Chapter 12

Meanwhile, Eric had reached Winnie's door and, with polite precision, reported, "Miss Loxley, here is your dress and shawl, as you requested—"

Winnie hurriedly grabbed them, clutching them to her chest. "Okay, okay, thank you, thank you, thank you…"

With a loud bang, she slammed the door, leaving Eric standing there, frozen in shock.

Van paused for a moment, processing the scene, and then let out a quiet, almost amused chuckle.

The freshly dried dress carried the scent of high-end laundry detergent. Winnie slowly slid down the door, burying her flushed face in her hands.

"Ugh…" she whimpered softly, like a little animal in defeat.

How embarrassing. She had never made such a fool of herself since debuting!

After ten o'clock, the crowd gradually dispersed, and the music played by the band shifted from upbeat dance tunes to more relaxed, mellow blues.

Winnie had finished her bath and was lying on the bed when she answered a call from her manager, David. He asked how her evening had been.

Winnie let out a cold laugh. "Did you sell me out to Wyatt? Let me guess, Wyatt asked for me, and you said I was available, but only if Mia came along, right?"

"You should play dumb when it suits you. I was wrong, okay? Stop being so fierce."

"Mia has potential, I get it if you want to promote her," Winnie said, turning on her side and pressing the phone to her face. Her gaze turned distant. "I'm not finished yet."

"What are you talking about!" David said, sounding almost desperate, swearing on the line, "If I even thought for a second that you were on the decline, I'd have made plans in advance. Tomorrow, I'll—"

"Enough," Winnie stopped him before he could go any further with his rant. "We've been working together for so many years. If you really want to make good on that oath, I'd at least shed a few tears. That would be so annoying."

David knew well that Winnie was hard on the outside but soft on the inside. Over the years, if he hadn't figured out how to handle her prideful and independent nature, she'd be impossible to manage. He chuckled on the other end of the line. "My dear, don't pretend you didn't want to come to this kind of event yourself. The place is full of high society, maybe there's someone there for you."

Winnie smirked silently and then said sweetly, "Well, I'll take your good wishes then."

At times like this, her sweetness wasn't really sweet—it wasn't meant to make someone's heart melt, but rather to annoy them. But David, after all these years, had developed an immunity to it.

Without missing a beat, David pressed on with no expression. "You should go ahead and do the haute couture shoot, it's already been arranged by Mr. Robinson. The photographer and makeup artist are downstairs waiting."

Winnie slowly sat up in bed. "What do you mean? Do you want me to make an official announcement?"

Wyatt, did he want to make sure that the fans, the media, the whole world knew how this dress came to her? Did he really think she was his property?

"A haute couture piece that was just released two weeks ago, the first global wearer—do you realize how big of a deal that is? You offended Elva before, caused a rift with her studio, and your fashion resources have been dwindling. You know that. This is your chance to regain some ground."

"I don't need it," Winnie replied directly.

"Be good," David placated. "The brand wants to see the photos before they loan it out, and the official copy is already approved."

This time, David didn't give her a chance to argue, and hung up the phone. After a while, Eric indeed came to ask, "Miss Loxley, your photography and makeup team…"

Winnie slid her hands into her pockets, taking a deep breath to steady her rising blood pressure, then responded in a calm tone: "Let them in."

It was just after 10 p.m., and she thought, "What's the big deal about a late-night makeup session? It's nothing. I've survived countless late nights on set."

When she opened the door, her face was already adorned with a friendly smile, as usual. "Thank you for coming so late, I really appreciate it."

The three staff members—photographer, lighting technician, and makeup artist—were holding their equipment, shaking their heads in unison: "It's our pleasure…"

Behind them was Wendy, the young girl who had truly become her assistant tonight. Winnie talked to her without hesitation. "Wendy, go ahead and order some late-night snacks and desserts from the hotel."