That night, at exactly 7pm, Zara and Bertha arrived at the venue, which was a 30 minute drive from Bertha's apartment. .
Zara looked elegant in a chic black dress that flowed down to her heels and was slit on one side at the knees. Her hair was packed in a bun and her makeup was neatly done, highlighting simple beauty.
Bertha on the other hand wore a green pantsuit for the night. She hadn't given much thought to how she looked, as she had spent most of her time making Zara look good.
The modelling event centre was a towering structure, with a gleaming glass exterior that reflected the city lights. It had a stylish awning that bore its logo, a red phoenix, and a red carpet that led straight inside.
But Zara and Bertha were not going to be using this entrance as Bertha didn't usually like the attention that came with the red carpet.
They went round back, entering the building through a backstage entrance Bertha had access to.
The backstage itself was a hive of activity, with makeup artists, hair stylists and designers all working together to ensure the models looked their best.
Zara had never seen so many people invested in one goal before, apart from the time when her family worked together to get rid of her.
Oh wait, that was just yesterday.
"Just hang around a bit. I need to speak with some models to ensure they are comfortable with the designs I made. I'll be back in five."
And just like that, Bertha was gone, leaving Zara to awkwardly drink in the tumult all around her.
People gave her awkward glances, seemingly recognizing the cheating heiress from the news. But Zara already knew this would happen when she agreed to come out to a public space, so she didn't give it much thought.
There was one person, however, whose gaze lingered a bit too long. Zara noticed his ice cold stare from her peripheral vision, but as soon as she turned to look his way, he was gone, blending it with the droves of people that went about their business backstage.
Zara began to feel at unease, but luckily, Bertha arrived.
"So you just stood there all this while?"
"What did you expect me to do? Socialize?"
Bertha sighed.
"You're just a whole package aren't you? Come along, let's get to the main event."
Bertha pulled after her, and in a swift motion, they had left the backstage area.
In the void of their presence, there was a hiss of static, and a perfectly concealed comm fizzled to life in the ear of a man in his thirties.
"The targets are heading starboard, to the main event. Permission to follow?"
A digital voice sounded in his ears.
"Permission granted."
The man stopped the connection. With a full beard, perfectly combed hair and a hair kit hung over his shoulder, anyone that saw him would've easily mistaken him for a hair stylist.
In fluid motion, he took a few glances around to ensure nobody was suspicious of him, or even worse, following him.
And just like that, one minute he was standing there, the next minute he was gone.
***
"And may we welcome Delilah Hawkins for her runway show."
A tall, slender woman emerged from behind the curtains.
She wore a pink tutu adorned with rhinestones, and a cream feather boa was draped around her neck in elegant, stylistic fashion.
Dark shades rested on her face, reflecting the spotlight with every step she took.
But the most striking feature was her face itself—stoic, composed, and untouched by emotion. A pure canvas of beauty.
She cat-walked down the runway, stopping at the end to twirl, wave to the crowd, and blow a kiss, before turning and strutting confidently back.
Zara instantly liked her.
She had been enjoying the show so far, though a few thoughts still lingered beneath the surface.
Coming here was supposed to be a break—a way to put the chaos of her family incident behind her. But flashes of that night still crept into her mind like distant thunder.
The models gliding across the stage should've been enough to distract her.
The flashing lights, the hum of music, the buzz of conversation, and the roar of cheers from the crowd created a storm of activity that was hard to ignore. Still, Zara found herself lost in thought.
"Hey, you okay?" Bertha asked, snapping her out of it.
Zara blinked and offered a forced smile. "Yeah. Just a little... distracted."
Bertha gave her a look but didn't press further.
More models paraded down the runway in pieces that looked like they belonged on the cover of a high-fashion magazine.
Zara's gaze shifted between them, her admiration flickering to life even if only for a moment.
Then, the announcer's voice cut through the buzz of the crowd.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, his tone theatrical and full of flair, "I hope you're ready for something truly special!"
Zara turned toward the stage as the atmosphere shifted. The crowd's excitement swelled.
"With us tonight is a very special designer whose creations have graced celebrity red carpets and fashion weeks alike!"
The announcer quickly turned to Bertha, who blushed uncontrollably.
"A round of applause for Drew's Couture, represented by the brilliant entrepreneur herself, Bertha Drew!"
The cameras swung toward Bertha. She stood up, offering a humble wave as the sound of hundreds—maybe thousands—of clapping hands echoed through the hall.
Zara felt a rush of pride swell in her chest.
"She has designed for movie stars, fashion icons, supermodels—you name it!
And tonight, we want to specially honor her work. In this celebrity segment, multiple stars will take to the runway, each wearing one of her most iconic pieces."
Zara turned to Bertha, raising a curious eyebrow.
"I never knew you were such a big shot."
"How would you?" Bertha teased, "You never show any interest in my work."
"In my defense, I had a father who made sure I spent every waking breath in his bank."
They both laughed, their eyes drifting back to the runway, where now a stream of familiar faces appeared: TV stars, movie icons, philanthropic CEOs, even decorated athletes.
All of them were wearing Bertha's designs.
The speakers gave a soft whistle as the announcer reconnected to his mic.
"And now," he said with growing excitement, "our celebrity designer has saved two very special pieces—masterpieces—for tonight.
And they'll be unveiled on two very special guests."
The crowd erupted in applause once more, and Zara joined them, clapping enthusiastically.
But when she turned to Bertha, expecting her to be glowing with joy, she was met instead with a look of confusion.