Rebirth: Love me Again-Chapter 305: Stolen Dreams

[EVE]

I wasn't sure what was happening in the days that followed. Everything felt like a fog, a blur of moments slipping through my fingers before I could grasp them.

But somehow, I found myself rushing to Hyun's studio.

Something in my gut told me something was wrong. And when I stepped inside, that feeling solidified into certainty.

The atmosphere was heavy, suffocating. Like someone had died.

The usually bright and vibrant workspace was eerily quiet. The assistants, the designers, the seamstresses—all wore expressions of dread. Their movements were sluggish, their voices hushed whispers of panic.

My heart pounded. I strode through the studio and straight into Hyun's office.

He was sitting at his desk, hunched over, his hands gripping his temples like he was trying to keep himself together. His eyes were red-rimmed, brimming with unshed tears.

"Hyun," I called, my voice sharp. "What's going on?"

At the sound of my voice, he looked up. For a moment, it seemed like his resolve would shatter right then and there, but instead of breaking, he swallowed it down.

Still, I saw it.

The sheer defeat in his expression.

"Eve . . ." His voice was barely above a whisper.

Beside him, Georgina, his secretary, clenched her jaw before turning the laptop on the desk toward me. "It's worse than you think."

I stepped forward and glanced at the screen.

The moment my eyes landed on it, a sharp, blinding headache hit me.

Greta's Spring Line Collection.

The designs, the silhouettes, the patterns, even the fabrics—they were ours.

A cold wave of nausea crashed over me.

"Don't tell me . . ." I exhaled slowly, pressing my fingers against my temple. "This is Astrid all over again. How did this happen? How did our Spring Line get stolen?"

I should be hysterical right now. I should be flipping tables, screaming, demanding answers.

But I felt nothing.

Maybe I was too tired. Maybe I was too broken.

Or maybe I had just gotten used to everything I built being taken from me.

Georgina tightened her grip on the desk, frustration clear in every inch of her stance. "Ever since the Astrid incident, we've been careful. We took every precaution to secure our designs. No single staff member ever saw the full collection. Every seamstress worked on different parts to ensure no one knew the entire line except us."

I clenched my jaw. Then how?

"How did this happen?" I asked, my voice sharper now. "Who else knew about these designs? Who could've sold them—again—to another designer?"

Hyun squeezed his eyes shut, a deep tremor running through his body. "Eve . . . I'm sorry."

I turned to him, frowning. "Why are you apologizing? This isn't your fault—"

"Isn't it?" he choked out. "I should have been more careful. I should have—"

Georgina cut in, her voice colder than usual. "Eve. I checked everyone. I went through every security camera."

My stomach twisted.

She held my gaze. "Our staff is clean. No one entered the office except you, me, Hyun . . . and your father."

The world seemed to tilt beneath my feet.

I froze.

My father.

Of course. He had full access to Hyun's office. A month ago, he had complete authority in my company—until I transferred him to my real estate business so he wouldn't cause any trouble.

But could he really do it? He was my father, for heaven's sake!

I bit my lip, my fingers curling into fists. I didn't want to believe it.

I didn't want to entertain the thought that my own father could have done this.

Not after everything I had already lost.

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Not after Cole.

"Do you have a backup plan?" I asked, my voice tight. I needed to focus. I couldn't spiral now.

Hyun let out a shaky breath, gripping his hair in frustration. "They took everything, Eve."

My chest tightened.

He looked up at me, and for the first time, I saw it.

The sheer exhaustion. The sleepless nights. The endless hours spent perfecting this line—only for it to be stolen again.

"This was supposed to be our moment," he whispered. "Dean Frizkiel is coming to model our line. We can't just cancel."

Dean Frizkiel.

The international model. Evangeline Heart's son.

This collection was more than just a launch for Hyun. It was his ticket to getting noticed by Evangeline Heart herself.

His chance to prove himself.

And now?

I let out a slow, measured breath. "How many dresses can you make in three days?"

Hyun flinched, his face pale. He opened his mouth, then closed it.

Georgina stared at me like I was insane. "Three days? Eve, it's impossible."

"No," I said. "We just need to know how much we can pull off."

Hyun swallowed hard, running a shaky hand through his hair. "Maybe . . . five dresses. Ten, if we have more staff."

I nodded. "Then we get more staff."

"But, Eve—"

"No." My voice was firm. I wasn't giving up. "I'll talk to Victor. I'll see if we can pull an all-nighter team together."

Even as I said it, I knew.

There wasn't enough time.

Hyun had been generous in saying we had "less than a week."

In reality, we had four days.

Hyun exhaled shakily, his eyes darkening. He rubbed his face, his fingers trembling. "Eve . . . I don't know if I can do this."

He was breaking.

His sleepless nights, his stress, the weight of failure—it was crushing him.

And it was my fault. There was no one else who could have done it but my father.

I should have been more careful. I should have seen this coming.

But I didn't.

And now?

Now, Hyun was about to give up.

I clenched my fists. I couldn't let that happen. I straightened, forcing steel into my voice. "We are not canceling this launch."

Hyun looked at me, his expression raw with despair.

"We're going to fix this," I said, my voice unwavering.

Even if it was hopeless.

Even if I was barely holding myself together.

I had already lost too much.

I wasn't going to lose this too.