Chapter 5 - The Angel of Cincinnati
On Monday morning, Mrs. Kim, Brooke, and I sat in the executive reception lobby of Vance Biocosmetics on the top floor of the Carew Tower.
Vance Biocosmetics was the premier independent cosmetic manufacturing facility in the Midwest, known for formulating clean skincare for luxury European brands.
Sitting behind the massive glass desk in the corner office was Marcus Vance, a sharp-featured man of forty-five with silver temples and piercing blue eyes.
Marcus looked at my worn canvas sneakers, my mother’s battered green notebook, and the glass vial of Luxe foundation sitting on his desk.
"Miss Hart," Marcus began, his voice calm, cultured, and devoid of false flattery.
"My niece sent me that TikTok video on Friday night. I receive thirty pitch decks a week from influencers claiming they have reinvented foundation."
"Most of them are repackaging cheap private-label silicones from factories in Guangzhou."
"This isn't private label, Mr. Vance," I said, stepping forward and placing my hands flat on the mahogany table.
"My mother, Anna Hart, worked nineteen years behind retail beauty counters."
"She spent her life watching women feel invisible because the beauty industry refused to understand their undertones."
"This formula uses a proprietary lipid matrix that encapsulates raw mineral iron oxides."
"It produces zero oxidation, requires zero synthetic preservatives, and matches forty-two distinct Fitzpatrick skin tones from a single base suspension."
Marcus Vance looked at me, his gaze calculating and intense.
He picked up the vial, unscrewed the dropper, and placed a tiny bead onto the back of his hand.
He had a deep, weathered golfer’s tan with cool olive undertones.
He blended the cream with his thumb.
The white lotion vanished in four seconds, leaving behind an undetectable, seamless veil that completely blurred the surgical scar on his knuckle.
Marcus stared at his hand for ten full seconds without blinking.
"What is your production capacity right now, Miss Hart?" he asked quietly.
"About three jars a day in the basement of Kim’s 24-Hour Laundry," I answered truthfully.
Marcus threw his head back and let out a rich, booming laugh that echoed off the panoramic glass windows.
"I like you, Lily Hart," Marcus smiled, standing up and extending his hand.
"Here is my offer."
"Vance Biocosmetics will provide two million dollars in seed production capital, FDA cleanroom facilities, and automated high-speed bottling lines."
"We will handle global warehousing, compliance, and distribution."
"In exchange, Vance Biocosmetics takes a fifteen percent manufacturing equity stake."
"You retain eighty-five percent ownership, complete creative control, and permanent chairwoman rights."
"And your mother's name stays on every single bottle that leaves my dock."
Tears blurred my vision as I looked at the contract he slid across the table.
Two million dollars.
A world-class laboratory.
And the name Anna Hart stamped across the global beauty industry.
"There is one condition, Mr. Vance," I said, swallowing the lump in my throat.
"Name it."
"My stepmother and father have hired an attorney to file a fraudulent ownership claim against the formulation."
Marcus Vance smiled, a cold, predatory smirk that made him look like an ancient general inspecting a minor nuisance.
"My chief legal counsel is Evelyn Sterling, the most ruthless intellectual property litigator in the Sixth Circuit," Marcus replied smoothly.
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"If your father tries to touch this company, Evelyn will have him paying our legal expenses until his grandchildren are in retirement."
I picked up the pen and signed my name: Lily Hart, Founder & CEO.
