By dawn, the city was already humming with Elena’s name. Newspapers sold out at kiosks, digital outlets flooded with op-eds, and every social media feed pulsed with images of The Phoenix Collection.
“A Masterful Rebirth.”
“From Scandal to Spectacle.”
“Elena de la Cruz Defies the Odds.” Photographs of her crimson-and-gold gown blazed across screens, captions heralding her audacity. Hashtags soared. Young designers posted tributes, seamstresses tweeted pride in their craft, and fashion enthusiasts declared her showcase the boldest move of the season.
But alongside the praise came knives. Critics sneered that her designs were “too theatrical,” that her defiance was “a distraction from moral failings.” Some columnists branded the event “a stunt to overshadow disgrace.” And on the glossy society pages, the real dagger gleamed.
Regina Velasco had granted an exclusive interview.
The headline read: “Velasco on De la Cruz: Phoenix or Mirage?”
Regina’s portrait was immaculate—pearl earrings, understated gown, her smile carefully practiced. The article dripped with sympathy that stung sharper than venom.
“Elena’s courage is commendable,” Regina said sweetly. “But fashion is not just spectacle. It requires consistency, stability, trust. The public should ask: can a woman entangled in scandal truly be trusted to lead an industry into the future?”
The piece contrasted Elena’s “recklessness” with Regina’s “measured leadership.” Photos of Regina hosting charity galas filled the pages, her elegance standing in stark opposition to Elena’s fiery rebellion.
By mid-afternoon, the industry was split. Some clients called, eager to collaborate on bold new designs. Others canceled contracts quietly, unwilling to be associated with controversy. The air was thick with both admiration and suspicion.
Inside her office, Elena sat with the papers spread before her. She felt both the heat of triumph and the chill of uncertainty. For every article hailing her as a phoenix, another painted her as a woman dancing on the edge of ruin.
Daniel leaned against her desk, arms crossed, watching her read. “She’s scared of you,” he said flatly. “That’s why she’s pushing back so hard. Last night shook her.”
Elena traced her finger over Regina’s photo, the pearl earrings glinting smugly in monochrome. Her chest tightened, but not from fear. From anger.
“She thinks she’s buried me in ashes,” Elena murmured. “But I’m just getting started.”
Next Chapter
Previous Chapter
BLAZING COLLECTION ❤
No comments:
Post a Comment