CHAPTER 80: CEO OF ELEOQUISE

It was the day of the Whispers of Silk fashion show.

The entire venue buzzed with life. Outside, flashing lights exploded like fireworks as reporters and photographers jostled for the perfect shot of every celebrity who walked down the shimmering velvet carpet.

Alisha arrived in a silky satin gown the shade of deep ocean blue. The fabric clung to her curves, flowing like liquid light as she moved. Tonight’s dress code had been sent to every guest beforehand; something that whispers silk. It was meant to embody the name of the show itself, and Alisha wasn’t about to break the rule. Respect for the designer demanded respect for the theme.

The moment she stepped out of the sleek black car, the camera shutters erupted. White lights blinded her, exploding across her vision in rapid succession, but she did not flinch. She straightened her posture, tilted her chin just slightly upward, and smiled with the poise of someone who had been born for this.

This wasn’t Sirena Couture.

Whispers of Silk was a grander show, its red carpet graced not just by models and influencers but by household names, CEOs, and the crème of the fashion world. Alisha knew better than to slip tonight.

But the questions came anyway.

"Alisha, is it true that you agreed to advertise BestKream products because you have no self-decency and were desperate for the money?" one reporter barked, his voice cutting through the din.

Another quickly added, "Fans are angry. They’ve supported you since day one. Many even protested to have Veila terminate Katherine’s contract so you could receive justice. And now they believe you’ve betrayed them."

A third thrust a microphone at her. "There’s speculation about your background. Rumors say you slept your way to the top. What do you have to say about that, Alisha De Rossi?"

Her smile didn’t waver, but inside, she could feel the sharp sting of their words. The camera shutters clicking in her ears were bad enough, but these accusations were worse.

She inhaled slowly, her chest rising as she steadied herself. Then she turned her eyes on the first reporter. Her lips curved into a gracious smile, but her gaze was glacial.

"Are you asking me these questions because I’m a woman?" she asked softly.

The reporter froze, choking slightly on his own spit. He had been expecting a denial, maybe even an angry outburst—but not this.

Alisha’s voice was calm, but it carried over the noise. "If a man was standing here right now, would you ask him if he slept his way to the top?"

Her lips stretched into a perfect camera-ready smile, but her eyes were like cold steel.

The reporter faltered. His mouth opened, then closed again. Around them, the other journalists exchanged uneasy looks.

"You should learn to respect women before you open your mouth to ask such silly questions," Alisha continued, her voice cool and cutting. And without sparing him another glance, she walked past, her heels clicking against the carpet, her blue gown trailing like a wave behind her.

The camera shutters dimmed for a moment, as though stunned by her retort.

"I love how you handled that," Maxine murmured at her side, her own lips curling into a sinister little smile. "But maybe next time, throw in a bigger punch. Something that stings."

Alisha chuckled lightly, though her eyes remained sharp.

Inside, the venue was even more alive. Everywhere she turned, she saw names and faces that ruled the fashion industry—supermodels, designers, influencers, and powerful executives who made and broke careers with a single handshake.

This was where Alisha needed to be.

So she smiled. She mingled. She charmed.

She exchanged greetings with CEOs, designers, and brand directors. Some welcomed her warmly, praising her debut in the modeling industry. A few even slipped her their numbers, eager to stay in contact. Others smiled politely but kept their words brief, careful not to let anything slip.

Across the room, Alisha caught Katherine’s gaze. Katherine stood tall, draped in silver, her lips curled into a grin that didn’t reach her eyes. Alisha rolled her eyes and turned away, returning to her conversations.

The night rolled on, smooth and elegant. Alisha collected praise, contacts, and glances of curiosity. Everything seemed to be going well—until she was led to her seat.

Her stomach tightened.

Her seat was right beside Katherine’s.

It was the first time they’d sat so close since everything had unraveled. The air between them crackled like static.

"Well, look who it is," Katherine said stiffly, her eyes fixed on the stage where the show would soon begin. Her lips stretched in a smile that was all teeth, no warmth.

Alisha, however, noticed the cameraman positioned directly in front of them. His lens was aimed at their row, at them.

Of course. After their very public dispute, the internet was hungry to see them clash. People wanted to know if hair would be pulled, if claws would come out.

Alisha turned toward the camera and gave a genuine, almost cheerful smile, even raising a hand in a small wave. The flashes responded instantly.

"Did you like my gift, Katherine?" she asked sweetly.

Katherine stiffened. The blood-soaked dress delivered to her doorstep flashed in her mind.

Her pulse quickened.

"What do you know about Eva?" she hissed, her voice low and urgent. "How do you know her?" She sounded as though she might leap out of her chair and grab Alisha by the hair if not for the dozens of eyes on them.

Alisha leaned closer, still smiling for the cameras. "I told you, Katherine. This is only the beginning." Her hand lifted to cover her lips, as if she were whispering something scandalous. "And I didn’t do anything to your little boy. Yet."

Katherine’s face drained of color.

Jacob. Her Jacob.

Her heart seized, her nails digging into her palm as her fury rose. "Don’t you dare do anything to Jacob!" she spat, her voice trembling with panic. She didn’t even ask how Alisha knew about her son. It no longer mattered—only the warning did.

Alisha pressed her index finger gently to Katherine’s lips. "Shh...the show is starting."

The lights dimmed suddenly. Darkness fell across the room before a single spotlight flared, illuminating the runway in a dazzling streak.

The designer appeared first, smiling gracefully as she thanked the guests for coming. Applause followed her words.

Then the models appeared, one by one, their steps in perfect rhythm with the soft, pulsing music. They were draped in whispering silk—gowns that shimmered like moonlight, suits that glided like water, every piece flowing, every thread alive. Each model walked to the edge of the stage, struck a powerful pose, and turned with perfect stoicism, their expressions blank, untouchable.

Phones lifted around the room, recording every moment. Alisha joined them, unable to resist.

Beside her, Katherine glared daggers at her profile, her own phone idle in her hand. Alisha didn’t so much as glance her way.

Katherine’s mind, however, was racing. What length would Alisha go to ruin her? And more importantly...what would she do to Jacob?

Her stomach twisted. She had done unforgivable things before, but if Alisha even thought of touching her child—

Katherine swallowed hard, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Meanwhile, Alisha sipped her champagne, looking serene. She wasn’t heartless. Not enough to harm a child. But Katherine didn’t need to know that.

Unbeknownst to both, another pair of eyes had been watching Alisha all evening.

From across the runway, a woman observed her with a knowing smile. Her poise was unmistakable, her aura commanding.

She was the CEO of Eleoquise.