Contours of Power

Contours of Power
A week later, the big day had arrived. The Provogue International Fashion Contest-a stage Skylar had poured her heart and soul into. But for her, this wasn't just about fashion or applause. It was a battle-a high-stakes tug of war with Evelyn.
Winning meant more than a trophy. It meant claiming 10% shares of Nelson Group, the final move in her carefully crafted revenge. And with it, the key to clearing her father's name.
Today wasn't just a contest.
It was redemption.
In the evening, under starry sky the sleek black Scott sedan pulled up at the entrance of Scott Hotel, transformed today into a hub for the annual Provogue International Design Contest-a prestigious platform where top design houses competed under one roof.
William stepped out first, dressed in a sharp black tux with metallic-stitched lapels. Without missing a beat, he moved around to open the passenger door. "Ready?" he asked.
Skylar stepped out, placing her hand in his. Her maroon power suit, sharp with an asymmetrical drape, commanded attention without needing embellishment. Her heels clicked against the pavement like punctuation.
They had barely taken a few steps when a familiar, sugar-laced voice greeted them.
"Well, well. Finally found the courage to show your face."
Evelyn's smile curved like a dagger. She stood ahead, dressed in a couture gown meant more for the red carpet than the runway crowd. Zack stood by her side, smirking in his usual smug fashion.
Her eyes lingered on Skylar's outfit. "You do love bold colors for someone stepping into a massacre. Hope that suit's fireproof."
Skylar turned around, raised an eyebrow, her smile slow and calculated. "Better red than desperate glitter gasping for relevance."
Zack chuckled darkly. "Hope you've brought tissues along. After today, La Futura will be ours. You can sign your little contract cancellation and walk away with... what? Dignity?"
William's voice was calm, deadly. "Funny. That's what failure always sounds like-loud and nervous."
Evelyn tilted her head. "Nervous? Darling, I have Lumina's name behind our line. What do you have-Skylar's recycled sketches?"
Skylar stepped forward, her heels clicking on the polished floor like punctuation marks. "What I have is original. Recognized. Protected. And trusted by every partner who's ever seen it."
Zack scoffed. "Let's see how long that lasts. You still have time to walk away gracefully."
Skylar smirked. "Oh, don't worry. I plan to walk out with 10% of your father's crumbling empire."
Evelyn's eyes narrowed. "Get ready to give up on La Futura, sweetheart. This competition will bury you."
Skylar's voice turned cool, amused. "Get ready with the share transfer certificate. I like my stakes delivered fresh."
Evelyn's smile faltered for a moment-but she quickly masked it. "You don't even have the shame to stay away after everything."
Skylar leaned in slightly, her tone almost playful. "Shame? I must've lost it while watching you play darling cousin with Zack. Walked in hand-in-hand, no?"
There was a beat-a flicker in Evelyn's eyes. Just for a second. Fear. Recognition.
Did she know something? No-not possible.
She recovered fast. "Keep your cheap assumptions to yourself."
Skylar offered a casual shrug. "Oh, I wasn't assuming anything. Just wondering what might've happened if someone... you know... actually noticed."
William held out his arm. "Shall we?"
Skylar looped her hand through, her gaze never leaving Evelyn's tight face. "Let's. It's showtime."
They turned, walking toward the grand ballroom entrance, while Evelyn stood rooted to the spot, heart thudding with something she hadn't felt in a while.
She is now entangled with chains of doubt.
In the lounge area of Scott Grand Hotel. Guests began to arrive steadily, exchanging nods and brief pleasantries. The atmosphere was formal but not overdone-just enough for everyone to feel the weight of what was at stake.
Skylar stood beside William, politely greeting a few known faces. A couple of professionals walked over.
"We've followed your work at Gracia," one said with a smile. "Sharp details, bold themes-there's something fresh in your style."
"Feels like we're watching a star being shaped," another added. "If this is where you're starting, the future's definitely watching."
Skylar offered a simple smile. "I appreciate that. I just let the designs speak."
Not far away, a group of well-dressed socialites clustered near the refreshment area, glasses of champagne in hand. They surrounded Evelyn like moths to a flame-after all, she was Nelson Design's creative head and the only heiress of the Nelson empire.
"Miss Nelson, your dress is exquisite," purred one woman in a silk gown that shimmered under the lights. "Only someone with your taste could pull off such a bold silhouette."
Another chimed in, "And your designs-just genius. We're all waiting to see them steal the show."
Evelyn smiled graciously, but her eyes kept drifting toward the other side of the room-where a small crowd had begun to gather around Skylar.
"She's glowing," someone whispered nearby. "Her work with Gracia this year was beyond impressive."
"I heard one of her preview designs for this contest already got international attention."
The smile on Evelyn's face stiffened. Her fingers tightened around her glass.
The shift wasn't lost on her loyal circle. Their flattery soured.
"Star? Please," one woman sneered. "She never even graduated."
"All her life she chased William like a stray puppy," another added with a smug tone. "Now suddenly she's a senior designer?"
"Please. It's all William's influence. Without him, no one would even look her way. She's not even in the same league as Evelyn Nelson."
Their tone was loud enough to be heard by a man nearby, quietly observing.
He looked over, voice calm but firm. "If talent's the measure, Skylar Green's got more in her thumbnail than most do in their entire sketchbook."
The women turned, startled.
He added, "And if education matters that much, you might want to know-she majored in fashion design at Paris School of Fashion Design."
There was a beat of silence.
Evelyn, standing close enough to catch every word, blinked hard. Her smile faltered for a fraction of a second.
"Paris?" she whispered to herself, trying not to react.
But her mind had already raced back-to a conversation she'd hoped to forget.
A few days ago, Andrew Nelson had summoned Evelyn and Zack to his study.
"Listen to me carefully," Andrew said, his voice low and firm. "The shares of Nelson Group are plummeting."
Evelyn frowned. "What? But-"
"Investors are pulling out. The board is panicking. And after that stunt at the Scott estate, Madam Scott is completely against us."
Zack scoffed. "This all started when William threw us out like we were nothing."
Andrew's eyes darkened. "The Provogue Fashion Contest is our last resort. Win that damn bet with Skylar Green and snatch the La Futura contract. It's the only thread still holding us together."
Evelyn stiffened. "And if we lose?"
Andrew didn't blink. "Then we lose everything including 10% shares."
Silence fell. Heavy. Cold.
Zack's fists clenched. "Then we won't lose."
Evelyn's eyes flicked between them. For the first time, doubt flickered. But she nodded slowly. "We can't."
A burst of laughter from a nearby group snapped Evelyn back to the moment. Her fingers went numb, but her mind burned with fury.
"No," she murmured, backing away from the crowd. "I'm not letting her win this."
Without another word, she turned and strode backstage.
If Skylar really has the hidden talent people are whispering about, I'm doomed. Even the slightest chance of her winning-I have to flip it in my favor. With or without Lumina, only I can win this contest. I need to see her designs... before anyone else does.
Evelyn thought with hatred and strode away from the hall.
She pushed through the backstage curtain, ignoring the polite nods of staff and junior designers scurrying past with fabric samples and mood boards. Her heels clicked with restless urgency. She scanned the setup-Gracia's section neatly cordoned off at the far end.
Everything looked maddeningly... calm.
A junior assistant walked by holding a black case embossed with "G - Atelier."
Evelyn stopped her. "Whose kit is that?"
The girl blinked. "Skylar Ma'am's. She said she wanted to prep the reveal herself."
Evelyn's eyes narrowed. "Open it."
The girl hesitated. "I-I'm not sure I can-"
"Now," Evelyn snapped, her voice dropping just enough to sting.
The assistant, flustered, set the kit down and slowly unlatched the case. Evelyn leaned in. She saw just a sliver-a deep emerald silk with hand-stitched silverwork. Structured lines. Daring shapes.
Familiar.
Evelyn's breath caught.
It wasn't a copy of Lumina.
It was Lumina.
Or at least, it was too similar to be a coincidence.
"Impossible," she muttered. Her fingers clenched the edge of the table. "She doesn't have access. No one does. Unless-"
Her mind flashed to the smug way Skylar had looked at her earlier. That cryptic comment about cousins. That confident smirk. The perfect silence where there should've been panic.
"She knows," Evelyn whispered, panic swelling in her chest. "She knows something."
Her phone buzzed in her purse. It was Zack.
Zack: "Where are you? Judges are almost seated."
Judges are on their seats, Skylar's outstanding design in her hand. Her mind gone black.
No. No. No.
Evelyn slammed the case shut, forcing her breathing to steady.
"She won't win," she told herself. "Not now. Not here."