Stella's POV
I followed the assistant to where the design director stood, phone pressed to his ear, his free hand gesticulating wildly.
"What do you mean 'design aesthetic mismatch'?" he shouted, his Italian accent thickening with anger. "We approved these designs months ago! The entire collection was built around these pieces!"
After hanging up, his expression could kill. "That bitch is impossible! This is clearly deliberate sabotage!"
"What exactly did she say?" I asked, keeping my voice calm despite the rage building inside me.
"Something about a 'creative direction shift' and her jewelry no longer being suitable," he spat, running his hand through his already messy hair. "But this is Light's fourth time working with her! Our aesthetic hasn't changed at all!"
*True, but something else has changed—me.*
I immediately realized this was about me, not some bullshit aesthetic mismatch. Grace was using her professional leverage to target me personally, hoping this disaster would destroy my professional reputation.
"I'll call her myself," I said, already taking out my phone. "I'll talk to her directly."
I walked away, dialed Grace's number, and gripped the phone tightly while waiting.
"Ms. Davis's office," a polite voice answered.
"This is Stella Winston," I kept my tone professionally cool. "I need to speak with Grace immediately regarding the Light collaboration."
After a brief pause, Grace came on the line. "Ms. Winston, what a surprise. I thought the Light team would call again."
"Cut the bullshit, Grace," I said. "This is your fourth collaboration with Light. The designs were approved months ago. What 'aesthetic mismatch' suddenly appeared in the last 24 hours?"
She paused slightly, her voice deliberately pleasant. "The previous collaborations worked well, true. But this one is different."
"Different because I'm involved?" I asked bluntly.
"I wouldn't presume to comment on styling choices made by Light's team," she cleverly avoided my question.
Fucking coward.
My voice dropped to a dangerous softness. "I'm deeply honored by my value if you're willing to alienate a luxury powerhouse just to target me!"
"I'm just making business decisions based on creative integrity. I don't understand what you're implying," Grace responded smoothly. "Besides, you seem quite concerned about how this reflects on you. Worried about disappointing your husband?"
"My relationship with my husband is none of your fucking business," I replied coldly. "And if you think sabotaging a major fashion show will somehow make Adam see you differently, you clearly don't know him at all."
I hung up, my mind racing through potential solutions. The show was six hours away, and we had no accessories for the finale looks specifically designed to showcase statement jewelry.
Think, Stella.
As I walked back, I saw the design director frantically calling other designers, desperately seeking last-minute replacements. His assistant was nearly in tears, and the models were beginning to look concerned as word spread.
"Any progress with Grace?" the director asked hopefully.
I shook my head. "She won't change her mind. But I might have another solution."
"What solution? The show starts in six hours!" he was practically shouting. "We need museum-quality pieces to match this collection!"
"I have access to some pieces that might work," I said, quickly calculating logistics. "They're in a private collection in New York."
He stared at me skeptically. "Even if these mysterious pieces exist and are suitable, how would we get them here in time? What about copyright issues?"
"They're private pieces," I explained. "No copyright problems. As for delivery..." I pulled out my phone again. "I can arrange transportation."
The design director watched in disbelief as I made a series of calls, speaking in hushed tones. When I finally looked up, his expression had shifted from skepticism to curiosity.
"A helicopter will deliver the pieces in approximately two hours," I announced. "We'll have plenty of time for styling adjustments."
"A helicopter?" His jaw dropped. "Just for jewelry transport?"
I nodded, trying to appear more confident than I felt. Honestly, I wasn't entirely sure this would work, but it was our only chance.
Exactly two hours and seventeen minutes later, the distinctive sound of helicopter blades approached the venue. A security team escorted several wooden crates into the backstage area, where the entire design team had gathered in anticipation.
When the crates were opened, gasps filled the room. Inside were exquisite jewelry pieces—necklaces, bracelets, and elaborate hairpieces that belonged more in a royal treasury than a fashion show.
"My God," the director whispered, lifting a stunning diamond and emerald necklace with trembling hands. "These are museum-quality pieces. Where did they come from?"
\---
Grace's POV
I had just returned from my studio when William Lancaster's butler called, requesting my immediate presence at the Lancaster estate. As I was escorted to William's study, my heart raced, hoping this had something to do with Adam.
William sat behind his massive desk, his silver hair impeccably styled, sharp eyes assessing me. "Grace," he gestured for me to sit. "Thank you for coming so quickly."
"Of course, Mr. Lancaster," I replied, taking a seat. "Is everything alright?"
He studied me silently for a moment before speaking. "Grace, I'll be direct. Do you want to be Adam's wife?"
The question was so unexpected, so blunt, that I could only stare at him, unable to respond. My heart pounded in my chest, excitement rushing through my entire body.
"I—I'm not sure I understand your meaning," I finally managed, though I understood perfectly well.
William's lips curved into a knowing smile. "I think you do. I've known about your feelings for my son for years. What I'm asking is whether you're prepared to act on them."
I straightened my posture, forcing myself to appear composed despite the emotional turmoil inside. "Adam is married, Mr. Lancaster. I respect that."
"Oh, please, Grace." William dismissed this with a wave of his hand. "That marriage is merely a temporary arrangement, nothing more. Adam will eventually tire of her—he always does. The question is, will you be ready when that happens?"
I remained silent, processing his words. Was he offering his support? The implications were staggering.
"You've always been like a daughter to me," William continued, his voice softening slightly. "You come from a good family, you understand our world. You would make a suitable wife for Adam—certainly more suitable than that Winston girl."
Getting this validation of my thoughts from Adam's own father sent a wave of satisfaction through me. He sees it too. I belong with Adam.
"Thank you, Mr. Lancaster," I answered carefully. "I care deeply for Adam, but I wouldn't want to interfere with his marriage."
William's smile turned shrewd. "Your loyalty is admirable, Grace. But make no mistake—there will come a time when Adam must make a choice. I simply want to ensure he makes the right one."
As I left the Lancaster estate, my mind was filled with possibilities. Adam's brother had asked Adam to look after me on his deathbed, ensuring I would always have a place in Adam's life.
With Adam's father's support, plus the weight of that promise on Adam's conscience, I finally had a real chance. All I needed to do was be patient, maintain my presence, and wait for Stella to make the inevitable mistake that would push Adam away.
I don't believe Adam has had no feelings for me all these years. He must have restrained himself because of his brother's presence.
Now I just need a legitimate position!