Chapter 59: The Non-Existent Agreement
The white gown spilled out of the black case like moonlight. It was a cool white, the fabric subtly shimmering like pearl. The cut was clean, without a single bead or stitch of lace.
Evelyn quickly stripped off her coat. Sophie helped her slip into the gown. The dress molded perfectly to her curves. The waist was cinched just right, the hem resting above her ankles, creating an elegant ripple when she moved.
“I knew it,” Sophie whispered, quickly fixing the back with two tiny pins.
“Listen, Evelyn.” Sophie gripped her shoulders, forcing her to look into the mirror. “When you walk out there, forget the judges, forget that bastard Damian. Treat it like your studio. You’re sharing your story, the story of this dress.”
“This dress is called ‘Rebirth,’ and so are you. Understand?”
A staff member poked her head in. “Evelyn? Two minutes!”
Time was up.
Evelyn slowly stood. The woman in the mirror felt foreign. The makeup was sharp, the eyes focused, the pure white gown wrapped around her. She was no longer the confined housewife.
She slowly raised her hand and gently touched the fabric. The cool, smooth feel miraculously calmed her racing heart. She squeezed the skirt, creating fine creases in the material, then released it.
She turned and walked toward the blinding lights of the stage, one steady step after another.
When Evelyn stepped onto the catwalk, the entire venue went silent.
On the panel, several senior judges, accustomed to seeing beautiful people in fine clothes, openly leaned forward, their astonishment clear. The white gown, ‘Rebirth,’ had no excess rhinestones, no lace, yet it perfectly sculpted every line of her body, flowing like moonlight. It wasn't the distant, trained slenderness of a model, but a soft, resilient feminine curve full of life.
“Evelyn,” the chief judge, a gray-haired French gentleman, broke the silence. “Your piece is very... unique. It seems to tell a story.”
Evelyn gave a slight nod, her gaze sweeping the panel before landing on Professor Victoria Hayes’s usually stern face. She saw a flicker of complex emotion—surprise, scrutiny, and a hint of acknowledgment.
“Yes, sir,” she said. “This dress is named ‘Rebirth.’ It tells a story of stripping away and rebuilding.”
“All our lives, we are given labels and roles—wife, mother, employee. Sometimes, these roles become heavy outer layers, until we forget who we truly are.”
She delicately lifted the hem, letting the luminous fabric shimmer under the lights.
“This is the purest, most authentic self that remains after shedding those outer layers. It is simple because it needs no external decoration to prove its worth. It is form-fitting because it represents the closest, warmest embrace of the self.”
Her explanation was simple but perfectly captured the essence of the work.
A female judge acutely grasped the core message. “So, you believe a modern woman’s value lies in discarding social identity?” The question was sharp, a veiled trap.
Evelyn smiled faintly, but the expression was captivating. “No, quite the opposite,” she calmly replied. “I don't advocate discarding; I advocate acknowledging.”
“Acknowledge every role we have, but never let any single role define our entirety. Just like this dress—it can be an evening gown, a wedding vow, or simply an outfit worn to please oneself. Its value is decided by the woman who wears it, not defined by the occasion. Our value is the same.”
Her composure and clear logic led to a low murmur of conversation among the judges.
Just then, the venue doors were violently shoved open, shattering the atmosphere with a loud crash. All eyes turned.
Sienna, in a sharp black suit, stood arrogantly in the doorway. Behind her were two severe-looking men with briefcases, clearly lawyers.
“Excuse me, judges,” Sienna’s voice was sharp and loud. “But I must put an end to this unfair competition!”
Sophie jumped up from the audience, glaring with fury.
Sienna ignored the stunned crowd, marching straight to the panel and slamming a document onto the table. This time, she didn't bother with the tired excuse of “plagiarism.”
“According to this agreement signed between Omni Group and Ms. Evelyn Green after her marriage,” she stated. “Ms. Evelyn, as the legal wife of CEO Damian Green, voluntarily promised not to engage in any design, consultation, or competition activities related to Omni Group’s core business during the marriage.”
She paused, then announced, emphasizing every word, “She is absolutely ineligible to be here! I demand the panel immediately disqualify her!”
“That’s bullshit!” Sophie roared, rushing toward the stage. “Where did this garbage agreement come from? Evelyn never signed anything like this! The signature is clearly fake!”
“Fake?” One of the lawyers, Eric, pushed up his glasses coolly. “Madam, watch your language. This is a legally binding document copy, in black and white, with a clear signature. If you dispute it, we can meet in court.”
“Meet your mother! You think we’re scared of you?” Sophie was shaking with rage. “Bring out the original! Bring out the video of her signing it! If you can’t, get the hell out!”