Into the Lion's Den

The invitation lay open on Lily's desk like a challenge. The royal crest was pressed into the wax, its golden ink still glinting under the light.

Michelle leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. "A fashion exhibition at the palace... It's either a compliment or a trap."

Aiden folded his arms. "Or both."

Lily stood silent for a moment, tapping her fingers lightly on the desk. "We can't refuse. Refusal would make us seem guilty."

"So, we accept," Michelle said, standing. "But we do it our way. Let's show them what Mily really is."

The next morning, the showroom became a whirlwind of activity. Models moved in and out for fittings. Seamstresses enchanted fabrics to shimmer like starlight. Lily stood at the center, sketching and directing like a commander at war.

"I want this one embroidered with phoenix feathers," Lily said, pointing to a deep crimson gown. "Gold thread, but subtly. Like fire licking up from the hem."

"That's for the finale piece, right?" Michelle asked, walking in with a clipboard. "The Crowned Flame Collection?"

Lily nodded. "Inspired by Virellion's lost royal heritage. But I won't say that out loud. Let them interpret."

Aiden stepped in. "Just make sure the message is powerful enough to stir awe — not suspicion."

Michelle grinned. "Leave the charm to me. You just make the nobles gasp."

Two days before the exhibition, a whispering wind of gossip swept through the capital.

"Have you heard? The new brand, Mily — run by someone named Mira Everen — has caught the attention of the Empress."

"They say she designs like someone who's lived in the palace before."

Inside Mily's office, Michelle dropped a stack of newspapers onto the table. "People are sniffing around, Lily."

Lily frowned. "That's to be expected. But it's dangerous."

Aiden poured himself a cup of black tea. "Which is why I think you shouldn't speak at the event. We can have a spokesperson. Or better yet—"

"No," Lily interrupted. "They'll expect the founder. If I hide, they'll wonder more. I'll go. But I won't speak more than necessary."

Michelle looked at her. "And your voice? Your presence?"

"Controlled. Poised. Mira Everen is nothing like Seraphina."

The palace gates opened with a quiet groan as the gilded carriage bearing the Mily crest rolled in. Inside, Lily adjusted her velvet gloves.

Michelle leaned in. "You good?"

"Nervous," Lily confessed. "But determined."

Aiden offered a crooked smile. "Let them see confidence. If they sense fear, they'll devour you."

The grand exhibition hall was alive with color and chatter. Silks and perfumes drifted like dreams. The noble class sparkled in their finery.

"Mira Everen, founder of Mily," the herald announced.

Lily stepped forward, graceful and silent, flanked by Michelle and Aiden.

"Is that her? She's younger than I thought."

"Such grace... almost royal."

Lily kept walking.

Near the center of the hall, the Crown Princess stood surrounded by courtiers. Her laughter was too sweet, her eyes too sharp.

Lily's heart clenched.

"Seraphina," the imposter whispered when she passed by, so low no one else heard.

Lily didn't falter. She didn't look back. She only smiled softly and kept walking.

"She didn't react," the false princess murmured, watching her.

Michelle whispered to Lily once they passed. "Did she say your name?"

"Yes. But it doesn't matter. Not tonight."

The lights dimmed. The music began. And Mily's models walked the crimson runway, adorned in silks that shimmered like flame, gold threads catching the light. Gasps echoed around the room.

A noblewoman leaned to her companion. "This... this is art."

One of the judges stood. "Who is the designer of this collection?"

Lily stepped forward, head high.

"I am Mira Everen," she said with steady poise. "One of the Founders of Mily and designer of this showcase."

"These designs... they feel like they carry history."

"Inspiration can come from anywhere," Lily said. "But roots are always deeper than they appear."

A round of polite applause followed. One man stepped forward, an older noble with a deep voice.

"What does the phoenix represent to you?"

Lily's eyes gleamed. "Endings. And beginnings."

After the showcase, a woman in pale silver approached. Her voice was soft. Too soft.

"Lady Everen. We've met before, haven't we?"

Lily tilted her head. "I don't believe so. Perhaps in another life."

Michelle quickly stepped in. "We must excuse ourselves. There's another presentation in the east wing."

"Of course," the woman said, watching them go with narrowed eyes.

Back at Mily's headquarters, they collapsed into chairs in Lily's office.

"You did it," Michelle said, breathless. "They loved it."

"Too much," Aiden added. "We've earned their praise, but also their curiosity."

Lily removed her gloves and looked at the fading ink of the palace stamp on the invitation.

"They're watching us now. We bought time — but not safety."

"So what next?" Michelle asked.

Lily's gaze hardened. "We build faster. We rise higher. And when they finally realize who I am..."

She smiled faintly.

"It'll already be too late."