“I'll give it some thought, sir," Lilah responded with due consideration. "But it may be quite some time before I can commit."

"That's alright," he conceded, a flicker of hope in his eyes. "Better to have you eventually than not at all. And Lilah, are you available this evening? How about dinner?"

She accepted the invitation.

After the conversation ended, Lilah noticed her messages in her fans' chat had been leaked on social media. her followers group Among were detractors, lurking incognito, and it was one such adversary who had shared her conversations, mocking her bravado and questioning her talent.

"She thinks she's on top because she sold a few pieces?" scoffed the critic online. "Anyone who appreciates her work must be blind to true artistry. Katie's designs outshine hers by miles."

Katie's supporters joined in, laughing derisively at Lilah. "She's clueless and green with envy over Katie. No need for her to be so sarcastic, right? Truth is, Katie's talent eclipses Lilah's.”

“Lilah Phillips is Like a mouse envying the grace of a swan. Let's drop it; it's too easy to mock her."

“Katie's star shines bright, while Lilah only throws shade. Trashy move!" someone tweeted.

“Lilah Phillips, you owe Katie an apology! She's leagues ahead of you."

Fans often mirrored their idols' perceived traits; Katie's fans were relentless, bombarding Lilah with demands for an apology on her Twitter page, accusing her of slandering Katie.

Among the chaos, some fair-minded netizens couldn't fathom what Lilah had supposedly said about Katie. These defenders of Lilah were quickly labeled as trolls by Katie's fervent admirers. Eventually, they withdrew from the fray, their opinion of Katie soured by the behavior of her fans.

When Lilah's day ended, she headed to a reserved restaurant within a hotel. The large private room was sparsely populated, save for a few globally recognized professors and the president himself.

Greetings were warm when Lilah arrived, but the cordial atmosphere was pierced by an urgent message on her phone, prompting her face to cloud over. “Sorry, everyone, but there's been an accident with my child. I need to leave immediately. Rain check on the dinner?" she said, her voice tinged with regret.

“Of course, go ahead. Family first," they responded understandingly.

With a swift nod, Lilah exited with haste.

As she left the elevator, she inadvertently brushed shoulders with someone. Katie's brow furrowed as she recognized the figure moving away. “Was that Lilah Phillips?" she pondered briefly.

Dismissing the encounter, Katie had come with the hope of a casual greeting with the dining academics. Despite her associate professor status, joining them wasn't an option, but a polite hello seemed harmless enough.

Lilah's panic subsided as she found Jerrold, her son, sitting calmly on the sofa. Rushing to his side, she quickly assessed him. “Jerrold, what's happened to your hand?" she asked, her voice laced with both concern and relief.

Gerard had gifted Jerrold a phone before he left, so that the boy could contact Lilah. While Jerrold missed his mom, his attempts at texting were clumsy; he settled for a selfie, innocently boasting about his study time.

Yet Lilah's eyes zeroed in on the bandage wrapped around her son's hand. Her heart skipped a beat. That was why she hurried back.

“Mommy, I'm fine, really. I got a little burn while boiling water,"

Jerrold said, his casual tone hiding the pride he felt, not expecting his mom to rush home over a small burn. He resolved then, bathed in her concern, to love her even more fiercely.

Lilah unwrapped the bandage with the tenderness of a summer breeze.

The wound was superficial. "Next time, ask the nanny, sweetie. Or call me-I'll always come," she soothed, brushing his hair back from his forehead.