CHAPTER 271: CHAPTER 271 FLYING TO LONDON

Serena’ s POV

I collapsed onto the hotel bed after another exhausting day, immediately grabbing my phone to check for messages. A smile spread across my face when I saw Ryan’s request for a video call. Despite the time difference between London and the States, we’d been trying to connect whenever possible.

"Hey there," I said softly as his face appeared on my screen. Even through the pixelated video, his eyes made my heart skip.

"You look tired," Ryan noticed immediately, his brows furrowing with concern. "Working late again?"

I nodded, shifting to get more comfortable. "Fashion Week preparations are killing me. How’s everything back home?"

"Missing you," he answered simply, making me blush.

"I miss you both so much," I admitted, feeling a familiar ache in my chest.

Ryan’s expression shifted slightly. "I heard Cedric Lancaster is back in London."

I tensed momentarily, wondering how he knew. "Yes, we ran into each other yesterday. He brought dinner for my team."

"Just dinner?" Ryan asked, his tone casual but I could detect the undertone of jealousy.

"Ryan Blackwood, are you actually jealous?" I teased, but then softened. "He’s an old friend who’s being helpful while I’m in his city. Nothing more."

Ryan ran a hand through his hair. "I trust you, Serena. I just don’t trust him."

His words warmed me unexpectedly. The old Ryan would have issued commands or arranged surveillance. This trust was new between us.

"Thank you for that," I said sincerely. "It means a lot that you’re trusting me to handle this."

"So how’s the Fashion Week preparation going?" he changed subjects, clearly making an effort.

My face fell. "Not great, actually. They’ve closed the participant list and I was too late. I’m going to try approaching the committee head directly."

"I could make a call," Ryan offered immediately. "Blackwood has connections with—"

"No," I cut him off firmly. "I need to do this myself, Ryan. This is my studio, my career. I can’t always rely on the Blackwood name to open doors."

He looked surprised but nodded. "What about your parents? LUXE has influence in European fashion circles."

I shook my head again. "Same reason. I left that life behind, remember? I want to succeed as Serena Quinn, not as anyone’s daughter or wife."

Ryan’s expression softened with understanding and something like pride. "You’re remarkable, you know that? Most people would use every advantage available."

"I’m stubborn," I corrected with a small smile.

"Determined," he countered. "And I believe in you."

Our conversation shifted to lighter topics. Ryan promised he’d try to arrange a quick trip to London if my show made it into Fashion Week. By the time Ryan appeared on screen holding Vivian in her soft pink onesie, I felt rejuvenated despite my exhaustion.

"Say hi to mommy, sweetheart," Ryan cooed gently, angling six-month-old Vivian toward the camera.

My daughter’s bright eyes widened at the screen, her tiny fist waving in the air as she made soft babbling sounds. When she heard my voice saying "Hi, baby girl," her face broke into the most beautiful gummy smile that made my heart ache with longing.

"She’s been reaching for your photo all day," Ryan said softly, bouncing her gently as she started to fuss. "I think she misses you."

Vivian suddenly let out a little squeal of delight, as if she recognized something about my voice, then promptly tried to grab at the phone screen with her chubby fingers.

"Mommy loves you so much, little one," I whispered, wishing I could reach through the screen and hold her tiny warm body against me.

She gurgled happily in response before Ryan had to pull her away from the camera as she began to get sleepy and cranky.

After we ended the call, I fell asleep with a smile on my face, determined to overcome tomorrow’s challenges.

---

The next morning, I wasted no time contacting Orion Nelson, head of the Fashion Week organizing committee. My heart pounded as I waited for him to pick up.

"Mr. Nelson? This is Serena Quinn from Dreamland Studio. I was hoping we could meet to discuss the upcoming Fashion Week."

"Mrs. Quinn, a meeting won’t be necessary," he replied, his British accent crisp and formal.

My heart sank until he continued, "I’ve already added Dreamland Studio to the participants list."

I froze, certain I’d misheard. "I’m sorry, what did you say?"

Orion chuckled lightly. "I said your studio has already been added to the list, Mrs. Quinn. I wasn’t aware you were a friend of Cedric Lancaster’s, otherwise this... misunderstanding wouldn’t have happened."

The pieces clicked into place immediately. Cedric had intervened despite my refusal.

"I hope you don’t mind," Orion continued, oblivious to my mixed emotions. "The committee is quite looking forward to seeing what Dreamland Studio brings to London."

I recovered quickly, forcing professionalism into my voice. "Thank you, Mr. Nelson. We won’t disappoint you."

After ending the call, I immediately dialed Cedric’s number.

"Cedric," I said the moment he answered, "about the Fashion Week spot—thank you for helping, even though I told you not to."

"Congratulations, Serena," he replied smoothly, avoiding taking direct credit. "If you really want to thank me, perhaps you could join me for dinner sometime."

I couldn’t help smiling at his familiar persistence. "Fine. When are you free?"

"For dinner with you? Any time. I know you’re busy setting up your London branch."

His consideration touched me, though I felt conflicted about accepting his help after specifically refusing it.

"I can always make time to thank someone who’s helped me," I replied. "How about this weekend?"

"Perfect," he agreed.

After hanging up, I stared thoughtfully at my phone. I had mixed feelings about Cedric’s intervention, but I couldn’t deny I was relieved to have secured the spot. Now I had mere days to prepare something spectacular for London Fashion Week.

I immediately called my team together. We had a mountain of work ahead and no time to waste.