I Made His Wife’s Dress Now I’ll Marry Another Chapter 07
Six years ago, in my first winter in Paris, I worked night shifts at a nearly bankrupt sample atelier.
One dawn, a gown intended for a buyers’ presentation refused to drape properly at the shoulder. Everyone was crowded around the dress form, arguing. I watched for ten minutes, then picked up a piece of chalk and altered two lines on the back panel.
Julien happened to walk in just then to collect on a defaulted investment.
When he saw the gown fall cleanly into place, he didn’t ask where I had studied. He simply laid three structural sketches on the table.
“Turn these into garments a person can actually breathe in, and I’ll pay this atelier’s rent for another three months.”
I pulled two all-nighters.
On the morning of the third day, he slid a contract with my name on it across the table.
Not assistant. Not anonymous patternmaker.
Structural Design Consultant.
Later, I helped his foundation evaluate ateliers and rebuild pattern archives. I also continued to refuse any public appearances.
Julien never pushed.
At the end of every contract, he left one line blank:
Credit to be determined by Clara.
Last night, when I told him I needed a husband, he didn’t ask who I wanted revenge on.
He only asked, “How close do you need me to stand?”
I answered, “Close enough that no one dares sign for me again.”