Chapter 5

Lewis exhaled sharply, forcing himself to calm down. Then he turned back to the phone, typing one last message.

“We're on in ten minutes. Where the hell are you?"

No reply.

He just shoved the phone back into the assistant's waiting hands and ran his hand down his face.

Miss A had always been difficult—mysterious, but she had never not shown up for a showcase. Never. And she knew better than to stand him up at a time like this.

He peeked through the curtains. The hall was packed with buyers, investors, and the press. And the front row seats were filled with people who could make or break him in seconds.

And more importantly, his rivals.

“She'll show up." He said, pulling back, trying to convince himself. “We’ll begin with the secondary line. Make sure to stall as long as you can until we can get Miss A’s location.”

The assistant clutched the tablet in her arms tighter. "But, sir, those pieces aren't meant to lead.”

“They'll have to.” He snapped. “Just open with them."

“Sure thing, sir." She moved away just as the lights dimmed.

Solene swallowed and stood her ground, something boiling deep inside her. She had an hour to do what she came for and get back to the airport.

She watched Lewis pull out his phone, panic visible on his face as he scrolled through it.

Nyla suddenly rushed towards him, champagne glass in hand. “What's the delay, Stanley? You know daddy is short tempered."

He pulled her by the waist, but she swatted his hand.

"My designer isn't reachable.” He said.

"Well, do something about it.” She snapped, glaring at him before walking away again.

He just ran his fingers through his hair, applause renting the air as the host's voice echoed through the speakers, introducing Crawford Atelier.

Solene's phone buzzed, “Are the models in place?" She asked quietly. “Alright. Let them out when it's time."

She took one last glance at Lewis, then stood from where she sat, disappearing into the shadows.

Lewis straightened himself, adjusting his jacket as a hand tapped his shoulder from behind.

“You've got this,” Charles said, appearing beside him.

Lewis nodded at his friend and raised his chin, ready to appear as soon as the first model appeared.

Then music began, and the curtains parted.

The first model stepped onto the runway, her steps bold and confident, her body fitting into the design like it were made for her. Her—Lewis froze.

That silhouette. That cut.

His breath caught for a second, unable to take his eyes off the moving figure.

Murmurs rippled through the crowd—murmurs of approval and his company moving up the charts.

The model turned under the light, the fabric catching fire in gold and obsidian tones. Then a second model appeared. Then a third.

The stitching was unmistakable.

That was not a secondary piece.

“Those are Miss A's designs for the showcase.” His assistant said in surprise, stepping beside him.

Lewis's brows creased. “Find her for me." He turned around just as the assistant scurried away. “And find out where those models are coming from!” He ordered sharply, his breath becoming heavy.

Everyone scurried around, their faces covered in panic as they searched every nook and cranny and even amongst themselves for anyone with the slightest resemblance to Miss A's assistant.

Still, Lewis couldn't take his eyes off the stage. More models streamed out wearing flawless pieces he'd marvelled at and approved immediately. He wanted to bawl his eyes out.

This wasn't just disobedience. It was humiliation.

In a flash, he was at the end where the models were pouring out of. But as soon as he got there, the music softened, and the models paused at the end of the runway.

Then someone else stepped through where he'd just left.

Everyone turned—including Lewis. And every movement paused.

Solene.

‘What?!’ Lewis's head screamed.

Solene stepped forward—walked slowly, not like a wife attending her husband's event, but like a woman who owned every corner of the room.

Her black hair fell loose down her back, and her outfit was as dark as her eyes. Her expression was calm, almost serene, but she didn't lose contact with the crowd.

This wasn't what she'd initially planned. But she was going to take back what was her own.

“What the hell is she doing here?" Lewis said out loud, and before Charles could pull him back, he stepped onto the stage, his brows creased in both confusion and anger.

Cameras clicked.

She was not just about to blab about his affair—right in the middle of his event.

Murmurs grew, each person whispering to another—or themselves—about who she was.

But as she stopped at the center of the runway, the crowd fell silent.

Cameras clicked.

Solene lifted her gaze, her eyes scanning the people until they finally settled briefly on Lewis.

She didn't look angry, nor triumphant. Just an unreadable look, which still made Lewis's stomach turn.

A side of her lips curved.

“Sir, we need to get her off the stage." His assistant whispered in panic.

But Lewis could hardly blink, his eyes catching the guards on each side of the stage. “No." He finally said. “It'll ruin my event further. Just wait for an instruction.”

Solene gestured to a stagehand and took the microphone from him. Then she turned back to the audience, mounting every audacity she'd bottled up for years.

“Some of you may know me, but most of you won't. So let me introduce myself.” Her voice was firm and clear. "My name is Solene Ferdinand."

"Ferdinand?” Lewis repeated.

"Also known as Miss A.”

The room exploded with gasps, whispers, and more flashing lights. And some people even took out their phones to make personal videos.

"That's impossible!” Lewis thundered. "You're talking shit.” He stepped forward, but a guard was faster, blocking his way.

Lewis turned to his assistant, who looked terrified. “Confirm this,”

But the lady nodded, and that was all the confirmation he needed.

His chest collapsed.

Solene watched them take it in. And in a corner of her eye, she saw the horror on Lewis's face.

She continued, unshaken. “Every design you see tonight was created, funded, and owned by me." She paused. "And as of today, I'm no longer affiliated with Crawford Atelier.”

Lewis forced his way forward. “Solene, no. You can't do this. We're married.”

She scoffed, her face painted in disgust. "Married? Now you want to call it marriage?" Before he could say another word, she tapped her fingers towards her assistant, and Mae came forward with some papers.

“Remember this?" She asked, flashing the paper in front of him.

Lewis grabbed the papers with shaky hands, his eyes reading the words like his life depended on it.

The floor tilted beneath him.

“That's the divorce agreement." She said coldly. "You signed without reading, thinking it was one of my usual attempts at trying to beg you to treat me right."

She paused, facing him squarely. “You agreed to hand over every dime I've ever spent on you, Lewis Crawford."

The crowd gasped again, each person still glued to their seats though they knew the showcase was already over.

Lewis stared at the paper, rereading the clause over and over with his signature neatly sitting at the bottom of the page.

No one needed to read him the handwriting on the wall.

His breath quivered. “No.”

Solene let out a slow breath and dropped the microphone.

Then with one last glance at the crowd, she turned away.