Chapter 6 - The Story People Wanted
Second Life launched as a limited online preview on a Monday morning. By noon, every prototype had been reserved.
Priya ran through the workshop waving her laptop. “We sold the entire first batch.”
Theo lifted both hands. “I would like the record to show that I always believed in us.”
“You called it a glorified recycling project,” Celeste said.
“Belief can evolve.”
Naomi should have felt triumphant. Instead, she watched the order numbers climb while her mother’s warning sat in the back of her mind. A successful product could force the company to reveal the accounting behind it. It could also make powerful people decide she was dangerous.
Weston appeared in the doorway. “Congratulations.”
“You knew the numbers before we did.”
“I knew the reservations were strong. I waited for Priya to confirm them.”
“Why?”
“Because you asked me to judge the work, not manage the applause.”
She wanted to smile and refused to let herself. “The launch needs a production schedule.”
“Already underway.”
“And the labor audit?”
“Also underway.”
His answer surprised her. “Why?”
“Because a repairable product means nothing if the people making it are treated as disposable.”
Celeste looked from one of them to the other. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear chemistry in a budget meeting.”
Naomi nearly dropped her tablet. Weston’s expression remained composed, but the corner of his mouth lifted.
By evening, a photograph of Naomi and Weston standing beside the prototypes appeared on a local business page. The caption read: Billionaire Heir Gives Struggling Designer Her Big Break.
The story spread overnight.
Comments called her a gold digger, a genius, a charity case, and a secret fiancée. Someone found a photograph of Naomi carrying groceries outside her apartment. Someone else posted Weston’s dating history, which consisted mostly of rumors and one long-ago engagement that had ended without explanation.
Priya read the comments aloud until Naomi took the phone away.
“People want a simple story,” Priya said.
“They can have one. He is the owner, I am an employee, and we are not dating.”
“That is accurate but not entertaining.”
“Accuracy is underrated.”
The next morning, Marcus called Naomi into his office. A legal adviser sat beside him.
“You have become the public face of Second Life,” Marcus said.
“I didn’t ask to be.”
“Public attention is part of modern business. We want you to participate in interviews.”
“About the product?”
“About the opportunity Weston gave you.”
Naomi understood. They wanted the story of a poor girl rescued by a generous millionaire. It would make Weston look compassionate and make the company look progressive without requiring anyone to discuss why she had been laughed at.
“I won’t describe myself as rescued,” she said.
Marcus leaned back. “You were unemployed before this.”
“I was working three jobs.”
“The distinction is not useful to the audience.”
“Then find a better audience.”
The legal adviser closed her notebook. “You should consider the visibility a privilege.”
“A privilege is not a contract.”
Marcus’s face hardened. “You are still on a thirty-day trial.”
“Then evaluate my products.”
When she left, Weston was waiting in the corridor. “How much did you hear?”
“Enough.”
“Did you send him?”
“No.”
“Did you know the company wanted to use my personal life to sell furniture?”
“I knew the marketing team was planning interviews. I didn’t approve the angle.”
“You should have.”
He stepped closer, then stopped. “You’re right.”
“You say that too easily.”
“Would you prefer I argue?”
“I would prefer you notice things before I have to point at them.”
His expression tightened. “I am trying.”
“Trying is not the same as changing.”
Weston lowered his voice. “I can cancel the interviews.”
“No. We’ll do one.”
“Why?”
“Because if they want a story, I will give them the truth. I asked for a chance. You gave me one. I built the collection. Nobody saved me.”
The interview took place in the showroom. Naomi spoke about reclaimed materials, workers’ wages, and the need to make quality accessible without making it cheap. When the reporter asked whether Weston had hired her because of her appearance, Naomi looked directly into the camera.
“He hired me because he saw work the panel refused to see. The more important question is why the panel refused.”
The clip went viral by nightfall.
Orders doubled. Customer emails praised the honesty. Employees who had never spoken to Naomi began stopping by the workshop to tell her their own stories about being ignored.
But Marcus did not congratulate her. He sent a message ordering her to remove a public comment about repair guarantees. The comment had been part of her original proposal, but the legal team claimed the promise created liability.
Naomi carried the message to Weston’s office.
“If the company cannot honor the guarantee, we should not advertise it,” she said.
“Agreed.”
“You didn’t even read the message.”
“I read it before I sent it to you.”
“You sent it to me?”
“I wanted to see whether you would challenge it.”
She stared at him. “That is manipulative.”
“It is also a bad habit.”
“Then stop testing me.”
“I will.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I keep discovering how much I have to stop.”
The honesty silenced her. For one brief moment, the office seemed separate from the company, the family history, and the watching cameras. Weston looked tired. Naomi realized she was tired too.
“The collection belongs to the customers now,” she said. “Don’t let them turn it into a fairy tale.”
“What should we call it?”
“A beginning.”
May you like
Outside, another notification appeared on Priya’s phone. The story had changed again. This time, the headline asked whether Weston Ashford’s new designer was more than an employee.
Neither of them answered the question. Not yet.
