Rebirth: Love me Again - Chapter 306

Chapter 306: A Deal with Fate
[EVE]

I was drowning. Not literally, but in the sheer problems of everything collapsing around me.

It felt like when it rained, it didn’t just pour—it stormed, relentlessly, without mercy. And for me, the downpour had been raging since the start of the new year.

I had lost Cole.

I had no idea what to do with my family.

And now . . . this.

What had I done to deserve this?

All I ever wanted was to find my real family, live a peaceful life away from the chaos, the endless games, the betrayals. But reality had other plans. My so-called happy ending was unraveling into a waking nightmare.

The sudden slam of a door jolted me out of my thoughts.

“Excuse me!” A staff member rushed inside, slightly breathless. “I’m sorry to barge in, but we have a problem. Something urgent.”

Georgina frowned, already sensing trouble. “What’s going on?”

I sighed, my headache intensifying. Another problem?

The staff member hesitated, her gaze shifting between Georgina and me before settling on Hyun. “Mr. Dean Frizkiel is in the lobby. He’s asking to see Mr. Hyun.”

Hyun paled instantly. “Oh no.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “I can’t face him right now . . . not after losing my designs.”

A new voice cut through the air, smooth yet unmistakably amused.

“Lost your designs?”

The words sent a jolt through me, not just because of what was said, but because of how it was said. There was something unnervingly familiar about that voice—like a song I had once loved but forgotten.

The staff barely had time to react before the door swung open wider, and in stepped a man.

Tall. Lean. Effortlessly handsome.

Tousled black hair framed his face, a pair of sleek glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. His entire frame was wrapped in designer clothing—not the kind that screamed wealth but the kind that whispered exclusivity, elegance woven into every fiber. Even with his glasses and a mask covering most of his face, his aura was undeniable.

Then, without hesitation, he removed both.

Ash-gray eyes. Piercing. Intense.

And the handsome man beneath the mask was revealed.

“Apologies for the intrusion,” he said smoothly, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. “The name’s Dean.”

Before anyone could react, another man came rushing in behind him, looking exasperated.

“Dean! What did I tell you about waiting? I stepped away for one second—one second—and you’ve already disappeared and barged in here?”

Unlike Dean’s effortless grace, this man was slightly disheveled, his tailored suit slightly ruffled from his hurried movements. He straightened his tie, exhaling sharply before turning to us with a more composed expression.

“Apologies for the disturbance,” he said with a polite nod. “I’m Fern, Dean’s manager. We didn’t mean to intrude. We’ll be on our way.”

But Dean wasn’t listening. He waved a dismissive hand, his sharp gaze settling on Hyun. “So tell me,” he said, voice like silk but carrying an edge, “what’s this I heard about losing your designs?”

Hyun opened his mouth but no words came out. His face burned with humiliation, unable to find the courage to explain himself in front of the son of his idol.

It was Georgina who stepped in, quickly summarizing the situation.

Dean listened in silence, his expression unreadable. Beside him, Fern sighed. “In this industry, things like this happen more often than you think. But,” he added, giving Hyun a pointed look, “it’s still partly your fault for letting it happen.”

“Yes, we have no excuse for this blunder,” Georgina admitted.

Dean leaned back slightly, exhaling through his nose. “That’s a breach of contract, you realize?” he said, voice calm but cutting. “We flew all the way here. The media’s already buzzing about how I’d be modeling your designs. And now, suddenly, there’s nothing to model? That makes me look bad.”

“With all due respect,” I interjected before anyone else could, my voice steady, “nothing is set in stone yet. We’re still working on a solution.”

Silence.

Dean’s sharp gaze snapped to mine.

And for a moment—just a fleeting second—his eyes widened, his head tilting slightly as if he was processing something.

Like he had just recognized me.

“And who are you?” Fern asked, breaking the moment.

I met his gaze, unflinching. “Eve Rosette. I’m part owner of Hyun’s studio.”

“I see,” Fern muttered, rubbing his chin. “Then tell me, Miss Eve, how exactly do you propose to fix this in less than four days? Unless you have spare designs lying around, I’d suggest you cut your losses, pay for damages, and take responsibility for this waste of time.”

“Fern.”

Dean’s voice was quiet, yet it commanded immediate attention.

His eyes never left mine as he slowly lifted a hand, silencing his manager.

Then, as if arriving at a decision, he turned to Fern.

“My mother has a few dresses from her spring line that she didn’t use, right?”

Fern blinked. “Huh? Oh. Yes, she does.”

Dean didn’t hesitate. “We’ll use those. Alter them a little to make them unique to Hyun’s brand. I’ll have them delivered here immediately. They’ll arrive first thing tomorrow.”

The room fell into stunned silence.

“What?”

The word left my lips at the exact same time as Hyun, Georgina, and Fern.

We all stared at Dean as if he had just suggested something impossible—because, in a way, he had.

Fern looked at him like he had grown a second head. “Dean, are you serious? You’re suggesting—”

But Dean’s eyes were still locked onto mine, his expression unreadable.

I swallowed, realizing something in that moment.

Dean Frizkiel wasn’t just here to model. He had just placed himself in the middle of this storm.

And I had no idea why.

Fern was the first to break the stunned silence. “Wait. You want to use your mother’s spare dresses for them?” His voice was tight with disbelief.

“That’s right.” Dean’s reply was casual, as if he were merely offering an umbrella in the rain instead of one of the most renowned designer’s exclusive, unreleased works.