CHAPTER 81: ENRAGED CROWD

The next three hours were filled with nothing but awe-inspiring beauty as the models glided gracefully across the stage.

Each step they took was in perfect harmony with the music that swelled and softened in rhythm with their movements.

The audience barely blinked, afraid they might miss even a fraction of the elegance unfolding before them. The atmosphere was a heady mix of perfume, expensive champagne, hushed whispers, and camera flashes. It was artistry in its rawest form, and for three hours, the room existed in another world.

Alisha’s eyes followed every movement with unrelenting attention.

But while Alisha admired, Katherine’s gaze never strayed from her. From the corner of her eye, Alisha could feel the daggered stares slicing toward her, but she refused to acknowledge them. She knew Katherine was glaring, but she was too engrossed in the stage to let pettiness steal her joy.

Finally, the music swelled to its final crescendo, and the models lined up one last time. Then, the designer—draped in her own creation of velvet and lace—stepped out. The applause erupted instantly, rising like a wave crashing against the walls. Cheers, whistles, and claps all merged into a storm of admiration.

Alisha clapped too, smiling warmly. Though she had spent the entire day seated, her phone occasionally in her hand as she recorded snippets of the magic, a strange weariness clung to her body. It wasn’t physical exhaustion but the kind of drain that came with being in a room filled with so much energy.

She rose slowly, stretching her legs, preparing herself for more mingling. Katherine’s piercing gaze followed her every move like a hawk tracking prey, but Alisha ignored her entirely. The night was too important, and Katherine’s obsession was a distraction she had no patience for.

Alisha drifted through the crowd, her practiced grace making it easy to hold conversations with strangers who were eager to speak to her. She was in the middle of an engaging discussion with an investor when a gentle tap on her shoulder interrupted her flow.

She excused herself politely and turned.

Her heart almost stopped.

Naomi.

Naomi herself—the CEO of Eleoquise—stood before her, smiling with a poise only a woman of her stature could carry.

Alisha froze, blinking twice as if to ensure she wasn’t hallucinating. She had seen Naomi earlier in the hall but had been far too intimidated to approach. And now, here she was, standing inches away.

"Alisha De Rossi, I’m Naomi," the woman said with practiced elegance, extending her hand for a polite shake.

Alisha quickly accepted, her grip firm despite the shock buzzing through her veins.

Naomi’s smile deepened, revealing flawless white teeth. "I apologize for not going through your manager first, but I couldn’t let this opportunity pass—especially since I’ve finally seen you in person."

Alisha’s lips parted slightly, stunned.

"I’ve seen some of your work," Naomi continued, her tone effortlessly charismatic. "And I’d like it if you modeled for Eleoquise one day."

Alisha’s heart gave a violent jolt in her chest. Naomi wasn’t just anyone. She was the Naomi—one of the women who had inspired Alisha to pursue modeling seriously when she was just a little girl watching fashion shows on television.

To even be in the same room as her was surreal. To be approached by her felt like a dream.

Naomi, in her early forties, wore her age with a vibrance that made her seem timeless. She had charm and energy that women half her age could only dream of. For Alisha, it was impossible not to stare at the living embodiment of her childhood role model.

Naomi tilted her head slightly, studying her expression. "I hope I haven’t made things awkward for you by speaking directly instead of to your manager?"

Alisha quickly shook her head, managing to summon professionalism through her shock. "Not at all. I... actually appreciate it. I’m honored you’d consider me. But unfortunately, my contract with Veila is nowhere near ending—"

"You can terminate the contract," Naomi interrupted smoothly, her tone laced with certainty. "We don’t mind covering the fees."

Alisha nearly gasped. No model in their right mind would reject such an offer. But beneath the euphoria, her sharp instincts whispered.

If Eleoquise was willing to buy her out so boldly, then they needed her. But did she want to sell herself that easily? Did she want her worth reduced to a transaction?

"I’d like to discuss it with my manager first," Alisha finally said, her voice careful.

"Of course," Naomi agreed with a gracious nod. "I’ll have my team contact yours. Once you’ve decided, we’ll move quickly to handle Veila and the formalities."

They exchanged kisses on both cheeks—a mark of elegance and respect—before Naomi drifted back into the crowd.

Alisha stood still, smiling as though nothing had changed, but her heart was bursting inside her chest. Naomi herself. Her role model. She wanted to scream, but she kept her composure, the mask of professionalism never slipping.

A few steps away, Katherine had overheard everything. Though her back was turned to them, her ears caught every word. Her face twisted into a scowl, bitterness searing her chest. After everything Alisha had done to her, she thought she could just waltz into a better deal, into the arms of a stronger agency? Rage simmered inside Katherine, and with a sharp exhale, she pulled out her phone.

"Bring them in," she muttered coldly into the receiver.

Five minutes later, chaos erupted.

A swarm of furious people burst through the security barriers, their voices raised in angry chants. They shouted Alisha’s name, demanding to see her, their fury drawing all eyes in the hall.

Alisha’s brows furrowed in confusion. She quickly handed her purse to Maxine when she spotted her, and together they moved towards the entrance.

There, at least ten people pushed against security, their faces twisted with rage.

"There she is! The witch!" one woman screamed, her face marred with scars.

"Look at her, acting all innocent," another sneered.

Alisha’s frown deepened.

"You advertised BestKream!" a man shouted, his voice raw with fury. "You knew it was trash! You got your money, and what about us? We used it—now look at our bodies!"

"You ruined our skin!" another woman cried, her voice breaking. "You’ll pay for this, Alisha De Rossi!"

Maxine stepped forward, her voice sharp and protective. "In case you don’t know, Alisha doesn’t pick her projects. Veila assigns them. This isn’t her fault!"

But the crowd didn’t care. Their anger was too consuming.

"She could’ve rejected it!" one spat. "But no—she took the money, and now we’re ruined!"

Before Alisha could respond, a flash of silver caught her eye.

Pain shot through her hand.

She gasped, clutching her bleeding hand to her chest as a knife nicked her skin. The assailant lunged again, aiming for her face.

"Go to hell!" the attacker shrieked.

But security surged forward, blocking the blow before it could land.

Alisha’s world tilted, fear crashing into her chest. Then—strong arms wrapped around her, dragging her back to safety.

She blinked through the chaos, her vision clearing just enough to recognize him.

Dante.

His jaw was clenched, his eyes burning with fury as he pulled her away. Blood soaked through her fingers, and his expression darkened.

"You’re bleeding," he hissed under his breath, rage simmering.

Alisha’s breath caught. She hadn’t even known he’d be here tonight. He hadn’t mentioned attending the show at all. Yet, here he was.

Memories of the theater flashed in her mind, leaving her unsteady.

"Come with me," Dante ordered, his voice sharp as steel, dragging her away while more guards rushed to disperse the furious crowd.