Chapter 354 Life Opportunities

Serena’s POV

My eyes scanned the revised Fashion Week proposal Sally had just dropped on my desk. A quiet triumph settled in my chest. Finalizing the meeting with Mr. Alvin had been a game-changer – co-hosting, not just participating. This was Elegant Realm’s moment, our chance to finally roar.

Just as I was scribbling final notes, my phone buzzed. Sally’s name flashed across the screen.

“Hey, what’s up?” I answered, tucking the phone between my ear and shoulder, my pen still dancing across the page. Multitasking was practically my middle name these days.

“Serena, I just got some… interesting news.” Her voice held a strange tension, something that made my pen freeze mid-stroke.

“What kind of news?” A tiny knot of unease began to form in my stomach.

“You know how Mr. Alvin mentioned multiple sponsors for the event?” Sally paused, a heavy beat of hesitation. “Well, I just found out who one of the major sponsors is.”

My stomach clenched. “Don’t tell me—”

“Blackwood Industries,” she confirmed, her voice barely a whisper, as if speaking the name too loudly would conjure him. “Ryan Blackwood will be personally involved in the planning meetings.”

My pen clattered to the desk, leaving an ugly, black streak across my meticulously annotated page. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

But Sally wasn’t in the mood for jokes, and neither was I. I let out a long, slow sigh. “Get me a meeting with Mr. Alvin. This afternoon. As soon as humanly possible.”

—

Mr. Alvin had just finished his casual rundown of Ryan’s “unexpected involvement,” and my brain was still reeling, trying to process the sheer audacity of it all.

Mr. Alvin stirred his espresso, oblivious or uncaring of the earthquake he’d just caused. “Frankly, Mrs. Lancaster, this is fantastic news for us. Blackwood’s investment means we can be far more ambitious with our plans.”

I plastered on a smile that felt brittle. “Yes, of course. That’s… truly wonderful.” Wonderful for him, maybe. A nightmare for me.

“Oh, and he confirmed his attendance at the pre-Fashion Week gala,” Mr. Alvin added, his eyes too sharp, watching my reaction a little too closely. “When I mentioned you’d be there, he seemed quite interested.”

Fantastic. Just utterly, spectacularly fantastic. The gala. My gala. It was supposed to be my moment to shine as co-organizer, to showcase Elegant Realm, to prove I’d not only rebuilt but soared. Now, it would inevitably turn into another Ryan Blackwood spectacle. I could already picture the damning gossip columns, focusing on his brooding presence, on us, rather than my hard-won achievement.

“Well, I certainly appreciate the additional support for the event,” I said diplomatically, though my knuckles were white, clutching the mug like a lifeline.

Back in the office, a strange haze still clung to me. The team buzzed with focused energy, everyone deeply immersed in their tasks. I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to knead away the relentless tension that had taken root there.

Sally approached, a stack of sketches in hand. “Serena, should we assign this batch to Vivi? We’re stretched thin with all these orders, and the deadline for the preliminary designs is looming.”

I sighed, having anticipated this very staffing bottleneck. “Yes, let’s do that. But make sure she understands the gravity of it—Fashion Week is our big debut. No mistakes. Zero. Once the sketches are finalized, they come straight to you, no detours.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll handle it,” Sally assured me.

Author’s POV

Sally called Vivi into the makeshift meeting area.

Vivi was a gem, one of our veteran employees who’d followed Serena from abroad. Her work was impeccable, her eye for detail unmatched, and her diplomatic skills made her invaluable in managing the more… colorful personalities on the team.

“The deadline for these sketches is the end of next week,” Sally instructed, her tone firm. “After your review, they come to me. Who do you want on your team? Names by noon.”

“The new hires have been doing excellent work,” Vivi suggested, her expression thoughtful. “I’d like to use them.”

Sally’s brow furrowed. “New hires? Wouldn’t it be safer to stick with our veterans? We know what they can do.”

“Sally,” Vivi countered, her gaze steady, “after that sabotage incident, anyone who stayed with us has proven their loyalty. Plus, the locals understand the domestic market’s aesthetic better than our international team ever could.”

Sally considered this, then nodded reluctantly. “Fine, but keep them on a tight leash. We can’t afford any mishaps, not with so much riding on this.”

“One more thing,” Sally added, her voice ringing with conviction. “Even if this is a domestic fashion week, Elegant Realm must maintain its signature style. We don’t sacrifice our identity just to please the local market. Our uniqueness is our strength.”

Vivi promised excellence, a glint of determination in her eyes. Soon, her team was assembled, and the workshop buzzed with renewed, purposeful energy as everyone attacked their assignments.

Across town, in the sterile, overly chic confines of ARt Design Company, Sophie was positively seething. She’d been ranting to her trembling assistant for what felt like an hour. “That idiotic Mr. Alvin is completely blind! What credentials does Elegant Realm have to be a co-organizer? Everyone will mock them!”

Her tirade screeched to a halt when her assistant, pale and hesitant, delivered the news: Ryan Blackwood’s investment in Fashion Week. The gossip had already ripped through London’s fashion circles like wildfire. Sophie reportedly slammed her fist on the desk, her face contorting, a grotesque mask of fury.

“What? Ryan actually—” She cut herself off, her expression shifting, a storm of emotions warring behind her eyes as the pieces clicked into place. “Have they met already?” she muttered to herself, a venomous whisper.

Ryan never cared about Fashion Week, not in the slightest, let alone investing in it. In her twisted mind, there could be only one explanation: he must have seen her. Yet, a baffling question persisted: why was there no news, no whispers, no scandal about their reunion? Were they keeping it quiet? Or, a more horrifying thought, had he not recognized her?

Later, when her assistant timidly mentioned that ARt had also received an invitation to Fashion Week, Sophie waved it away with affected indifference. “It’s just an invitation. Nothing to celebrate.”

An invitation was expected. ARt was established, a titan. Elegant Realm being named co-organizer, though? That was the real coup, the distinction that burned Sophie to her very core, a searing brand of jealousy.

“Mrs. Anderson, our team is preparing the sketches for Fashion Week. Should we hold a meeting to discuss them?” her assistant ventured, ever practical.

Sophie dismissed her with a flick of her wrist. “Let them handle it as usual. They know what to do.”

But as her assistant turned to leave, Sophie’s voice, sharp as a stiletto, cut through the air. “Wait—find a way to contact someone inside Elegant Realm. I want to know exactly what they’re planning for Fashion Week.”