Chapter 113

No.1

The moment the stylist exited, Genevieve Laurent stepped forward aggressively. Her heels clicked sharply against the floor.

She swept her arm across Isabella Montgomery’s vanity. A violent crash echoed through the room.

Cosmetics, brushes, and accessories scattered everywhere. The custom outfit laid out for the show tumbled into the dust.

Seraphina Delacroix watched coldly from the doorway. Her presence alone was a statement. A queen descending to handle a nuisance personally.

“I don’t care who you know here,” Genevieve spat. “You’re a nobody. A rookie. We are not your backup dancers. Know your place. Pack your things. Leave. Now.”

A chorus of agreement rose from the other models. Their glares were sharp, unified. A wall of hostility.

Isabella didn’t flinch. She leaned back in her chair, utterly calm. “You think breaking a few things is supposed to frighten me?”

Silence. Then, disbelief. How was she so composed? Outnumbered and cornered.

Genevieve’s face flushed a deep, furious red. With a guttural sound of rage, she grabbed the edge of the vanity and shoved. The entire unit toppled over. Glass shattered. The noise was deafening.

No.2

It wasn’t enough. Genevieve stalked toward the clothing rack. She snatched a delicate beaded bracelet from its hanger.

She threw it to the floor. Her stiletto heel came down on it with brutal force. A sickening crunch echoed in the sudden quiet.

“This is what will happen to you,” she hissed at Isabella, her voice low and venomous. “If you don’t get out. I’ll break you myself.”

Isabella actually laughed. A dry, humorless sound. “That’s all the strength you have? Pathetic. If you’re hungry, there’s food. Eat. Then try again. Put some real effort into it.”

She began removing her own accessories. A sleek black watch. A matching obsidian ring. She dropped them casually onto the floor at Genevieve’s feet. The gesture was wildly defiant.

The models stared, baffled. Was she insane? Was she daring them?

From her spot near the changing area, Victoria Kensington watched, a frown etching her features. This was not going as planned. Isabella’s fearlessness was unnerving.

Another model snapped. “You’re asking for it, Montgomery!” She lunged forward, her heel aiming for the expensive watch.

Crack. The crystal face splintered. A six-figure piece, destroyed.

No.3

Isabella didn’t even look. She examined her black-painted nails, bored. “Don’t stop on my account. Keep going. Destroy it all. I insist.”

She finally lifted her gaze, icy and direct. “After all, none of this is mine. Every single item belongs to the event organizers.”

The air left the room.

All color drained from their faces. Stunned silence. They had been so focused on humiliating her, they never considered the labels on the clothes, the tags on the jewelry. These were show pieces. Loaned property.

“You witch!” Genevieve gasped, scrambling back from the wreckage as if it were radioactive. “You set us up!”

“Did I?” Isabella’s voice was a blade of frozen steel. “I forced you to trash my station? I made you stomp on the designer outfits? I commanded your little mob to come threaten me? Is that your story?”

Her words left them speechless, trapped.

Before anyone could form a reply, she checked her phone. “You have about two minutes. If you want to finish the job. The head organizer is on his way up. With a full press corps.”

Seraphina Delacroix’s cool composure finally cracked. “What? Reporters are coming here? Now?”

No.4

Seraphina Delacroix had received a tip from a confidential source. The head of the Blackwood family was the main organizer of this year's Auto Show. She had been infatuated with Nathaniel Blackwood for years. She had confessed her feelings to him multiple times. Every single time, he had turned her down. Today, she was thrilled to have another opportunity to see him!

Isabella Montgomery’s crimson lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. “I heard all the organizers are prominent CEOs,” she remarked, her voice deceptively sweet. “They’ll be arriving shortly for a live broadcast. Ten top entertainment reporters are joining them. Imagine the scene when those executives walk in and see this disaster backstage. What will the fans think when they witness a group of established supermodels ganging up on a newcomer?”

Her words, though melodious, felt like a venomous curse to the models. As she spoke, Isabella deliberately ran her fingers through her hair, tousling it until she looked like she had just survived a brutal fight.

Genevieve Laurent finally snapped. “Isabella Montgomery, you are pure evil!” she shrieked, her face contorted with rage. “I will make you pay for this! Just you wait!” She spun around, ready to flee the chaotic scene.

Seraphina grabbed her arm, stopping her cold. “Where do you think you’re going?” she hissed. “Clean this mess up. Now.”

“Me?” Genevieve spat out, incredulous.

“Who else?” Seraphina’s voice was icy. “The rest of you, get your assistants. Start picking everything up off the floor. Now.”

Genevieve and the other models seethed with silent fury. How dare she command them like servants?

A low murmur of voices began to filter in from outside the door. Seraphina shot them a glacial glare. “Do you want your fans to see you as bullies?” she demanded. The models swallowed their pride. They had no choice. They scrambled to gather Isabella’s scattered belongings.

No.5

The floor was a warzone of shattered makeup and ruined accessories. The supermodels frantically collected the debris, their movements frantic and stressed. Genevieve, who had gleefully destroyed everything moments before, was now boiling with hateful anger. If the organizers discovered she was responsible for this costly damage, she would be forced to pay for it all! She hurriedly scooped up the broken items and dumped them into a trash bin. She turned to her panicked assistant. “Go to the warehouse! Get a brand new set of everything! Money is no object!”

“Yes, Miss Laurent!” The assistant scurried away.

The footsteps outside grew louder, more distinct. Seraphina noticed Isabella hadn’t moved a muscle. “Fix your hair!” she ordered, her voice tight with anger. If the fans saw Isabella looking like a victim, the narrative would be set.

Isabella merely shrugged, her expression one of feigned helplessness. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice a soft, pathetic tremor. “I’m so terrified after everyone attacked my things. My whole body has gone numb. I can’t move.”

She can’t move! She’s blatantly refusing to cooperate! The audacity! Seraphina thought, her anger reaching a boiling point. She wanted to strangle Isabella right then and there. But the live stream was imminent. Forcing down her rage, Seraphina strode over to Isabella. With rough, impatient hands, she began smoothing down Isabella’s disheveled hair. Once it was perfectly styled again, Seraphina glared at Isabella’s reflection in the new mirror. “You’ve gotten away with it this time, you savage,” she whispered, her voice dripping with venom. “Just you wait. I will have my revenge.”

“Oh, I look forward to it. Do keep me company until the very end,” Isabella replied. A sinister, arrogant smile played on her lips. She laughed, a sound full of mocking triumph. The surrounding models watched in sullen, hate-filled silence, each wishing for her immediate demise.

The backstage door swung open. A group of men in impeccably tailored suits entered. Seraphina instantly stepped away from Isabella, adopting a neutral expression. The other supermodels scurried back to their own dressing tables, pretending to be engrossed in their preparations. The scene was now one of calm, professional order.

Inside her private changing room, Victoria Kensington was fuming. She felt like screaming. What a useless bunch of idiots! So many of them, and they couldn't even handle one Isabella! How utterly infuriating!

But then, a cold, calculating smirk replaced her anger. She remembered her real plan for the day. Perhaps this squabble being settled was for the best. It would make her own scheme run more smoothly. Today, she would ensure Isabella Montgomery was completely destroyed. She would make sure that woman rotted away in prison for good.

No.6

Nathaniel Blackwood entered with the other executives. The models were already positioned at their stations. Some were having their makeup retouched while others perfected their poses. His eyes scanned the room until they settled on Isabella Montgomery. She lounged indolently in her chair as a makeup artist worked on her complexion. Even in stillness, Isabella radiated a regal and untouchable aura. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched Nathaniel's lips, a private display of affection that went unnoticed by everyone.

The media team surged forward with their equipment, moving efficiently into the space. They began their coverage from the lowest-ranked model, introducing Victoria Kensington before progressing upward to Genevieve Laurent. Just as a cameraman moved in for Isabella's close-up, Nathaniel fixed him with a glacial stare. A collective shiver ran through the reporting crew. They hastily wrapped their segment. "That concludes our live preview," the lead announcer stated abruptly. "Stay tuned for the grand opening of the Mercedes Auto Show momentarily." The entire media contingent evacuated the area with remarkable speed.

Backstage now held only the models, their assistants, Nathaniel, the Mercedes executives, and the event coordinators. With the press gone, Genevieve could no longer contain herself. She turned to a Mercedes executive with a pointed expression. "Mr. Worthington," she began, her voice dripping with condescension, "isn't it completely inappropriate to have those two local models at this caliber of event?"

"Absolutely!" another supermodel chimed in immediately. "And making that rookie the main model? It's a joke!"

"Isabella is utterly unqualified for that position! It should belong to Seraphina!" declared a third model.

The supermodels took turns voicing their objections, each argument squarely targeting Isabella. Mr. Worthington shifted uncomfortably and looked toward Nathaniel. "Mr. Blackwood," he said, his tone strained, "you see the situation. I warned you this decision would cause an uproar." The statement sent a ripple of shock through those who heard it. Nathaniel Blackwood was a titan in Aldovia, controlling vast swathes of the nation's real estate, retail, and hospitality sectors. The exhibition hall itself was Blackwood property.

The formidable Nathaniel Blackwood had personally chosen an unknown newcomer as the main model?

Seraphina Delacroix, who had maintained an image of flawless elegance since Nathaniel's arrival, felt her composure crack. This was unbelievable. Hadn't Nathaniel always been ruthlessly impartial? Wasn't his reputation built on never granting special favors? Selecting Isabella was his direct order?

Dressed head-to-toe in sleek black leather, Seraphina moved toward Nathaniel with a hypnotic sway. "Mr. Blackwood," she purred, her voice a blend of honey and steel, "please, enlighten me. What possible justification is there for choosing her over me? Is she more beautiful? Has she won more prestigious awards? Are her legs longer or more sculpted than mine? Or perhaps she's simply taller?"

No.7

By any objective measure, Isabella was no match for Seraphina. Seraphina was globally crowned the World's Sexiest Model. To men, she was the ultimate fantasy. Her beauty was considered peerless.

Every eye was locked on Nathaniel, waiting for his explanation with bated breath. He regarded Seraphina with an arctic coldness. "My selection," he stated, his voice resonating with absolute, unassailable authority, "is none of your concern." The finality in his tone was a physical force. No one dared to meet his gaze.

Seraphina Delacroix stood frozen in utter disbelief.

She never anticipated such a response.

As an internationally celebrated supermodel, she deserved respect. Yet Nathaniel Blackwood dismissed her outright in favor of that novice, Isabella Montgomery!

How could she ever show her face again after this humiliation?

Seraphina lifted her chin defiantly. "Mr. Blackwood, since you refuse to provide a logical explanation, I quit!"