Loving The Better Brother novel Chapter 73

Finished

Chapter 73 Breather

WILLOW

I sighed and shook my head the moment the door closed behind Andrew. The silence that followed in my office felt heavy,

Rocco was still standing there, looking like he wanted to say something but was not quite sure how to begin. I leaned back in my chair and rubbed my temple slowly.

Something about Andrew Petrov told me one thing very clearly.

He was going to be a problem.

I exhaled slowly and shook my head again.

“It’s fine.” I said quietly before Rocco could start apologizing again. “Go back to your work.”

He looked uncertain.

“Miss Willow, I really tried to-

“I know,” I interrupted gently. “I don’t think of this as your fault.”

That seemed to ease him slightly.

He nodded once and then quietly left the room, closing the door behind him.

The moment I was alone again, I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling.

I pressed my lips together.

For someone who had just joined the company, he certainly acted like he already owned the place. I sat up straight and turned toward my laptop, suddenly feeling fired up after he demeaned my proposal.

My fingers began typing.

It was already established that Fiorane would be releasing a new Dahlia this year. The Dahlia had been one of the brand’s most iconic pieces for years. The last version that was released was years ago, but it was mostly a variation in colors and materials.

This time, I wanted something different. I wanted something timely but still classic. I believe Dahlia would have wanted an innovation to the bag, too.

I began writing carefully.

The new Dahlia would maintain its classic silhouette. That part was untouchable. The shape was what made it recognizable.

However, the details would evolve.

The stitching would be slightly more refined, and the structure would be lighter.

2:50 pm

Chapter 73 Breather

Finisher

It would still be unmistakably Fioranc

But the Dahlia was not the part Andrew seemned offended by.

It was the second idea.

I paused for a moment and tapped my finger lightly against the desk.

Then I muttered softly.

“A Zinnia.”

I typed the word into the document.

The Zinnia was a flower that looked similar to the Dahlia. It carried a similar fullness and charm, but it had

a different identity. It was simpler in some ways but still beautiful.

That was exactly what I envisioned.

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The Zinnia would be its own line–inspired by the elegance of Fiorane but designed for a different kind of accessibility.

I leaned forward and continued typing.

The idea was simple in theory, but required careful balance.

Fiorane was known as a luxury house. Its pieces were not meant for impulse purchases. They were meant to be collected, cherished, and kept.

People bought Fiorane bags as lifelong pieces.

However, that exclusivity also created a distance.

Many people admired Fiorane from afar, but never had the opportunity to experience owning one.

That was where the Zinnia line would come in.

It would not replace the Dahlia. It would not compete with it. Instead, it would act as a gateway.

The materials would still be high quality, but the construction would be more streamlined. The design would remain elegant, but the details would be simplified.

The point was not to dilute Fiorane’s prestige. It was to expand its story. Someone who bought a Zinnia bag might one day buy a Dahlia.

Someone who could not afford the Dahlia today could still carry a piece that reflected the same philosophy.

Luxury did not always have to mean exclusion.

Sometimes, it meant aspiration.

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Chapter 73 Breather

I leaned back slightly and reread what I had written.

The explanation made a lot of sense to me.

Ficahed

However, Andrew was already opposing it. As the new creative director, his voice carried influence. And without proper justification in front of the board, I could not simply overrule him.

Not unless-

I revealed the truth.

That I was the actual CEO of Fiorane.

I exhaled slowly.

That option still felt like lighting a match in a room full of gasoline. The moment I revealed myself, everything would change.

I closed my eyes briefly.

“I’m already tired,” I muttered quietly.

The day had been exhausting.

I looked at the clock. It was already evening. I had been working all day without even realizing it.

Just then, my phone buzzed on the desk.

I reached for it absentmindedly.

The moment I saw the name on the screen, my lips curved into a small smile.

Tristan.

I opened the message.

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