Reclaimed By My Ex-husband
Chapter 92: The fashion show (Part-2)

Chapter 92: The fashion show (Part-2)

Riya smoothed her irritation over with a dazzling, artificial smile as she strode toward her designated corner. The makeup artist immediately got to work, brushing across her face with swift, expert strokes. Beside her, Shay Walsh’s assistant stood patiently, holding the exquisite gown.

Riya kept her chin lifted high, deliberately ignoring the assistant’s presence. Her gaze shifted to the mirror, silently observing her reflection as the makeup artist worked.

From across the room, Bree watched with a raised eyebrow. She strode over to Zara and leaned in to whisper, "I can’t stand her. I’m just waiting for that inflated ego of hers to stumble right off the runway."

"Don’t pay attention to her," Zara said quietly as she kept her focus firmly on her work.

After some time, Zara finished adjusting the hem of the first model’s dress.

It was a delicate ensemble made of soft, flowing organza. The fabric shimmered with every movement in a way that made the entire piece seem alive.

The model turned to walk toward the entrance to line up for the opening walk. But before she could take more than a few steps, Riya, casually strolling by with a bottle of water in hand and intentionally stepped right onto the trailing skirt.

A sound of a sharp rip echoed in the air.

The model froze mid-step, her face pale. A jagged tear had split the lower part of the gown, ruining it entirely.

"Oh my God!" Riya gasped, eyes widening in mock shock. "I didn’t notice it. I’m so, so sorry." She placed a hand on her chest dramatically, pretending it had been a mistake.

Zara hurried over, her gaze falling to the torn fabric.

"Oh no," Bree burst out. "What have you done?" She shot Riya a sharp glare.

"I really am sorry," Riya said, putting on a pitiful expression. "I didn’t see it." She turned to Zara, taking her hand. "Zara, please believe me. I didn’t do it on purpose."

Zara stood frozen, her mind spinning. That dress was meant to open her collection. Her hopes had rested on it. And now it was ruined, and time was slipping away. The competition was minutes from starting.

Frustration surged through her, burning in her throat. When she finally looked up at Riya, her expression hardened. She could see right through her act. Riya had done it deliberately—just to sabotage her.

"It’s torn badly," Bree muttered, crouching down to inspect the damage. "I don’t even know if I can fix this in time..."

Riya sneered inwardly, a wave of satisfaction settling in her chest. But she hid her joy under the mask of a mock sympathy. "Oh no, that’s such a shame. But Zara..." She placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You are a designer. You can fix it, right? Just be patient—and, well, fix it quickly before the event starts."

With that, she walked away, ready for the event, a triumphant glint in her eyes. ’Let’s see how well you recover from that.’

Behind her, Zara exhaled sharply, grabbing pins and scissors, calling over Bree and the stylist. "We don’t have a choice," she said. "We are fixing this now. Fast."

The music began to thrum through the walls. A hush fell over the crew as the lights beyond the curtain blazed to life.

Bree stood frozen for a second, clutching the torn fabric. "Zara, what do we do? We can’t stitch this in five minutes. There is no time. We can’t display this dress."

Zara, kneeling beside the dress, glanced up with surprising calm. "We don’t have to finish in five minutes. This won’t be the first dress on the ramp anymore."

Bree blinked. "What?"

"We’ll move it to the end," Zara said, already pulling thread through the needle. "That gives us at least twenty minutes. More than enough to fix it. Breathe, Bree. And help, fast..."

Bree exhaled and nodded. "Right. Okay. Let’s do it."

They bent over the fabric together, working quickly as adrenaline kicked in. The rip was bad, but fixable, and Zara had already started improvising a way to incorporate the tear into a new, dramatic drape that would just elevate the design.

Meanwhile, at the front of the line, Riya stood tall and proud, hands on her hips, exuding an air of self-importance. Her dress—a sleek, glittering masterpiece, hugged her figure perfectly. Her makeup was flawless. She looked gorgeous.

"And now, presenting the stunning showstopper, featuring the signature collection of Shay Walsh," the announcer’s voice boomed through the venue.

The curtains parted.

Riya stepped onto the runway with poised elegance, her stride measured and powerful.

Cameras flashed. The audience gasped softly. The applause echoed faintly through the backstage walls, but Zara’s hands didn’t stop for a moment.

"Pin it there," she said to Bree. "We’ll twist the fabric and run it diagonally."

Bree followed every instruction. "Zara... this might actually turn out better than the original." She grinned, her nervousness easing.

Even the model agreed with her. "It is. It’ll leave a mark no one expects."

Zara’s heart leaped when the announcer’s voice rang out, "Presenting the next collection by emerging designer... Zara Grant."

Zara froze for a second, needle still in hand, thread hanging loosely between her fingers.

"It’s time," Bree whispered urgently, glancing toward the curtain where the first of their models was already stepping into the spotlight.

One by one, the models wearing Zara’s designs began to glide out onto the ramp.

But she wasn’t watching. Her focus was locked on the final dress. With a final pin twist and tug, she stepped back. The model stood before her, dressed, nervous, but glowing.

"You look beautiful," Zara said breathlessly. "Now walk like you own the night."

The model nodded, straightened her back, and turned. Zara clasped her fingers as she watched the model step out into the lights, her gown swirling perfectly. The crowd clapped.

Zara peeked from backstage, her eyes wide, heart trembling.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the designer herself—Zara Grant."

Bree clutched her shoulders. "Go...It’s your night."

Zara exhaled and stepped out onto the runway, her heart pounding. The moment the light hit her, and she saw the crowd smiling, clapping wildly, something inside her soared. She bowed low, blinking back tears of disbelief and gratitude, then straightened up, her face flushed with joy.

She stood among the models, holding their hands tightly while the cameras kept flashing around them.

When she returned backstage, Bree was already running toward her.

"You did it," Bree exclaimed.

Zara threw her arms around her. "We did it," she whispered. "Thank you. I couldn’t have done this without you."

Behind them, models were cheering, and staff were clapping, congratulating her.

"The dress looked flawless," someone said. "It didn’t look like it was ruined just a few minutes ago."

"Yes," another one chimed in. "It shows how good a designer you are. Congratulations."

Riya’s face twisted in annoyance when she watched almost everyone cheering Zara. Her carefully planted sabotage had failed.

’You may have managed this time,’ she thought bitterly, ’but you won’t be smiling for long. I still have one move left. And this time, you won’t be walking away so easily.’