I was grateful Ashton had taken over the company. I really was.
But staying here like this—being the face of the brand, parading around with a title that didn't belong to me—was already starting to mess with my head.
I hadn't designed a single new piece since the buyout.
Every idea felt second-guessed before it even made it to my sketchpad.
While I debated whether I could fake an allergy to the paint fumes and just escape, my phone buzzed.
Bank notification. Another two million had landed.
Monthly transfer, right on schedule.
I hadn't even touched the last batch.
Okay, I'd bought some clothes, a few handbags. That was it.
Counting the ten million Ashton had wrangled from his father and evil stepmother back at that birthday dinner, my account was now sitting jus
