Alina's POV

The morning after the showcase, the world woke up to a name it had never spoken in months, my name “Alina Elston”.

My show trended globally within hours. #PhantomDesigner, #RebirthOnTheRunway, and most prominently, #ElstonReturns, flooded social media. Major publications scrambled to secure interviews. But I declined them all.

I wasn’t ready to speak my truth, and I was still too busy weaponizing it.

Ronan’s network had done its job. The financial reports he handed me last night? Just the beginning. Quiet sell-offs of Vexler Holdings’ secondary assets had begun.

A whistleblower's file was prepared, listing questionable transactions tied to Damon’s father.

And still, Damon had no idea who was behind the storm slowly building under him.

Not yet, I let out a smirk.

Celeste called me to her office two days later, perched in her skyline-facing chair like a queen surveying a conquered kingdom.

“You shook the city,” Celeste said, sipping from a glass of French wine. “Now you need to strike again. Before they thought it was luck.”

I nodded. “What do you have in mind?”

“A front-page spread in Allure Noir. Full control of the shoot. I made the call. They want you, not just the brand.”

I hesitated. “They’ll want me to talk about Damon. About the scandal.”

Celeste raised a brow. “Then lie. Or spin. Or do what your enemies do, feed them only what poisons them later.”

I smiled slowly. “I can do that.”

The photo shoot was set in an abandoned greenhouse outside the city. Symbolic, Ronan had said. New life. Ruins reclaimed.

Instead under shattered glass, vines crawling up rusted iron arches, my silhouette was draped in crimson silk like a phoenix birthed from rust and roses. I heard the photographer whisper to his assistant, “She’s going to be the face of vengeance.”

By the end of the day, I had an entire editorial in the bag and an idea that made blood sing.

“Ronan,” I said as we drove back into the city. “What if we took it a step further?”

He glanced over. “How far?” he asked, not sure what I meant.

“I want to start my own label. Not just a collection. Something... permanent.”

“Backed quietly by Vale Capital?” he asked.

I nodded. “Hidden, for now. But later, once I’ve taken enough from Damon, I'll put my name on every building he ever wanted to walk into.”

Ronan chuckled. “I’ll have the paperwork drawn up.”