Chapter 12 - Reclaiming the Drawing Board
While the legal machine ground Derek Vance into dust, Joselyn began the grueling process of rebuilding her life from the foundation up.
The first few weeks were painful. The psychological scars of emotional isolation don't vanish overnight. Joselyn moved her things into the guest wing of my home, set up a drafting table near the French doors overlooking the garden, and threw herself back into her work.
One evening, I walked into her workspace carrying two mugs of chamomile tea. She was sitting at her desk, staring intently at her laptop screen, surrounded by sketches and layout proofs for an upcoming civic project.
"You're working late, sweetheart," I said gently, setting a mug down beside her arm.
Joselyn looked up, offering a tired but genuine smile. "I'm redesigning my agency portfolio, Mom. When I was with Derek... he kept convincing me that my work wasn't good enough to pitch to major corporate clients. He kept telling me I needed his 'executive branding' to be taken seriously."
I took a chair beside her and looked at the sketches on her desk. They were bold, clean, and architecturally brilliant—showing a mastery of space and light that few young designers possessed.
"Derek didn't want you to succeed on your own, Joselyn," I said softly. "Because if you knew how talented you actually were, you never would have needed him."
Joselyn’s eyes filled with tears, but she didn't let them fall. She reached across the table, picked up her stylus, and looked back at her screen with a newfound fire in her eyes.
"I’m applying for the independent design bid for the new city library downtown," she announced, her voice steady and resolute. "No middlemen. No corporate sponges. Just my work."
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"Then you'll win it," I smiled, squeezing her hand. "Because you're a Weber."
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