CHAPTER 279: CHAPTER 279 RUNWAY REDEMPTION

Serena’s POV

I arrived at the Fashion Week venue early the next morning, the buzz of anticipation already thick in the air.

Ivy was already there, immersed in final preparations with the models. I watched her from the corner of the hallway, impressed by her meticulous attention to detail as she adjusted accessories and gave last-minute instructions.

I chose not to interrupt her flow, instead hanging back to confer with my assistant about the day’s schedule. As we were discussing the post-show interviews, Matthews appeared, striding purposefully down the corridor before pushing open the door to the models’ dressing room.

"Ivy," his voice carried into the hallway, commanding and sharp. "How are the preparations coming along?"

I edged closer, curious about their interaction.

"Everything’s on schedule," Ivy replied, her voice brimming with confidence. "We’re ready to make a statement today."

"Good. There are several additional models waiting in the adjacent room," Matthews announced. "You’ll need to reallocate the gowns and reorganize the lineup."

I watched Ivy’s expression shift from confidence to confusion. "I’m sorry, Matthews, but there must be some misunderstanding. All our confirmed models are already here and nearly ready. The adjacent room isn’t allocated to us."

"How could there be a misunderstanding?" Matthews’ tone hardened. "These models were specially requested by Kruse. They have significant industry presence and following."

"You should arrange them immediately."

The tension in Ivy’s shoulders was visible even from where I stood. She glanced at her watch with a slight frown.

"Matthews, we’re less than an hour from curtain. The current models have already been fitted, styled, and briefed on the choreography. Changing now would—"

"Ivy," he cut her off, his voice dropping to that dangerous quiet that executives use when they’re not making a suggestion. "Fashion Week is as much about who wears the clothes as the clothes themselves. Rather than arguing with me, I suggest you handle this immediately."

Ivy fell silent, her face a mask of controlled frustration.

Without another word, she headed toward the adjacent room. I stayed hidden, curious to see how she would navigate this obvious sabotage.

When Ivy opened the door to the adjacent room, I could hear the voices of irritated models waiting inside.

"It’s about time someone showed up," one woman snapped. "We’ve been waiting forever. Where are our outfits? Where are the makeup artists?"

"Kruse brought us here hours ago, and we’ve just been sitting around," another added. "Is this how you run a professional show?"

Ivy took a deep breath, centering herself before speaking. "Ladies, I apologize for the confusion. There appears to have been a scheduling error with Kruse’s management."

She straightened her posture, her voice becoming firm. "However, our lineup has been finalized, rehearsed, and is ready to walk. I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to return to your agencies. Of course, you’ll be compensated fully for your time today."

The models erupted in protests.

"Are you kidding me? Do you have any idea who I am?"

"I didn’t clear my schedule for a Fashion Week show just to get paid to sit in a room!"

"My agent will hear about this. You can’t just dismiss us minutes before a show!"

Ivy remained poised despite the onslaught. Matthews had deliberately created this situation to undermine her debut.

"Enough!" Ivy’s voice cut through the chaos, authoritative and clear. "This is London Fashion Week, not a neighborhood runway. If you choose to create a scene, that’s your prerogative."

Her gaze swept over the disgruntled models. "But understand that the organizing committee keeps meticulous notes on who creates problems. Once you’re blacklisted, good luck getting invited back to any major fashion event in Europe."

The room fell into stunned silence. Ivy reached into her bag and pulled out a stack of cash—emergency funds she’d obviously prepared for unforeseen circumstances.

"Take this as compensation for your time," she said evenly. "Walk away now, and this incident never happened. Create problems..." She shrugged. "Well, I’ve nothing to lose. I don’t intend to remain at Kruse after today anyway."

Smart girl, I thought as the models reluctantly accepted the money and filed out.

"Mrs. Quinn," my assistant whispered, drawing my attention back. "The show is about to begin."

I nodded, a smile playing at my lips. "Yes, and I believe the real performance is just getting started."

The Kruse and Dreamland Studio collaboration had been deliberately scheduled as the finale—the coveted closing spot that fashion insiders recognize as a mark of prestige. I took my front-row seat, observing the other collections with professional interest.

When our turn finally arrived, the venue darkened dramatically. The host offered a brief introduction about the unprecedented collaboration between an established European design house and an emerging American studio. As the first beats of our carefully selected soundtrack filled the space, spotlights pierced the darkness to illuminate the runway.

The first model emerged wearing one of Ivy’s silk evening gowns, ethereal and flowing, paired perfectly with Dreamland’s celestial-inspired jewelry. The audience’s reaction was immediate—hushed whispers of appreciation followed by enthusiastic applause as each new design appeared.

"Quite an interesting pairing," the fashion editor next to me murmured. "Kruse and Dreamland—who would have thought?"

"The cohesion between the garments and accessories is remarkable," another critic commented. "They’ve achieved that rare balance where neither overshadows the other."

"That young designer—Ivy Percy—she’s the one behind these gowns? Absolutely brilliant construction."

I smiled, satisfaction warming my chest as I watched our vision come to life on the runway. Each model moved with confidence, showcasing how seamlessly our two aesthetics had merged into something greater than either could have achieved alone.

Across the runway, I spotted Matthews, his expression growing increasingly sour as the show progressed without a hitch. He’d clearly expected chaos—hoped for it, even—but instead was witnessing a triumph.

When the final model completed her walk, Ivy stepped onto the runway to thunderous applause. The lighting shifted to illuminate her as she addressed the audience.

"I want to thank everyone for being here today," she began, her voice steady despite what I knew must be overwhelming nerves. "These designs wouldn’t have been possible without the guidance and collaboration of Mrs. Serena Quinn."

She gestured toward me with genuine warmth. "Mrs. Quinn is also known in design circles as Lazuli, a brilliant jewelry designer in her own right. This collaboration was her vision, and I’m incredibly honored she chose to work with me."

The spotlight suddenly swung to illuminate me in my seat, catching me by surprise. The audience erupted in applause.

"Mrs. Quinn," Ivy called out, extending her hand toward me. "Would you join me on stage to share more about our inspiration for this collection?"

This hadn’t been part of our plan, but I recognized a golden opportunity when I saw one. Rising gracefully, I made my way to the stage, conscious of every camera tracking my movement.

"Good afternoon," I began, my voice carrying confidently through the venue. "I’m Serena Quinn, founder of Dreamland Studio, and yes—also the designer behind the Lazuli collections."

I turned slightly to include Ivy in my gaze. "This collaboration came about because I’ve long admired Ivy Percy’s distinctive aesthetic. As Dreamland establishes its presence in London, finding a kindred creative spirit has been invaluable."

I directed my attention back to the audience. "I’m grateful to the Fashion Week committee for giving our studio this opportunity to introduce ourselves to the European market in such a meaningful way."

The response was even more enthusiastic than I’d anticipated—fashion journalists were already tapping away on their tablets, no doubt rushing to publish the first articles about our show.

Ivy and I exchanged knowing smiles, both aware of how perfectly our gamble had paid off. Not only had we created a stunning collection, but we’d also established Dreamland’s legitimacy in one of the world’s most competitive fashion markets.