Free Web NovelChapter 141: Chapter 141 Building Dream
Christina’s POV
I sent Ysolde a message, my fingers hovering nervously over the screen.
"Thinking about starting my own studio. Thoughts?"
Her reply came almost instantly, "Finally! I’ve been waiting for you to leave Nyx Collective. Since Octavia tagged you last month, word is several brands have been keeping an eye on you."
I typed back quickly. "All small brands. None compare to Nyx."
"That’s exactly why you should do what you want. Find somewhere to grow instead of rotting in that depressing office."
My phone lit up with her incoming call.
"I’m free this week," she announced without preamble. "Bored out of my mind. Let’s go look at spaces."
We met that afternoon, and by the next day, we’d found the perfect spot.
It was just around the corner from Nyx, nestled between a tea shop and a massage parlor with darkened windows. The space had been a flower shop, but the owner was relocating and desperate to sell.
A wide, clean glass storefront let sunlight pour in evenly. The walls were a soft cream color with no tacky murals or cheesy decals. It was a blank canvas that still carried a faint eucalyptus scent.
A narrow staircase at the back led to a second floor. I immediately envisioned a client lounge area, private meeting rooms, and possibly even a coffee corner if the budget allowed.
"This will be your kingdom," Akira whispered in my mind. I couldn’t help but smile. She was right.
I circled the room twice, running my hands along the walls, checking if the floors creaked, examining the electrical wiring. It was perfect—spacious without feeling cavernous, modern but not sterile, well laid out with no awkward columns in the middle.
Ysolde loved it too, mainly because there was another space for rent directly across the street—a cake shop.
"That settles it," she declared immediately. "If I open a bakery, maybe my mother will stop complaining about me living rent-free, and Emmett might bitch less."
"Still fighting with Alpha Emmett?" I asked.
She rolled her eyes dramatically. "He called me a moron and said I was immature. Now he barely speaks to me, won’t even look at me when we’re in the same room. You know how Alphas get, thinking everyone in their pack should just follow orders without question or they’re challenging their authority. But seriously, I’m Emmett’s only sister, his one and only, and he treats me like this.
She flipped her hair back and smiled. "When I’m running my business empire, he’ll be begging for an audience."
"An empire built on cake?"
"Why not? Frederick Belmont did it, why can’t I?"
The determination in her voice was infectious. I wanted to be part of this empire-building. frёeweɓηovel.coɱ
"How will you run the place?"
"First, I’ll taste the cakes."
"Do you even bake?"
"God, no," she laughed. "I’ll completely renovate the place and hire people to keep the kitchen from burning down. I’ll be the manager and chief taster, and you’ll be my first VIP customer."
"No arguments there."
That night we went out for dinner. She chose a restaurant with brick walls, dim lighting, and cloth napkins. Her good mood lasted through dessert.
"Once we’re both moved in, I can come over whenever I want instead of waiting for you to finish work. I’ll just cross the street," she said.
"That reminds me," I frowned thoughtfully. "We should install an intercom system to keep intruders out. Business competition can get nasty, especially in our circle."
Ignoring my concern, she raised her glass. "To the future."
I lifted mine. "To the future."
Our glasses clinked, and we drank deeply.
After signing the lease, we started renovations immediately, beginning with my side. Most of the flower shop fixtures were unusable—cracked shelves, rusty hooks, water-stained countertops—all had to go.
Ysolde slapped a "Closed for Renovations" sign on her storefront and promptly forgot about it. She’d deal with it later, she said. For now, she was treating my studio like a real-life business tycoon game, cheerfully directing contractors and haggling over cabinet handles.
While we were drowning in packing tape and delivery boxes, I texted Priya. She wasn’t working at the time, so I offered her a temporary job, weekly pay, cash if she preferred.
The next day she showed up in sneakers with her hair casually piled on top of her head and single-handedly carried in a massive steel table.
Ysolde watched her drag it into position and muttered, "How is she stronger than both of us combined? Werewolf strength can be truly surprising sometimes."
The studio was too big for even Priya’s help. Three people weren’t enough.
"We need to hire someone," I said.
Ysolde held up her hand. "I’ve got this. I know people. I’ll find someone competent, punctual, and preferably not creepy. Most importantly, someone trustworthy—pack business isn’t something we can share with just anyone."
"Perfect. Just don’t get scammed."
I knew why she was sticking around. Being busy this week meant not going home, which meant not seeing Alpha Cassian, which meant not getting lectured by him.
"I’ve barely texted Alpha Cassian," she said smugly. "Being busy suits me just fine."
"Are you complaining or bragging?"
"Neither. I like how things are. This is a legitimate job. Once the cake shop is renovated and has proper staff, I might even turn it into one of those places with soft-colored walls that everyone posts on Instagram."
"You absolutely will."
She grinned at me, then tilted her head. "Hey, what do you want for your birthday?" freeweɓnøvel.com
I blinked, having completely forgotten about it.
I’d never placed much importance on birthdays. When I was little, Caroline would buy me cakes in plastic containers with piped frosting roses and hard sugar icing. Then she stopped. No one else noticed.
I doubt anyone in the Crescent Pack even remembers the date.
Beatrice’s birthday is February 8th. Mine is December 8th. Only two months apart, should be easy to remember.
Every year, the Crescent Pack throws her a party at the pack house. Full guest list, fancy catering, gold balloons tied to the staircase. Beatrice always wears something pink and sparkly, twirling all night, soaking up compliments. As Alpha Franklin’s favorite daughter, she’s always the center of attention at family gatherings.
Two months later, no one mentions my birthday.
"Their forgetfulness doesn’t make you unimportant," Akira said softly in my mind. "Some people are just oblivious."
Eventually, I stopped caring. I even forgot the date myself most years.
Only Ysolde remembered consistently, never missing a year, even when she was overseas. That’s what real friendship means; beyond pack politics and wolf drama, someone genuinely cares about you.
