A radiant smile spread across Zoe's face as she accepted the card.

“That sounds absolutely perfect.”

She then cast a deliberately challenging glance toward Isabella, clearly showcasing her own triumph.

Isabella fought to maintain her composure, the evening's weight pressing down on her. The banquet carried on, but a palpable tension hummed just beneath the polished surface.

“Serena, it’s been far too long,” a slimy voice hissed far too close to her ear.

Isabella turned to face a middle-aged man who was leering at her openly.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t believe we’ve met,” she stated, her tone icy.

“Oh, don’t be like that. I’m the CEO of Berkshire Hathaway, and I’m a huge admirer of your work,” the man said, his hand moving to grasp hers. Isabella jerked her hand back instantly, her expression turning stormy.

“Keep your hands to yourself.”

The man let out a derisive snort.

“A bit touchy, aren’t we? Do you have any idea who you’re speaking to? Cross me, and your little career is finished.”

“Is that a fact?” a cool, controlled voice interjected.

Ethan had appeared silently, his glacial stare freezing the man in place.

“Mr. Blackwood…” The man’s face went ashen.

“Get out,” Ethan commanded, his voice flat and devoid of emotion.

The man practically tripped over himself in his haste to flee.

Ethan turned to Isabella, his demeanor softening slightly.

“Are you hurt?”

Isabella shook her head, offering a quiet thanks.

“I’m fine. Thank you.”

Ethan’s gaze then shifted to Zoe, who was watching them from a short distance away, his expression becoming utterly unreadable.

As the event drew to a close and guests began their departures, Zoe slipped up beside Isabella, a cold smirk twisting her lips.

“Serena, we’ll see who truly wins in the end.”

Isabella met her gaze without a hint of fear.

“I’ll be waiting.”

The grand hall emptied. Isabella politely declined Lucas’s offer of a ride, choosing to stand alone outside the hotel entrance.

Her phone vibrated incessantly—a flood of unread messages from elite jewelry houses, all clamoring for a collaboration.

The spectacular success of her “Dewy Hibiscus” collection had flung open doors she never thought possible.

The next day was a relentless marathon of business meetings for Isabella.

“Miss Scott, we find your design ethos truly remarkable,” a representative from Bulgari, an impeccably dressed woman, praised. “However, we would require certain modifications to the ‘Dewy Hibiscus’ line to better align with our brand identity and mainstream commercial appeal.”

Isabella’s brow furrowed slightly.

“Modifications? Could you elaborate on what specific changes you envision?”

“For instance, simplifying some of the more intricate details and incorporating elements with broader market appeal,” the woman replied smoothly. “A balance must be struck between artistry and commerce, don’t you agree?”

Isabella’s fingers tightened almost imperceptibly on her design portfolio. Further revisions would mean diluting her original artistic vision.