gentle hum of the sewing machine in the background. The shop has been doing well, even more than I could've imagined a few months ago. The clients are coming in steadily, and the business is starting to gain real traction, thanks in no small part to Miles. His connections have opened doors I never thought possible.

But still, something nags at me. I've been feeling it for a few days now, a sense of unease I can't shake, like a thread pulled too tight, ready to snap. Maybe it's just the stress of running a business, the weight of all these decisions. Or maybe...

The sound of the front door swinging open jolts me from my thoughts. My heart races for a second before I realize it's just Miles, arriving earlier than expected.

"Hey, Daisy," he says, all smiles, his usual smooth self. He looks relaxed, confident, like everything is just another day in paradise. But I've learned to read him over the past months, and there's something in his eyes today, something that feels off. I brush the thought away, chalking it up to my own nerves.

"Miles" I say, smiling back. "You're early. We weren't supposed to meet for another hour."

"Yeah, thought I'd drop by, see how things are going. The usual." He leans against the counter, looking around casually. "Business is booming, huh?"

I nod, running a hand through my hair, still feeling proud despite the weight in my chest. "It's been good. Really good, actually."

He gives me that charming smile of his. "Told you, you're a natural. People are starting to take notice."

I glance at the stack of fabric on the table, feeling a swell of pride. "Yeah, I guess so."

We talk for a bit, going over some ideas for the next few months, expanding, marketing strategies, some new partnerships. I trust Miles. He's been a rock since we started working together, guiding me through the maze of business with an expertise I didn't have. But as we chat, that nagging feeling gnaws at me again. I shake it off, telling myself it's just nerves, just the pressure of success.

But then, everything changes in an instant.

There's a loud knock on the door, and before I can respond, it swings open. Two officers step inside, their expressions serious. My stomach drops.

"Ms. Hartley?" one of them says, looking at me directly.

"Yes?" I say, my voice small, my heart pounding in my chest.

"We're here on behalf of the state. We have a warrant for your arrest."

"What?" My mind races, trying to process what they're saying. "There must be some mistake."

But they don't hesitate. One officer steps forward, pulling out a pair of handcuffs. My body goes rigid as he grabs my wrists, snapping the cuffs on far too tight. I glance at Miles, expecting him to intervene, to say something...anything.

But he just stands there. Watching.

"Wait, what is this about?" I manage to choke out, trying to make sense of the chaos unfolding around me.

The other officer reads out my rights in a monotone voice, but none of it registers. All I can think is that this is some kind of misunderstanding. A joke. It has to be.

"Miles?" I turn to him, desperate for help. "What is happening?"

His face is unreadable. He opens his mouth, then closes it. For a moment, it's like I see a flicker of regret, but it's gone as quickly as it came.

"I...I don't know," he finally says, but there's no conviction in his voice. And suddenly, I realize.

He knows.

They're leading me out of my shop now, the cuffs biting into my wrists. My heart is racing, my mind spinning, trying to make sense of everything. And as I glance back, just before I'm shoved into the back of the police car, I catch one last look at Miles, standing in the doorway.

And he's smiling. The cold, detached kind of smile that sends a chill down your spine.

***

Hours later, I'm sitting in a room at the police station. This can't be happening. Not after everything I've worked so hard for. How could it all fall apart so fast?

Then the door swings open, and I look up to see Miles enter the room. My heart races with anger and confusion. "What the hell is going on, Miles?" I demand, my voice trembling.

He takes a seat across from me, casual as ever. "I'd say you're having a pretty rough day."

"Rough day? You think this is funny?" I can't keep the rage from spilling out.

He leans back in his chair, an infuriating smirk still on his face. "I had to protect my interests, Daisy. You were about to overshadow me, and I couldn't let that happen."

"What are you talking about? We were a team! You were supposed to help me!"

"Oh, I helped you all right. You just didn't realize that I was also using you. Everything you've created, all those designs, you made it so easy for me to take what I needed." he says, his tone dripping with condescension.

I feel sick as his words sink in. "You're lying. You couldn't have stolen my designs."

"I didn't steal them, Daisy. I took what was rightfully mine." he says, the smugness in his voice only fueling my anger. "You think you were the only one capable of great ideas? I've been doing this longer than you, and you just handed everything over without a second thought."

"Why would you do this to me?" My voice is barely above a whisper, the betrayal cutting deeper than I ever thought possible.

"Because it was necessary," he says simply, leaning forward, his eyes cold. "You see, I've always been a step ahead. Your designs? I published them under my name. Now, you're the one being accused of copying me."

"What?" I can't believe what I'm hearing. "You can't be serious. This is illegal!"

"Welcome to the real world, Daisy. You thought this was all a game? I'm just playing to win." He grins, and it makes my skin crawl.

"Do you have any idea how much I've sacrificed? How hard I've worked to get here?" I say on the verge of tears, anger bubbling over. "And you just threw it all away!"

"I did what I had to do," he says, shrugging again. "You'll thank me later when you realize you were never cut out for this business anyway. It's better this way. You can go back to making dresses for your little shop while I take Passionis to new heights."

"Passionis?" I echo, the name of his company leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. "You want to ruin me just to make your own company look good?"

"It's not personal, Daisy. It's business. You'll learn that one day." he says standing up and straightening his jacket. "But for now, enjoy your stay. You'll be out soon enough. I'm sure they'll have you back on the street before you know it."

And with that, he walks out of the room, leaving me utterly crushed.