Chapter 398

Who could have foreseen such a twist of fate? Eleanor—the enigmatic, resilient woman Hazel both hated and feared—was none other than Layla, the celebrated genius designer Hazel had idolized for years. Hazel’s admiration for Layla bordered on worship, her dreams intricately woven around the hope of learning from her. Meeting her idol had always been her ultimate aspiration. But this meeting was nothing like Hazel had imagined. Standing before Eleanor now, she felt an agonizing mix of awe, betrayal, and despair. Her dreams had been dashed—torn apart by the hands she had long revered. "You can’t do this, Eleanor!" Hazel cried out, her voice raw with desperation. Her trembling hands clenched into fists at her sides. "Stanford is my dream. You can’t take that away from me!" “Your dream?” Eleanor’s sharp tone cut through the air like a blade. She turned, her gaze piercing through Hazel, rendering her powerless. Her lips curved into a bitter smile, though her eyes glimmered with cold disdain.