Chapter 27 – The Loom of Reckoning

The city was already awake when Elena arrived at the atelier, though dawn’s light had barely touched the horizon. Manila’s streets pulsed with their usual hum, but inside her studio, silence reigned. Only the faint tick of the clock on the wall dared to break it. Elena stood before the mirror in her office, not as a designer appraising her craft, but as a woman preparing for war. Her reflection looked back with steady eyes—tired, yes, but sharpened. The weeks of clandestine interviews and hushed exchanges had left shadows beneath her eyes, yet her posture was unyielding. She had not merely survived the storm; she had harnessed it. Daniel entered quietly, a folder in his hand. He placed it on the desk between them. “Everything is ready. Testimonials, documents, the recordings—they’re all in here.” Elena let her fingers brush the folder’s edge. It seemed impossibly small for something so combustible. Within it lay the truths Regina Velasco had built her empire to conceal. “Once this is out, there’s no undoing it,” Daniel said softly. “You’ll be challenging not just her, but everyone who’s profited from her silence.”

Elena turned from the mirror and faced him. “Good. Let them choose where they stand.”

You Pick, You React

Her plan was clear. She would call a press conference—her own, not hidden behind the glamour of a collection or the smoke of scandal. No gowns, no glitter. Just Elena de la Cruz, standing in the light with the voices of those Regina had crushed. She would show the world who the real predator was. But she also knew what it meant. Regina would not stand idle. She would strike back with the ferocity of a cornered beast, wielding her influence in ways Elena could barely anticipate. Allies might abandon her. Clients might flee. The industry might split down the seams. Still, Elena was resolute. “If I let fear dictate my choices, I’m no better than the woman who has shadowed me all these years.” Daniel’s hand found hers, grounding her. “You don’t have to carry this alone.” She smiled faintly, though the weight of what was coming pressed hard against her ribs. “I know. But I do have to lead it.” That night, as the atelier lights dimmed and the city glowed beneath a thousand streetlamps, Elena made the calls. Reporters. Editors. Influential clients who still trusted her. Her voice was steady with every word: “Tomorrow, I have a statement to make. You’ll want to hear it.” When she finally ended the last call, she stood by the window, staring out into the restless night. Somewhere out there, Regina Velasco was preparing her own countermove. Elena could feel it, like the tightening of a thread before it snaps.

But tomorrow, the truth would leave the shadows. And no one—not even Regina—could stitch it back into silence.
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