Chapter 19

"A what now?" My brain did a double take and tripped over its own feet. Savannah's grin widened. "That necklace you designed? The one Eliza Black wore on the red carpet last week? It blew up. Press coverage, socials, even one of those trashy gossip TikToks. Nyx Collective finally went viral, and it's thanks to you." Huh. I relaxed. So I wasn't getting fired today. "So here's the deal," she added breezily. "Ten grand. It'll be in your account by the end of the day." I nearly hugged her. Nearly. But I settled for a deeply heartfelt thank you and a facial expression that screamed "I suddenly believe in capitalism again." Back at my desk—yes, freelancers got cubicles too at Nyx Collective, mostly for the aesthetic—I dropped into my chair and tried to act casual. Which was difficult, because my inner monologue was doing the cha-cha to the sound of incoming funds. Clearly, word had already spread, because no sooner had I logged in than someone from the next desk leaned over and whispered, "I