BRUSHSTROKES OF REVENGE

The applause from The Queen presentation still echoed faintly through the marble corridors of the Royal Pavilion long after the lights dimmed.

The audience had been left breathless, the judges speechless, and the media in a frenzy. It was the kind of moment that would be replayed across every fashion network for weeks to come. Yet, for Mindy Wilson, the night was far from over.

Matthias King had already arranged for Zeus Vision’s professional photographers to capture editorial photographs of every couture piece that had graced the runway.

The photographers were setting up in the Pavilion’s private studio, adjusting lighting and backdrops to immortalize the four designs that had already stunned the world—The Princess, The Betrayal, The Warrior, and The Queen.

Each gown would be documented in exquisite detail, every stitch and shimmer preserved for the upcoming Maxine feature.

There were still two hours before the last design presentation. Every participating company had already showcased four couture creations, and after a short intermission, each would unveil one final masterpiece—the pièce de résistance that could decide the entire competition.

The stakes had never been higher.

Inside the LUXT–Zeus suite, the atmosphere had shifted from the tense precision of pre-show chaos to the warm hum of victory.

The suite, once filled with stylists, assistants, and designers rushing in every direction, now felt almost domestic. The air smelled faintly of perfume and champagne, the remnants of adrenaline still lingering like static.

Everyone had changed into comfortable clothes. The gowns and suits that had dazzled the Pavilion were now carefully hung in garment bags, guarded like treasures.

Emma Wilson and Hannah Knight had excused themselves to the master bedroom to rest after their unexpected runway debut.

Their performance had been flawless, but even queens needed to rest their crowns. The junior design team, too excited to sit still, had hurried back to the Pavilion to watch the remaining companies present their collections.

Only Mindy, Wade, Layla, Ana, Matthias, Dante, and Zac remained in the spacious living room. The group had settled into a loose circle around the coffee table, the tension of the day slowly melting into laughter and quiet conversation.

Layla had kicked off her heels and was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, scrolling through social media posts about the show. Ana was sprawled beside her, still half in disbelief that she had walked the runway in front of the entire fashion world.

Wade was leaning against the bar counter, sipping water. Zac had claimed the armchair nearest the window, his usual smirk firmly in place. Dante stood near the door, silent as always, his presence steady and watchful.

Mindy sat on the edge of the sofa, her posture relaxed but her mind still sharp. Even in moments of calm, her thoughts never stopped moving.

She was already thinking about the final masterpiece, about the details that needed to be perfected, about the message she wanted to leave imprinted on every soul in that Pavilion.

The suite door opened with a soft click.

Adam Gray rolled in, his wheelchair gliding smoothly across the polished floor, Steven pushing him from behind.

The man’s face was lit with genuine warmth, his eyes bright with admiration. ”That,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of sincerity, ”was phenomenal. I’m really glad I came. I would’ve regretted missing something like this.”

Everyone smiled. Mindy rose to greet him, her expression softening. ”Thank you, Mr. Gray,” she said. ”But it wasn’t just me. It was everyone’s hard work.”

Adam nodded approvingly. ”A true leader always says that,” he replied.

”But we both know vision like that doesn’t come from a committee.”

Steven stepped forward, offering polite greetings to everyone before turning to Mindy. ”You were incredible, Miss Wilson,” he said. ”The audience couldn’t take their eyes off the stage.”

Mindy smiled modestly. ”Thank you,” she said. ”I’m glad it resonated.”

After everyone had settled, Adam’s gaze shifted toward Mindy, his expression turning slightly more serious.

”She is here!” he said.

Mindy’s lips curved into a faint smile. ”Is she?”

Adam’s eyes glinted with amusement. ”Of course,” he said. ”My man contacted her the moment she arrived. Everything is proceeding exactly according to plan.”

Layla blinked, looking between them.

”She?” she repeated.

”Who is she?”

Ana leaned forward, curiosity sparking in her eyes. ”Wait—there’s another surprise?”

Mindy’s smile deepened, but she didn’t answer.

”If I tell you now,” she said lightly, ”it won’t be fun anymore.”

Layla groaned, throwing her head back dramatically. ”I hate surprises.”

Adam chuckled. ”You’ll love this one,” he promised.

The exchange left the others intrigued, but Mindy’s calm demeanor made it clear she wasn’t going to elaborate. Whatever she and Adam were planning, it was already in motion.

Adam turned toward Steven. ”I believe you have something to show them,” he said.

Steven nodded, pulling his phone from his pocket. He placed it on the coffee table and pressed play.

The room filled with voices—familiar voices.

”Where are the models?”

”My people kidnapped them exactly like we planned...”

”We should’ve kidnapped Mindy instead...”

”This was your idea...”

”We can’t let her win...”

Then came Missy’s anxious voice, trembling but unmistakable. ”He’ll be furious if we mess this up...”

The recording ended.

Silence fell over the suite like a heavy curtain.

For a long moment, no one moved. The only sound was the faint hum of the air conditioner and the distant murmur of the Pavilion below. The words hung in the air, poisonous and undeniable.

Everyone’s attention was fixed on the phone, on the damning evidence that had just played out before them. Everyone except Mindy.

Her brows drew together slightly, her expression thoughtful rather than shocked. One word echoed in her mind.

He.

Not a name. Not a title. Just he.

She remembered every conversation she’d overheard, every whisper Missy had let slip. Missy had mentioned him before—always in the same tone, always with the same fear. And Kelvin had never once asked who she meant. He had simply understood.

Almost as if they both already knew.

Mindy’s gaze drifted toward the window, her thoughts spiraling inward. So there really is someone else, she thought. Someone standing behind Missy. Behind Kelvin. Someone who never appears, yet moves everyone like chess pieces.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. Just who are you?

For the first time since returning to this life, she felt certain. There wasn’t just one enemy. There was a mastermind—someone still hiding in the shadows, orchestrating everything from afar.

A faint smile curved her lips.

You want to stay hidden? Fine. I’ll simply force you to come out. A chess player only reveals himself when someone overturns the entire board.

Her fingers brushed against the edge of the coffee table. But not now. Not until the right moment.

By the time she looked up again, her expression was perfectly neutral, her thoughts buried beneath calm composure.

The silence shattered when Ana slammed both hands onto the coffee table, making everyone jump.

”What?!” she shouted. ”It was that bitch?!” She shot to her feet, her eyes blazing. ”I’m going to kill her!”

Layla immediately stood beside her, her expression equally murderous. ”I’m coming with you! We’ll do it together!”

Zac leaned back in his chair, watching the two women with mild amusement. He made a mental note to himself: Never, ever make either of them angry.

Mindy exhaled slowly, her patience thinning. ”No one is going anywhere” she said.

Neither woman moved.

Mindy folded her arms, her tone sharpening. ”Sit down”.

Ana and Layla exchanged glances, then reluctantly sank back onto the sofa, still glaring at an imaginary Missy.

Wade chuckled. ”It’d be too easy on them,” he said. ”They deserve something much worse.”

Across the room, Matthias hadn’t spoken a single word. His expression was unreadable, but the air around him had grown colder. The faint hum of conversation faded as everyone gradually noticed the shift in atmosphere.

He sat perfectly still, his silver mask catching the light, but his eyes—those sharp, glacial eyes—were dark with fury. The murderous aura radiating from him was almost tangible.

In his mind, one sentence replayed over and over.

We should’ve kidnapped Mindy instead.

His fists clenched slowly, the leather of his gloves creaking under the pressure. Without realizing it, his gaze drifted toward Mindy.

She was busy calming Ana and Layla, completely unaware that a single sentence had nearly made him lose control.

Something inside him shifted. He had always prided himself on his composure, on his ability to remain detached no matter the situation.

But now, watching her—this woman who had turned chaos into art, who had faced betrayal and still stood unbroken—he realized just how much influence she had over him.

He didn’t like it. And yet, he couldn’t deny it.

Layla crossed her arms, still fuming. ”At least let me punch her once,” she muttered.

Zac raised his hand lazily. ”I’ll gladly help,” he said. ”I’ll hold Missy down.”

Layla’s anger melted into a grin. ”See? I knew you were useful.”

Everyone except Matthias laughed. The tension eased slightly, the room warming again with humor.

Mindy turned back to Steven. ”How did you get this recording?” she asked.

Adam pointed at him proudly. ”All Steven,” he said.

Steven scratched the back of his neck, modest but clearly pleased. ”I was heading toward the restroom,” he explained. ”I heard Miss Hawthorne shouting, so I stayed hidden behind the corner. I listened and recorded everything. I made sure they never saw me.”

He paused, his expression turning thoughtful. ”Oh—one more thing. Mr. Knight’s assistant was also there.”

Mindy’s eyes narrowed slightly. ”Mike,” she murmured. ”Interesting.”

Wade caught on immediately. ”So Layton’s finally starting to suspect her?” he asked.

Mindy didn’t answer. Her silence was answer enough.

She turned back to Steven. ”Can you send me this recording?”

”Of course,” he said. Within seconds, her phone vibrated. Recording received.

Mindy looked at Wade. ”Soften the voices,” she said quietly. ”Distort them. I don’t want anyone identifying Missy or Kelvin directly.”

Wade’s grin was slow and knowing. ”Already thinking five steps ahead,” he said. ”I’ll take care of it.”

Matthias finally spoke, his voice calm but edged with danger. ”Planning something?”

Mindy met his gaze, her eyes glinting with mischief. ”When am I not?” she replied.

Ana sighed dramatically. ”I suddenly feel bad for whoever’s on the receiving end.”

Mindy stood, smoothing the wrinkles from her blouse.

”We’ll deal with that later,” she said. ”Right now, we need to prepare for the final masterpiece.”

The shift in her tone was immediate. The room, which had been buzzing with laughter and anger, fell silent again. Everyone straightened instinctively, their focus returning to the reason they were here.

Adam smiled knowingly.

”I suppose that’s our cue,” he said, extending his hand. ”Good luck. We’ll be cheering from the audience.”

Steven stood as well, offering a polite nod. ”Best of luck, Miss Wilson,” he said. ”I can’t wait to see the finale.”

Mindy shook both their hands, her expression calm but her eyes sharp with determination. ”Thank you,” she said. ”You’ll want front-row seats for this one.”