Flora’s Guide to a Second Chance at Love and Life novel Chapter 1953

Addison perched on a jagged rock by the sea, eyes fixed on the ferry chugging closer. With a flick of her thumb, she powered off her phone—no more calls, no more texts. The second she made it across the water and set foot back in the States, she’d change every bit of her contact info. New number, new everything.

The thought made her giddy. She could almost taste her fresh start—a whole new life waiting for her on the other side.

And as for Fiona? Let her reputation crash and burn. Let the scandals follow her everywhere. Who cared if Fiona had money? Addison still managed to play her like a fool.

But before Addison could board the ferry, the event staff showed up, flanked by a wall of security guards. They surrounded her in an instant.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

The organizer’s voice boomed from behind, sending a chill down Addison’s spine. She turned around slowly, heart pounding.

There was no way she could fight her way past these guys.

Still, Addison kept her cool. She forced a steady voice. “Is there a problem here?”

“Grab her! Bring her to Ms. Fiona! You think you can spread rumors about Ms. Fiona and just walk away?”

At the signal, the guards moved in.

Panic surged through Addison. She backed away, step by step, until she was teetering at the edge of the rocks. Nothing but open water behind her—no escape.

In one wild move, Addison dove straight into the sea.

The white fabric became a canvas for a tree heavy with blooming plum blossoms. Beneath its branches, a girl knelt with her head bowed—lost, searching for a way home.

Satisfied with the design, Fiona grabbed her scissors and got to work. She was already on to the next phase while most of the other contestants were still stuck on their first drafts.

The final round gave everyone three whole days to take their design from sketch to finished dress—plenty of time, if you knew what you wanted. If anyone got tired or needed inspiration, the organizers had set up a cozy lounge for breaks.

But Fiona barely paused. Her hands moved with practiced speed, cutting the soft white chiffon into the rough shape of a dress in just a few minutes.

Then came the hard part—bringing her painted vision to life on the real fabric. Every stroke had to match her sketch exactly. The work was slow and demanding, and as the hours dragged on, more and more designers slipped off to the lounge to rest. But Fiona just kept going, completely absorbed, not willing to stop for anything.