Chapter 10

Alexander’s POV

The meeting ended, and I leaned back slowly in my chair.

A dull fatigue settled over me, pressing heavily against my temples. I closed my eyes for a moment and pressed my fingers against the sides of my head, trying to ease the tension that had been building since morning.

Documents were scattered across my desk, waiting to be reviewed.

I knew I should continue working.

But for a brief moment, my body refused to respond.

The sound of my phone ringing broke the silence.

I picked it up and glanced at the screen before answering.

Isabella’s voice came through, soft as always, though there was a trace of dissatisfaction beneath it.

She asked if I was still at the company, then explained that she wanted to come over. After a short pause, she mentioned that the shoot had been canceled unexpectedly. According to her, Vivienne had left without giving a clear explanation, saying only that something urgent had come up.

I frowned slightly.

“That is not like her,” I said.

I knew Vivienne’s work habits well. She never treated projects carelessly, especially not something as important as a brand endorsement.

“There must have been a reason,” I added.

Isabella gave a light laugh that did not quite reach her tone.

“Perhaps,” she said. “But I still thought it would be better to confirm things with you directly.”

I told her to come to the office.

When she arrived, she carried herself with the same calm elegance that had always drawn attention. She took a seat across from me and repeated the situation briefly before moving on to another matter.

“I would like to bring my own makeup artist for the shoot,” she said.

I looked up.

She explained that her skin had been sensitive since returning from abroad and that local artists might not understand her preferences. She spoke carefully, emphasizing that her personal artist knew her style best and would ensure the final result met expectations.

At first, I did not see the issue.

“Why tell me something like this?” I asked.

She smiled faintly.

“Because every detail matters,” she said. “If something goes wrong later, I do not want it to seem like I was being uncooperative.”

Her reasoning sounded reasonable.

I nodded.

She had always been attentive to details.

At the same time, a quiet thought surfaced.

Vivienne had not mentioned canceling the shoot.

The contrast between their approaches became noticeable.

Still, I chose not to interfere.

I had always respected Vivienne’s independence in managing V and R.

This should not require my involvement.

Vivienne’s POV

The next morning, Isabella and her team arrived on time.

The set remained intact from the previous day, so preparations moved quickly.

For a brief moment, everything seemed to be progressing smoothly.

Then my assistant rushed toward me.

“There is a problem in the makeup room,” she said, her voice tense.

I stood up immediately and walked toward the room.

Before I reached the door, Sophie came out, her expression filled with frustration.

“You need to see this,” she said.

Inside, the atmosphere was tense.

Eliza greeted me with a composed smile and introduced Isabella’s personal makeup artist, Mira. Her tone was polite, but there was a subtle sense of confidence beneath it.

Sophie stood nearby, clearly dissatisfied.

I looked at the finished styling.

It did not match the concept.

Not even close.

I turned to Eliza.

“This does not follow the agreed direction,” I said calmly.

She responded smoothly, explaining that Mira believed her design complemented the outfit better and would enhance Isabella’s overall appearance.

Sophie interrupted, unable to hold back.

“This will ruin the entire shoot,” she said sharply.

Eliza remained relaxed.

“As long as Isabella looks beautiful, the audience will not care about these details,” she replied.

I stepped forward before the argument could escalate.

“This is not about preference,” I said. “This is about respecting the agreement.”

My voice remained calm, but firm.

“Any changes should have been discussed in advance.”

For a brief moment, the room fell quiet.

Then Isabella spoke.

“I forgot to mention it,” she said lightly. “I already discussed it with Alexander, and he approved.”

Everything went still.

The words settled heavily in my mind.

In that instant, the arguments I had prepared lost their meaning.

He had already interfered.

Again.

Months of planning.

Careful coordination.

Every detail I had built piece by piece.

All of it dismissed with a single sentence.

Sophie looked stunned.

“Why would he involve himself in something like this?” she asked.

Isabella smiled faintly.

“He trusts my judgment,” she replied.

Eliza added calmly that if there were doubts, we were free to confirm with him directly. Her tone shifted slightly as she mentioned that Isabella had other endorsement opportunities and would not hesitate to withdraw if cooperation became difficult.

The implication was clear.

Sophie’s anger became impossible to hide once we stepped outside.

She spoke openly, criticizing Isabella’s attitude and questioning her professionalism.

Ariana tried to ease the tension, suggesting adjustments if necessary.

Then both of them turned to me.

“What do you want to do?” Sophie asked.

I remained silent for a moment.

Then I said quietly, “Wait in the lounge.”

I walked away before they could respond.

The hallway felt unusually quiet.

I stopped at a corner and took out my phone.

For a brief moment, I hesitated.

Then I dialed his number.

He answered quickly.

“I need to confirm something,” I said.

My voice sounded steady.

“Did you approve Isabella bringing her own makeup artist?”

There was a short pause.

“What is the issue?” he asked.

I explained everything clearly. The concept, the conflict, and the risk to the project.

When I finished, silence followed.

For a brief second, I thought he might understand.

Then his voice changed.

“Is there a misunderstanding?” he asked.

The words felt distant.

“She would not intentionally disrupt a project,” he continued.

My grip on the phone tightened.

Then his tone shifted again.

“Why was the shoot canceled yesterday?” he asked. “Why was she not informed properly?”

The question struck harder than anything else.

I understood immediately.

He did not trust my judgment.

My silence seemed to confirm something in his mind.

He continued speaking, his tone calm but firm.

Each word felt sharper than the last.

I could no longer process what he was saying.

My chest tightened.

My breathing became uneven.

The world around me felt distant.

I did not want to hear anything else.

Without thinking, I ended the call.

The phone slipped from my hand.

It hit the floor with a sharp sound that echoed through the empty hallway.

I stood there, frozen.

My mind completely blank.