’The largest shareholder?’
Surprise flashed across Claire’s face.
So Miles was actually the man behind Crescent, one of the biggest names in fashion.
’Isn’t he a doctor? Why is he investing in fashion?’
Yvonne forced herself to stay calm. "Uncle Miles, I may not be the lead designer on this collection, but I know the work very well. I can present it—"
"Fine. One question."
Miles cut her off.
"The ivy-pattern hand embroidery runs across the fabric seams. Silk is delicate. How do you keep the stitching from weakening the garment?"
Fine beads of sweat appeared on Yvonne’s forehead. She could bluff her way through other questions, but she knew almost nothing about traditional hand embroidery.
"W-We’ve accounted for that. We’ll use the technique without compromising the quality..."
As Yvonne stumbled over her answer, doubt started showing on the faces around the room.
Yvonne had never been questioned like this in public. The embarrassment was almost unbearable.
Miles was her own uncle. Why would he ask a question this technical and humiliate her in front of everyone?
She tightened her grip on the microphone and tried to sound composed. "It... it won’t cause any problems."
"That’s not an answer. Do you even believe it yourself?" Miles’s gaze turned colder. "Crescent wants to hear from the person who actually did the work, not a director standing up here reading someone else’s script."
Yvonne’s palm turned damp around the microphone.
"Well, well." Julian Wilde, sitting beside Miles, laughed under his breath and tapped his fingers lazily against the table. "My biggest shareholder is ruthless. You don’t even go easy on your own niece."
Julian turned toward Jacob.
"The contract may be with Sinclair Design, but Crescent is the client. I decide who handles the project from here."
His voice was firm. "Ms. Kendall, please come up."
With everyone watching, Claire walked calmly onto the stage and took the microphone from Yvonne.
"Good afternoon. I’m Claire Kendall, head of Moonstone Studio and the designer behind the Ivy Collection."
Her voice was steady. "The gentleman who just spoke..."
Claire looked at Miles.
Their eyes met across the room.
"He raised an important issue, and I’ve already built a solution into the design. There’s a hidden support layer behind the silk to distribute the tension. I also use a specialized twisted stitch, which keeps the stitching stable without changing the look of the design."
Claire’s explanation was clear, professional, and hard to challenge. The doubtful looks in the audience slowly turned to admiration.
Jacob watched Claire onstage, and something tightened hard in his chest.
He had never seen her like this: confident, composed, radiant.
She was nothing like the timid young woman who used to let her family push her around, or the quiet girlfriend who had always stayed one step behind him.
For a moment, Jacob couldn’t look away.
Yvonne noticed the change in him immediately.
’Why her?!’
Jealousy nearly swallowed Yvonne whole, but she kept the polished smile everyone expected from her.
Claire finished her presentation to loud applause.
"That was excellent." Julian stood. "Ms. Kendall, Crescent has its own production and sales network. Moonstone Studio is independent now. Would you consider a long-term partnership with us?"
The room erupted.
A long-term deal with Crescent was the kind of opportunity most designers could only dream about.
"Mr. Wilde, that’s not how this works!" Jacob shot to his feet, his face dark with anger.
He had sent Claire to Wexall Textile Mill to wear her down until she came back and begged him for help—not to watch her find someone more powerful and throw it back in his face.
"If Crescent wants a long-term partnership, Sinclair Design comes first!"
Julian raised a brow, making no effort to hide his sarcasm. "Mr. Sinclair, there’s a limit to how shameless you can be."
He went on, "Your design department sent me more than twenty drafts on this same theme. I rejected every one. Now I finally have something that can make money, and you want me to take a loss on the rest?"
With the entire room watching, Jacob had nowhere to go.
He gritted his teeth. "That’s not what I meant. Fine, Mr. Wilde. Best of luck with the partnership."
His cold, hostile gaze dragged across Claire like a blade.
The presentation ended, and the crowd began to leave.
"Claire!"
Ian hurried after her again, his face full of concern.
"Wait. There’s something I need to tell you."
Claire stopped.
"OCHH hasn’t been doing well these past few years. After you left, they went a long time without releasing anything new. Your Nova Collection is pretty much what’s kept the brand alive."
Nova.
Claire had designed the collection seven years ago. It won more than thirty design awards worldwide, and nothing OCHH released afterward had surpassed it.
"I saw Lindsay a while ago. She didn’t look good. I think she’s trying to find someone to take over OCHH. Honestly, I think she’s held on this long because she was waiting for you to come back."
"Ian." Claire gently cut him off. "OCHH hasn’t had anything to do with me for years. And I’m not Nati anymore. I’m Claire Kendall now. Claire Kendall of Moonstone Studio."
"But Claire—" Ian tried again.
"It’s late, and I have something to do. Let’s catch up another time."
Claire turned and walked away.
’Lindsay is trying to sell OCHH? No wonder Yvonne wants to buy it.’
A heavy feeling settled in Claire’s chest.
After all, she had built OCHH from the ground up with her own hands.
Claire searched the crowd and found Miles almost immediately.
She hurried after him, her eyes brightening as she caught up.
She deliberately made her voice a little sweeter.
"Dr. Warren, thank you for what you did in there. I didn’t know you understood design that well. That question was very technical."
Julian came over with a grin and threw an arm around Miles’s shoulders.
"Him? Of course he does. Years ago, I made a bad investment and Crescent was about to go under. Then he saw one of my heritage-inspired embroidery designs and dropped 50 million dollars into the company. Just like that. 50 million for 70% of Crescent. I’m supposed to be the boss, but let’s be real—I work for him."
Julian rubbed his chin, mischief flashing in his eyes.
"I’ve never understood it. He’s a doctor. He spends his life with a scalpel in his hand. Why fashion? Then one night we went out drinking. He got a little drunk and let something slip..."
Julian lowered his voice.
"Apparently, he dropped that 50 million because of a girl. What was her name again..."