Chapter 100

Serena's POV

I understood that this wasn't going to be just another design battle. Outmaneuvering the two wouldn't be particularly challenging. The key was to make them feel unthreatened.

In the first round, though I had deliberately held back some of my abilities, I might have shown a bit too much of my hand. I wasn't entirely sure of the other designers' skill levels at that point.

But after that first round, everything became crystal clear. I now knew exactly how to play this game - when to push forward and when to pull back.

I sank in my armchair, scolling the feeds about show, the comments section was already buzzing with speculation, most of them questioning whether my first-round success had been a fluke. I set my phone aside, returning my attention to the production schedule.

My focus was interrupted by an incoming call. Ian Whitmore's name flashed across the screen. For a moment, I considered letting it go to voicemail, but experience had taught me that avoiding confrontation only delayed the inevitable.

"Serena, why embarrass yourself like this?" His voice dripped with familiar condescension. "Everyone knows StarRiver's designers helped with your first design."

I continued reviewing the timeline before me, my pen moving steadily across the page. "What do you want, Ian?"

"I'm trying to help you save face. Your true abilities are finally showing through. You should withdraw before-"

"Is there a point to this call?" The production numbers were far more interesting than his attempted provocations.

"Nina's different from you," he snapped. "Once she wins the competition, we're getting married. You'll never have another chance with me, Serena."

A laugh escaped before I could stop it - genuine, surprised amusement. "Your confidence is fascinating. What makes you think I want another chance?"

His breath caught slightly - a tell I remembered well from our past. "You're just jealous because Nina's rising star is eclipsing yours. But you should worry more about yourself. Lucas Harrington has a fiancée, you know. They just haven't announced it yet. And she's far above your league."

I glanced at the framed photo on my desk - my mother at the opening of StarRiver's first store, her eyes bright with pride and determination. How strange that I'd once thought Ian's approval meant something.

"Goodbye." I ended the call mid-protest, silencing the phone before returning to my work.

Last time Ian Whitemore caused such a mess, I'm not falling for it again this time, not one bit.

Nina's POV

I sat in one of the leather armchairs, watching Evelyn pace back and forth across the imported Persian rug. Her Giorgio Armani heels clicked against the hardwood floor with each step, a rhythmic punctuation to her growing agitation.

"This is absolutely ridiculous!" Evelyn's voice cracked with fury as she slammed her phone onto the leather couch. "Changing partners for the finale? What are they thinking?"

I shared her frustration, but something else gnawed at me - a creeping unease I couldn't quite shake. Each time we'd thought we had Serena cornered in the previous rounds, she'd somehow managed to squeak through. Always last, always barely making it, but making it nonetheless.

Ian sat behind his desk, his expression carefully controlled as he loosened his tie. "I understand your frustration, Evelyn, but the station has already made their announcement."

"You're close with the production team," Evelyn whirled to face him, her designer dress swishing with the movement. "Can't you do something about this?"

"I've already tried," Ian's fingers drummed against his desk. "They were... unreceptive to any suggestions of changes."

I studied Ian's face, noting the slight furrow between his brows that betrayed his own concern. "But this completely changes everything. The finale was supposed to be my moment."

"It still can be," Ian leaned forward, his voice taking on that familiar reassuring tone he used when trying to smooth over a problem. "You're still the strongest designer in the competition, Nina. This is just... an unexpected variable."

"Unexpected variable?" Evelyn let out a sharp laugh. "That's what we called it the last three times we thought we had Serena eliminated. Remember the avant-garde challenge? She was dead last until those last-minute changes somehow won over the judges."

The memory made my stomach clench. I'd been so sure that challenge would be Serena's downfall. "And the streetwear round," I added quietly. "She was struggling the entire time, then pulled out that 'innovative' design in the final hour."

Ian's expression darkened. "That's what concerns me about this partner swap. Serena has shown an... unfortunate talent for adapting to unexpected situations."

The afternoon light had shifted, casting the office in deeper shadows. I watched as Evelyn finally sank into the couch, her anger seeming to deflate into something more like worry.

"I've worked too hard for this," I said, more to myself than to them. "We've all worked too hard to let her ruin everything now."

Ian stood, walking to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked Manhattan. "The question isn't whether we've worked hard enough," he said, his reflection ghostly in the glass. "It's whether we've anticipated everything she might do."

The silence that followed Ian's question felt heavy in the dimming office. I found myself staring at my phone, scrolling through Battle of the Needle's social media feeds. Each post featuring Serena's designs showed the same pattern - consistently high audience engagement, despite her always barely scraping through.

"Ian," I said slowly, my finger hovering over a particularly popular post, "have you noticed something strange about Serena's advancement pattern?"

He looked up from his laptop, eyebrow raised. "What do you mean?"

"Every time she's survived elimination, it's been through audience votes. Not jury decisions, not designer scores - pure public support." The realization made my stomach twist. "What if... what if she's been playing us all along?"

Evelyn stopped her pacing, her heels falling silent on the Persian rug. "Playing us?"

"Think about it," I continued, my voice growing tighter. "She always seems to be struggling, always appears to be on the verge of elimination, but then somehow pulls through at the last minute. What if it's deliberate?"

Ian's expression darkened as he leaned forward in his chair. "That's quite an accusation, Nina."

"Remember that viral collection from StarRiver last season?" The words tumbled out faster now. "The one that broke all their social media records? I always wondered who designed it, since it wasn't credited to their usual team."

A heavy silence fell over the room. The implications hung in the air like smoke.

"We can't let her win the finale, Ian." I tried to keep my voice steady. "Think about what it would mean for the Whitmore name. After everything we've invested-"

"That bitch!" Evelyn suddenly burst out, making me jump. "How did she manage to get Lucas Harrington wrapped around her finger?"

"She's just another one of Lucas's playthings. He already has a fiancée."

I tried to keep my voice steady, but my fingers unconsciously gripped the edge of my chair. Next to me, Evelyn practically bounced in her seat, her eyes lighting up. "Really? Who is it?"

I couldn't help leaning forward too, my pulse quickening. This could be exactly what I needed to drive a wedge between Serena and Lucas. A fiancée in the picture would change everything.

Ian's expression turned maddeningly smug as he waved off Evelyn's question. "Someone way out of our league, so I'll keep that information to myself for now. Can't have you running your mouth and causing trouble for our family, sis."

He paused, catching my eye with a knowing look. "But Nina, your concerns aren't unfounded. Serena's still hanging around Lucas, and he's helping her out - though it's hardly any effort for someone like him."

I took a deep breath, letting my shoulders slump slightly as I perched on the edge of one of Ian's chairs.

"I might have an idea," I said softly, making sure to keep my eyes downcast. "But I'm not sure if we should..."