Chapter 7: Whispers on the Wind

Chapter 7: Whispers on the Wind

The viral article was a ghost at the feast. On the surface, it was a triumph. The phone at Second-Chance Threads rang constantly with inquiries from collectors and stylists in cities Elara had only dreamed of visiting. Customers came in holding their phones, the bright screen of the National Style Feed article a silent testament to her talent. Clara was ecstatic, Liam was immensely proud, but for Elara, the success was tainted with a sharp, metallic tang of fear.

Being the "Retail Phoenix" meant she was no longer invisible. Every time the shop bell chimed, her head would snap up, a jolt of adrenaline anticipating a face from her past. Every unfamiliar number on her phone sent a wave of nausea through her. She was a woman in hiding who had suddenly been pushed onto a brightly lit stage, and she couldn't shake the feeling that someone in the audience held a loaded gun.

She had just finished a call with a vintage buyer from Chicago when a notification popped up on her phone. Not a text, but a direct message on the store’s Instagram account, from a profile with no picture and a generic, computer-generated name.

Is this Elara Vance? The Elara who used to work at the Seraphina Foundation? I read the article. I think this is you. Please tell me it is.

Elara’s heart seized. Her fingers went numb, and she nearly dropped her phone. It had happened. The past had found her.

Liam, who was sketching a logo at their small kitchen table, saw the color drain from her face. “What is it?”

She wordlessly handed him the phone. He read the message, his expression hardening. “Delete it,” he said instantly, his voice low and protective. “Block them. You don’t owe them anything, El. You escaped.”

“But who is it?” she whispered, wrapping her arms around herself. “What do they want?”

“It doesn't matter. Nothing good can come from looking back.”

She knew he was right. The logical, self-preserving part of her brain screamed at her to press the block button and throw her phone into a river. But the other part, the part that still woke up in a cold sweat dreaming of Diana’s drunken rage, the part that flinched at the sound of packing tape, needed to know. It was an old, aching wound, and this message was a finger pressing directly on it.

With trembling hands, she typed a one-word reply.

Who is this?

The response was immediate. It’s Maria. From the front desk. You hired me. Please, can we talk? Not on here. I can call you. It’s important.

Maria. The bright, eager young woman she had trained, the one who had sent her that last, desperate text warning her to stay away. A flicker of warmth cut through the fear. Maria had believed in her.

“It’s Maria,” she told Liam, her voice barely audible.

Liam’s protective stance softened, but only slightly. “Be careful, El.”

She gave Maria her number. A minute later, her phone rang, the caller ID showing an unknown number with a familiar area code. She took a deep breath, walked into the tiny bedroom for privacy, and answered.

“Hello?”

“Elara? Oh, thank God, it’s really you,” a hushed, frantic voice whispered on the other end. “I’m so sorry to bother you, I just… when I saw that article, I couldn’t believe it. I’m so happy for you. We all are.”

“We?” The word was cautious.

“The ones who knew the truth,” Maria clarified, her voice cracking with emotion. “Listen, I don’t have much time. I had to use a burner app to call you. Things… things got really bad after you left.”

Elara sat on the edge of the bed, her knuckles white as she gripped the phone. “What happened, Maria?”

“It was like the heart of the place left with you,” Maria began, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Sales fell off a cliff. The whole system you built just… collapsed without you there to run it. The department store partnership you secured? They pulled out. Said the management was ‘unreliable and erratic.’ Diana started drinking more, right there in the office. She was a mess, angry all the time, blaming everyone but herself.”

Elara closed her eyes, picturing the beautiful, thriving store she had built descending into chaos. It was a bitter, vindicating image.

“The numbers got so bad that corporate finally had to step in,” Maria continued, her voice dropping even lower, as if she were afraid of being overheard even now. “They sent in a team of auditors. They went through everything. The books, the inventory logs, all of it. Your logs, Elara. They were perfect. Meticulous. And they didn’t match Diana’s expense reports. They didn’t match the inventory at all.”

The crimson handbag flashed in Elara’s mind. The ‘personal gifts.’ The hushed, angry phone calls about money.

“They found it all,” Maria confirmed, as if reading her thoughts. “For over a year, she’d been skimming. High-end donations would come in, and she’d log them as damaged or low-value, then sell them on a private website. The Voss partnership you landed? She treated it like her personal piggy bank. That’s what all those angry calls were about. She was in massive debt to someone, and she was using the foundation to pay them off.”

A wave of dizziness washed over Elara. She had been right. Every suspicion, every gut feeling Liam had voiced, it had all been true. She wasn’t crazy. She hadn’t been paranoid. She had been standing on a rotten floorboard, and it had finally given way.

“They fired her about a month after you left,” Maria said, the satisfaction in her voice sharp and clear. “They didn’t let her pack her things. Two security guards escorted her out the front door in the middle of the day. It was… it was something to see.”

A fierce, savage joy surged through Elara’s veins. It was the vindication she had craved in her darkest moments. The image of Diana, stripped of her power and prestige, facing a public and undeniable humiliation, was a balm on her shattered pride. Diana hadn't won. She had self-destructed.

But the feeling was fleeting, extinguished by Maria’s next words.

“The thing is, Elara… it was too late. The damage was done. The auditors found so much rot, and the branch is losing so much money… corporate is shutting us down.”

“What?”

“The entire branch,” Maria repeated, her voice thick with unshed tears. “The Seraphina Foundation is pulling out of the city completely. They’re liquidating everything. We all got our notices last week. The store you built, the one you turned into something magical… it’s all going to be gone by the end of the month.”

The phone call ended soon after, with Maria wishing her well and Elara offering hollow words of comfort. She sat on the bed in silence, the hum of the call’s disconnection echoing in her ears. The vindication had evaporated, leaving a bitter, ashen taste in her mouth.

Liam found her there, sitting in the near-darkness. “You were right,” she said, her voice flat. “She was embezzling. They fired her.”

He came and sat beside her, taking her hand. He didn’t say ‘I told you so.’ He just waited.

“But it’s not enough,” she whispered, staring at the beige wall of their tiny room. “She’s gone, but she took the whole ship down with her. Maria is losing her job. Everyone I hired is losing their job. The partnerships are gone. The store is gone. It doesn't feel like justice, Liam. It just feels… like a bigger mess.”

Diana’s downfall hadn’t cleared her name; it had just left a crater. Winning her own quiet success a thousand miles away suddenly felt small, selfish even. The whispers on the wind had brought her the truth, but the truth wasn't a clean, satisfying resolution. It was a complex, ugly tangle. And looking at her hands, the hands that had built two businesses from nothing, Elara felt a new, dangerous thought begin to form. Being the Retail Phoenix who rose from her own ashes wasn't enough. Not anymore.