5. The Wannabe Director

MARISSA

“What the hell did you just say, Marissa?”

Christine’s voice crackled through the phone, raw with disbelief.

“Are you trying to tell me that you are going to become the creative director of the Silver Silk Collection? In the company of the man who killed your child? Is that what you’re saying?”

I stood by the window of a five-star hotel in Greenville, dressed in a silk nightgown, the city glowing quietly beneath me.

“Yes,” I said calmly.

There was silence on the line.

Christine was seventeen thousand kilometers away, yet she was the only person I spoke to freely. She was the only one who truly knew me.

“You know me better,” I continued, swirling the wine in my glass. “I had made that decision with a plan in mind. Those people have no idea what’s coming for them, Christine. They think I am trying to help. Only if they knew.” I shook my head pitifully.

“And Tristan had just shoot himself on the leg by inviting me in. That pathetic fool.”

Another pause.

Then she sighed. “Thank God.”

I smiled faintly.

“The thought of you staying in the same space with those people… alone,” she added. “It irritates me.”

My skin crawled as memories pushed their way back in. The raw image of that night resurfaced. It was dirty, painful, and impossible to wash away. It clung to me like a stain that refused to fade.

“I’ve never forgotten a single moment,” I said quietly. “And now that I’m back, I’ll make sure they never forget either.”

I could already picture it. Already relished the fear that I will etch in their mind.

“Yes,” Christine said with satisfaction. “That’s my girl. Update me on everything. Love you.”

The call ended.

I took a long sip of wine and swallowed it.

Get ready for me, Tina. Tristan.

A sardonic smile curved my lips as I set the glass aside.

Three days after the banquet, I agreed to return.

Today was the day.

Tristan had emailed me earlier this morning, asking me to report directly to the design department once I arrived. So when I stepped into Vance Fashion House, a woman was already waiting for me.

She greeted me politely and led the way.

“Ma’am,” she said as we walked, “Mr Tristan has an urgent meeting. He asked that you proceed to the design department and begin work.”

We were meant to sign agreements today, formalities before my official start but I didn’t mind the change. He had begged me to pardon him for the change in schedule because of an emergency.

“Alright,” I replied coolly.

The company hadn’t changed much.

The last time I had walked these halls, I was invisible.

Vance House was filled with fashionable and pretty employees. Since I was fat in the past, even when I walked past the hall, no one would notice. Even though I was the brains behind the company’s success.

Today was different.

I walked in wearing my own designs, pieces born from my collection. Confidence wrapped around me like a crown. Heads turned. Whispers followed.

“Isn’t that Queen?”

“I heard she’s the new creative director here.”

“We get to see her every day now? That’s insane.”

I said nothing. I didn’t need to.

We reached the floor housing the creative design department. The door opened.

And there she was.

Tina sat in the seat which I immediately recognized as that for the head of the team.

Five others surrounded the conference table while a presentation continued, her posture arrogant as she dictated decisions.

The woman beside me spoke softly. “Ma’am, you can settle in. I need to attend to something.”

She left.

I stood there, watching.

What the hell was this bitch doing in my seat?

I took one step forward.

Then another.

The presentation paused.

“Come in,” Tina said dismissively, without looking up.

Then she raised her head. The other members did too while they were all excited to see me, Tina was different.

Her scoff came instantly. “What are you doing there?”

I smiled. “I should be asking you the same thing. What are you doing sitting on a chair meant for someone else?”

Her expression twisted. “This is my seat.”

“Oh?” I tilted my head. “Funny. That’s the seat of the creative director.”

“I am the creative director of this team,” she snapped. “And you’re not even supposed to be in this vicinity. Did you wake up today and decide to barge in here because you are no longer fat? Or because Mr Smith supported you because you warmed his bed? This is my forte. Now get the hell out!” Her eyes glared.

Murmurs spread through the room. Apparently, they hadn’t expected such crude remarks aimed at someone as influential as Queen.

It was obvious my new look gnawed at Tina’s nerves.

And she still couldn’t accept the fact that I wasn’t the same anymore.

“Poor thing,” I said intentionally, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“What did you just say?” Tina stood and began to approach me.

My lips curled into a sardonic smile. “You don’t even have the brains to design the most basic collection, Tina. How could you possibly be the head director of Silver Silk 2.0, hm?” I asked with a mocking drawl.

“I have been the creative director of Vance Fashion House for years and…”

“I was the originator of Silver Silk 1.0,” I interrupted effortlessly. “You stole my position and kept refurbishing my design for years. Now you can’t keep up any longer. As a result, the company is bleeding.”

My cold statement made Tina stiffen. Her eyes shifted sideways as whispers broke out around the table. She couldn’t believe I could stand up to her like this. Well, this was just the beginning.

“Did you hear that? Tina stole Queen’s design?”

“That’s insane.”

“Now that Queen is back, she should step aside. I don’t understand why Tina is still fighting.”

“Shut the hell up, you fools!” Tina shrieked, pointing at no one in particular. All of them immediately lowered their heads.

I laughed out loud.

“What’s so funny?” Tina demanded, the veins on her neck almost popping.

I walked over to a stack of files, my heels clicking softly against the floor. That was the design being proposed for silver silk 2.0

“I wasn’t wrong. Bland…” I tossed one file aside. “Distasteful…” Another followed.

“Unoriginal…” Then I flung the rest into the air.

“All of them are an insult to my original design!” I slammed my hand on the table.

The entire room froze.

For once, Tina was silent, but not for long.

She charged toward me. “No matter what you say or do, you will never take my place, Marissa. You will remain the ugly, disgusting, unwanted ex wife of…”

Before she could finish, I slapped her.

The sound echoed sharply.

Tina clutched her face, stunned. “You crazy bit…”

I slapped her again.

At that moment, all I could think of was how she had flaunted my design as her own all those years ago. Seeing her now, sitting there and parading as the designer of my work, set my blood boiling.

“Call me one more filthy name,” I said coldly, “and I’ll ruin that face so badly you won’t be able to fix it. Not even with surgery.”

“I dare you!” she shrieked. Of course, Tina was never one to be easily tamed.

I stepped forward.

She backed away instinctively.

Her lips trembled. “Marissa, you crazy bitch…”

She lunged forward.

A voice cut through the air.

“If you dare touch even a strand of her hair,” the voice said slowly, “I will deal with you.”

The entire room froze.