Early the next morning, I drove to the studio.
I still had personal books and several business authorization documents in my office, and I intended to pack them up and take them with me.
But the moment I opened the door, I stopped.
The display racks that had once held years of ready-to-wear samples had been dismantled and scattered across the lobby. Chloe was directing workers as they carried away dress forms and fitting equipment.
When she saw me, she walked over in high heels. "Grace, several major textile mills down south cut off our supply of custom-woven fabrics today. I called them, and they said they'll only honor orders with your signature."
"I told them to stop supplying you," I replied calmly.
Her smile froze. "Why? How are we supposed to make samples now?"
Lucas happened to emerge from the back room holding design drawings, his face dark. "I'd like to know that too. Grace Hartley, there's a limit to how far you can take this tantrum. How is the new couture studio supposed to operate after you cut off the supply chain?"
"You and Ms. Whitaker can use your remarkable talents to negotiate new contracts."
"Grace Hartley!" Lucas's voice dropped. "Those mills worked with us for 10 years. You cut them off just like that. Do you have any idea how hard it is to rebuild a premium fabric supply chain?"
I looked at him quietly. "I do."
Ten years ago, to persuade one century-old textile mill to work with us, I stood in pouring rain outside the mill manager's office for two days before they finally agreed to sell us our first batch of premium wool fabric.
Lucas, meanwhile, only had to sit in his bright, spacious design room, cut fabric, and casually say, "Get the same fabric we used last time."
'Of course he has no idea how hard it is.'
Lucas drew a deep breath, visibly forcing down his anger, and pushed a polished new proposal across the table. "Enough. Sign this first."
It was the equity and role allocation plan for the new couture studio.
Lead Designer: Lucas Mercer
Creative Director: Chloe Whitaker
I stared at the page for a long time. When I finally turned to the last page, the line for Head of Operations was conspicuously blank.
Lucas explained from beside me, "All our client accounts, business filings, taxes, administration, and PR run through you. No one else can do that job."
Chloe leaned closer with a smile. "Grace, whether your name is printed on that sheet or not, you're still the one who keeps everything running. Lucas and I only understand art. We can't do without you when it comes to all that tedious business stuff."
I closed the proposal.
'So this is how they see me. After 10 years of building everything with him, I'm not even worth a name on the new company's paperwork. I'm simply their unpaid, on-call fixer.'
At that moment, the PR manager rushed in, visibly panicked. "Ms. Hartley, we're in trouble! The franchise partners' group chat is blowing up, and calls from VIP clients haven't stopped. Everyone wants their substantial advance payments refunded, and they're threatening to sue us for unilateral breach of contract."
The PR manager looked at me. "Ms. Hartley, what do we say in the statement?"
"Ask Mr. Mercer."
The PR manager stared at me. "But... you always handled every crisis response yourself before."
"Not anymore."
Lucas's face finally turned completely cold. "Grace, how long are you going to keep making a scene? I told you yesterday I'd buy you a more expensive replacement for that fabric. Are you really going to ignore the future of the entire label over some petty jealousy?"
Just as the tension was about to explode, my personal phone rang.
It was Victor Coleman, the label's largest angel investor.
I put him on speaker in front of Lucas.
"Grace, I need to confirm something. Lucas said at the press conference yesterday that you're shifting into niche couture, and that the old operations framework, registered trademark, and client base will all be transferred directly into the new couture studio. He said that was your decision too. Is that true?"
I looked at Lucas. A flicker of guilt crossed his eyes.
I answered clearly, "No."
Lucas's breath caught.
There was silence on the other end for several seconds before Victor's voice turned serious. "Do you own any part of the new couture studio or have any oversight over it?"
"I'm not involved in any part of it."
"All right. I understand. We'll begin winding down our existing investment."
Aksara