Chapter 7 - An Unexpected Alliance
Victoria Sterling did not knock; she entered the studio with the unmistakable presence of old-money royalty. Dressed in an impeccably tailored charcoal cashmere coat, she carried a vintage leather portfolio beneath her arm. Her sharp, pale blue eyes scanned the room, lingering for a long moment on the mannequin displaying the slashed dress with its tentative gold-thread repairs.
"It looks considerably better in person than it did on that vulgar video," Victoria said, her voice crisp and dry.
"Mrs. Sterling," I said, wiping chalk dust from my apron. "To what do I owe the honor? I assumed the Ward family’s social circle had declared a total quarantine on Bennett and Thread."
"Denise Ward’s social circle consists entirely of sycophants and cowards," Victoria replied, setting her portfolio down on the cutting table. "I have despised that woman since we were debutantes in nineteen seventy-eight. She has spent her entire life pretending to possess refinement while behaving like an alley cat with a trust fund. What she tried to do to you—and to that poor girl carrying her grandchild—was beyond distasteful. It was barbaric."
Victoria unzipped the leather portfolio and pulled out a stack of crisp, cream-colored documents.
"I happen to own a forty-percent stake in Apex Capital," Victoria continued smoothly. "When I saw your live broadcast, I had my auditors pull the complete file on the Ward bridge loan. The promissory note Caleb signed was entirely fraudulent, executed through an unauthorized corporate entity. This morning, I instructed the board to dissolve the freeze on your business accounts immediately."
Relief washed over me so suddenly that my knees felt weak. I placed a hand against the table to steady myself. "Thank you, Mrs. Sterling. You have no idea what that means to me."
"Do not thank me yet, Miss Bennett," Victoria said, raising an eyebrow. "I am an investor, not a philanthropist. I saw the announcement you made regarding the Phoenix Initiative. It is brilliant. The narrative is utterly irresistible to the modern luxury market. I want to fund the entire debut runway show during Autumn Fashion Week."
Nia dropped her measuring tape, her jaw hanging slack. Victoria didn't flinch; she simply opened the portfolio further, revealing a certified cashier’s check made out to Bennett and Thread for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.
"This is operating capital," Victoria stated. "In exchange, I want Bennett and Thread to design twelve exclusive couture pieces for the Sterling Foundation's annual autumn gala. You will have full creative control. You will employ whatever craftspeople you require. And most importantly, you will allow me the distinct pleasure of watching Denise Ward choke on her own irrelevance when you debut that restored gown on the most prestigious runway in the state."
I looked at the check, then up at Victoria’s calculating, elegant smile. This wasn't charity; it was strategic corporate vengeance wrapped in high-fashion couture. And it was exactly what I needed.
"I have one condition," I said.
Victoria tilted her head, amused. "A seamstress with conditions. I like that. Name it."
"Belle Knox must be hired as the logistics coordinator for the runway show, with her salary fully guaranteed through the Sterling Foundation for the next two years. She needs independence from the Ward family, and she needs a legitimate career path that Denise can never touch."
Victoria studied me for a long, quiet moment, the corners of her mouth curving into genuine respect. "Done. Have your attorney review the contracts by five o'clock. Oh, and one more thing, Miss Bennett."
May you like
"Yes?"
"Caleb Ward was released on bail this morning," Victoria said, pulling on her leather driving gloves. "His mother liquidated her personal jewelry collection to post the bond. Be careful. Desperate people with ruined reputations have a tendency to do exceedingly foolish things."
