Chapter 395: Standing Her Up
"Morning," he said flatly.
"Morning," Emily replied with equal composure.
A deliberate distance hung between them—like two strangers sharing a rental.
The three children hadn't woken yet. In the dining room, only the two of them remained. A servant brought breakfast. Emily ate quietly while Charles scrolled through financial news on his tablet.
"I'm going back to the office today," Emily said suddenly.
Charles looked up. "Mm."
"The children—"
"I'll take them to school. If you work late tonight, I can pick them up."
"Fine." Emily nodded, saying nothing more.
Breakfast ended in silence. Emily picked up her bag and started for the door when Charles suddenly called after her.
"Emily."
She turned, meeting his eyes.
Charles held her gaze, his expression complicated. "Last night... I'm sorry."
Emily's heart clenched, but her face remained calm. "It's fine. You were right. What we had is over."
She turned and left, her heels striking the floor with crisp, resolute clicks.
Charles watched her retreating figure, his fingers curling unconsciously until the knuckles went white.
At Obscura Fashion headquarters, the CEO's office.
Emily had barely settled into her chair when her assistant Nora Adams burst through the door, face pale.
"Ms. Johnson, we have a problem."
"What is it?" Emily looked up.
"The spokesperson for the new season's ad campaign—Ms. Thomas... she bailed. Last minute. The entire crew is already on site, the venue's booked, we absolutely have to shoot today or we'll never make the deadline."
Emily's brow furrowed. "Why?"
"Her agent said... said she's feeling unwell and needs rest." Nora paused, lowering her voice. "But I heard she's actually doing an ad shoot for Echo Media. So she broke our contract to go film for them instead."
"Echo Media?"
"Yes." Nora hesitated, then admitted, "It's owned by the Windsor Group."
The Windsor Group.
The news made Emily's heart sink.
Was it a coincidence? Or... was Charles behind this?
She shook her head, dismissing the thought. Now wasn't the time for that.
"Have we contacted backup options?" Emily asked.
"We tried, but either their schedules don't work, or... or they heard about Ms. Thomas backing out and don't dare take the gig. They're afraid of offending the Windsor Group." Nora's voice grew smaller. "Ms. Johnson, what do we do? If we can't shoot today, the entire quarter's marketing campaign will be delayed. The losses will be massive."
Emily rose and walked to the window, watching the traffic flow below while her mind raced.
This season's theme for Obscura Fashion was "The Fusion of Classical and Modern," featuring high-end custom pieces aimed at discerning, accomplished clients with taste and sophistication. The original choice, Evelyn, was popular, but her image skewed sweet and bubbly—never the best fit, really.
Marketing had only settled on her for the traffic she'd generate.
Now that she'd bailed, perhaps... this was an opportunity.
"Summon Marketing and Advertising. Meeting in ten minutes," Emily said, turning around with steely resolve.
In the conference room, the atmosphere was tense.
Marketing Director Henry was sweating bullets. "Ms. Johnson, finding a replacement this late—it's impossible! The right talent either has no openings or won't risk crossing the Windsor Group."
"Then we find someone who isn't talent," Emily said calmly.
Henry blinked. "Not talent? Then who? Random people off the street? But our brand positioning—"
"What is Obscura Fashion's positioning?" Emily cut him off.
"High-end custom, fusion of classical and modern, targeting clients who..." Henry suddenly understood. "Ms. Johnson, do you mean—"
Emily surveyed the room. "We're not looking for an influencer. We're looking for someone who truly embodies the spirit of Obscura Fashion. Someone with taste, sophistication, a story, depth. They don't need to be famous. But when they appear, people should immediately think—this is Obscura Fashion."
Silence filled the conference room.
"Where do we find someone like that?" the Advertising Director ventured quietly.
Emily pulled out her phone and scrolled to a contact she hadn't used in ages. A confident smile curved her lips.
"I'll find them."
Emily dialed the number.
It rang for a long time before someone picked up. A lazy, magnetic male voice came through, rough with sleep.
"Hello?"
"Daniel, it's me." Emily's voice was soft, tinged with amusement.
The line went quiet for a few seconds, then came a low chuckle. "Emily? What made you suddenly think of calling me?"
"I need a favor," Emily said directly.
"Oh? What kind of favor makes the CEO of Obscura Fashion call personally?" Daniel's voice held curiosity.
Emily explained the situation briefly. "Obscura Fashion's new campaign—the spokesperson backed out last minute. I need someone who embodies what Obscura Fashion stands for. I thought of you."
A soft laugh sounded through the phone. "Me? Emily, I'm a violinist, not a model."
"But you have everything Obscura Fashion needs—taste, sophistication, a story, depth. And your presence is distinctive. Classical with a modern edge. Elegant with an untamed streak. That's exactly what Obscura Fashion is trying to express this season."
Daniel fell silent for a moment. "When's the shoot?"
"Today. Now. I know it's sudden, but... I really need your help."
A sigh came through the line. "Emily, do you have any idea how packed my schedule is? I have a performance in Zephyria next week. This week was supposed to be for rehearsals..."
"I know. But Daniel, this is truly important to me. Obscura Fashion was my mother's legacy. Right now, it's the only thing I have left to hold onto."
Her last words came out quiet, but Daniel caught the exhaustion and vulnerability beneath them.
He was silent for so long that Emily thought he would refuse. Then finally, he spoke: "Send me the address. I'll be there in two hours."
Emily's eyes lit up instantly. "Thank you, Daniel!"
Daniel chuckled softly. "Don't thank me yet. If it turns out terrible, I won't do it a second time."
"It won't. You're going to be Obscura Fashion's best spokesperson ever."
Two hours later, a black Bentley pulled up outside Obscura Fashion headquarters.
The door opened and a man in a black trench coat stepped out. Tall and lean, he carried himself with distinctive elegance. Wavy hair fell casually across his forehead. Gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, behind which his eyes were deep and languid.
He carried a black violin case in one hand, walking into the building with unhurried grace.
The receptionist stared, stunned. Before she could ask who he was, Emily emerged from the elevator herself and walked forward to greet him.