Chapter 44: The Gala Invitation

Two days later, Greendale woke to a headline that rippled through every design circle in the city.

Knight Enterprises Announces Collaboration with Rona Design for the Maxine Yearly Design Portfolio.

The announcement spread like wildfire across business channels and social media. The Maxine Portfolio was one of the most prestigious showcases in the fashion world—an annual event where the top design houses presented their best creations of the year. The ten most outstanding designs would be published in Maxine Magazine, a global authority in luxury fashion.

This year, Knight Enterprises had secured the contract to represent Greendale’s corporate sector. And to everyone’s astonishment, they had chosen Rona Design as their creative partner.

Even more shocking was the name listed as Rona Design’s chief designer.

Missy Hawthorne.

The same Missy who had been publicly exposed for stealing designs only weeks ago.

The same Missy whose reputation had crumbled before millions of viewers.

The same Missy who had cried her way through a carefully crafted apology.

Now, she was back—front and center—under the protection of Knight Enterprises.

Inside the Knight boardroom, the decision had not come easily. The shareholders had been furious. They had argued, protested, and demanded explanations. But Layton Knight had stood firm. He had assured them that personal feelings would never cloud his judgment. That this was a strategic move to stabilize Rona Design’s market value and protect Knight Enterprises’ investment portfolio.

The board had reluctantly agreed.

After all, Layton Knight was known for his cold precision. He never made emotional decisions.

Or so they believed.

Behind the scenes, Layton had already assembled a team of designers for Missy to lead. The project deadline was one month. The pressure was immense. The stakes were higher than ever.

And the whispers had already begun.

When Ana called that morning, her voice was sharp enough to cut glass.

"Mindy! Did you see the news?"

Mindy was sitting in her studio, sketching quietly, when the phone buzzed. Layla and Wade were nearby, reviewing fabric samples.

Ana didn’t wait for an answer. "They both are despicable! Even after everything—after she stole your designs, after she humiliated you—Layton still helped her! They’re really made for each other."

Layla looked up from her tablet, her expression dark. "We saw it too."

Mindy set her pencil down, her tone calm but edged with irony. "I didn’t expect him to help her so openly. But that’s Missy’s charm, isn’t it? She can manipulate anyone."

Layla nodded. "He loves her. He can’t see her in trouble."

Ana scoffed. "Love? Please. This is nothing but whitewashing. He’s trying to clean her image through Knight Enterprises. It’s disgusting."

Mindy didn’t respond immediately. She simply leaned back in her chair, her gaze distant.

Whitewashing.

Yes, that was exactly what it was.

Layton Knight, the man who once prided himself on logic and restraint, was now risking his company’s reputation to protect the woman who had destroyed hers.

And somehow, that didn’t surprise her anymore.

Ana’s voice softened slightly. "By the way, is LUXT participating in the Maxine Portfolio this year?"

Layla sighed. "We were planning to, but entering as an independent company is risky. We’d need significant funding and connections. Maxine doesn’t just accept anyone."

Wade looked up from his laptop. "I can help with that. I know a few investors who—"

Mindy shook her head before he could finish. "No. We need more than money. We need experience. Maxine isn’t like a competition. It’s a global showcase. We can’t walk in as newcomers. We need a company that’s already familiar with the process—someone who’s been part of the magazine’s tenders before."

Layla frowned. "And where are we supposed to find that?"

Mindy didn’t answer immediately. Her gaze drifted toward the window, where sunlight spilled across the city skyline. A thought flickered in her mind—one that made her pulse quicken.

There was one person who could open that door.

One man whose name carried enough weight to silence every critic in the industry.

Matthias King

The name alone carried power. In Greendale’s business world, it was spoken with a mix of awe and unease. He was the founder of Zeus Vision, a conglomerate that dominated fashion exports, entertainment, and luxury design. Officially, Zeus Vision was a creative powerhouse with branches across multiple states. Unofficially, it was whispered that Matthias controlled the largest underground black market in the country.

He was a man people respected in public and feared in private.

Born in Ritol City, Matthias had inherited nothing but his mother’s name and his father’s disdain. His mother had taken her own life when he was a teenager, and his father had remarried soon after. The new wife brought with her a son—a half‑brother who would later become Matthias’s greatest rival.

But what the world remembered most about Matthias King wasn’t his empire. It was his face.

A burn mark stretched from his right eyebrow to his cheek, a jagged scar that fire had carved into his skin years ago. The wound had healed, but not cleanly. The skin was uneven, discolored, a reminder of agony that never faded. He covered it with a silver mask that gleamed under light, hiding the right side of his face from the world.

People whispered that the mask made him look more terrifying.

That he wore it to intimidate.

That he was a monster who hid behind metal.

The truth was simpler—and crueler.

No one liked to see his face.

People flinched when they did.

Even those who owed him their fortunes avoided his gaze.

Though he was rich beyond measure, no woman wanted to get close to him. They smiled politely, then turned away. Some said he was cursed. Others said he was dangerous.

Mindy knew better.

In her past life, she had met Matthias King once, she had heard the rumors. He was brilliant, ruthless, untouchable. Until the night everything changed.

His death had been painful.

He had been burned alive in a fire that consumed his private estate.

The investigation called it an accident.

But Mindy had learned later that it was no accident at all.

It had been planned—by his half‑brother—to seize control of the King Empire.

The thought of it still made her chest tighten.

Because Matthias King had been the only person who had ever helped her.

The Memory of Arington House

Her mind drifted back to that night—her third wedding anniversary.

Layton had promised to come home early. He had even smiled faintly that morning, a rare gesture that had filled her with fragile hope. She had spent the day preparing dinner, setting the table, waiting for him.

But as the hours passed, her calls went unanswered.

By evening, she had called him more than twenty times. Each one went to voicemail.

Then her phone buzzed.

A message from Missy.

A series of photos appeared on the screen—Missy in a glittering gown, standing beside Layton at an auction. The caption read: "Sister, you should’ve come. It’s such a beautiful night."

Mindy’s heart clenched. She recognized the background instantly.

Arington House.

The private estate was famous for its art auctions and exclusive gatherings. Only the elite were invited. Layton hadn’t mentioned it once.

She didn’t think. She just went.

The estate was enormous, guarded by tall iron gates and manicured hedges. She slipped in through a side entrance, her heels clicking softly against the marble path. The sound of laughter and music drifted from the main hall.

She found them near the terrace—Layton and Missy, surrounded by a small group of investors. Missy’s hand rested lightly on Layton’s arm as she laughed at something he said. The sight made Mindy’s stomach twist.

Missy noticed her first. Their eyes met across the crowd.

Missy’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk.

She leaned toward Layton and whispered something.

Then, softly, she said aloud, "Sister is here."

Layton turned. His expression hardened the moment he saw Mindy. He excused himself from the group and walked toward her, Missy following close behind, her smile sweet and poisonous.

They stopped near the pool, away from the others. The night air was cool, the water reflecting the golden lights of the estate.

Layton’s voice was low, sharp. "Why are you here?"

"I called you so many times," Mindy said, her voice trembling. "You didn’t pick up. Do you even know what today is?"

He scoffed. "I don’t care."

The words hit harder than any slap.

He turned to leave, his expression cold. "You’re becoming like a jealous shrew, Mindy. Stalking me now?"

Her throat tightened. "I just wanted to see you. It’s our anniversary."

He didn’t even pause. "Go home."

He started walking back toward the party.

Missy lingered behind, her eyes glinting with amusement. She stepped closer, her tone soft and pitiful. "Sister, you shouldn’t have come. Today is very important for Layton."

Then she smiled—a cruel, perfect smile—and grabbed Mindy’s wrist.

"SISTER, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!" she screamed suddenly, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear.

Before Mindy could react, Missy shoved her forward. Both of them toppled into the pool.

The cold water swallowed her scream. She surfaced, gasping, her hair plastered to her face. Missy was already thrashing dramatically, crying out, "Layton! Help me!"

Layton turned, eyes wide. He saw both of them struggling in the water.

And he jumped in—straight toward Missy.

Mindy’s heart stopped.

She was right there, only a few feet away, reaching out, calling his name.

"Layton! Layton!"

He didn’t look at her.

He didn’t hear her.

He pulled Missy into his arms, holding her close, murmuring reassurances.

Mindy’s strength gave out. The water closed over her head. The world went dark.

Then, suddenly, strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her upward. She broke the surface, coughing, gasping for air.

A deep voice spoke beside her. "Easy. You’re safe."

She blinked through the water in her eyes. A man stood beside her, tall, broad‑shouldered, his right cheek hidden behind a gleaming silver mask. The left side of his face was striking—sharp jawline, dark eyes, expression calm and unreadable. The mask caught the light, reflecting the ripples of the pool.

He lifted her gently onto the deck. "Get her a towel," he said to someone behind him.

An assistant hurried forward, draping a towel around her shoulders.

Mindy looked up at him, breathless. The mask didn’t frighten her. The faint burn marks visible beneath it didn’t repulse her. She saw only exhaustion in his eyes, and something else—loneliness.

He noticed her gaze and hesitated, as if waiting for the usual reaction: fear, pity, disgust.

But she only whispered, "Thank you."

His expression shifted, almost imperceptibly. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head. "No. Just... cold."

He extended a gloved hand to help her stand. She took it without hesitation.

For a moment, their eyes met. Something unspoken passed between them—recognition, perhaps, or understanding.

Then he released her hand and stepped back. "Be careful next time."

She nodded, still trembling. "I will."

He turned away, his assistant following. The silver mask caught the light one last time before he disappeared into the crowd.

Mindy stood there, dripping and silent, watching as Layton fussed over Missy on the other side of the pool. He didn’t even glance her way.

Later, he would offer a cold, half‑hearted excuse. Something about misunderstandings and appearances. She hadn’t argued. She hadn’t mentioned the man who had saved her.

But she never forgot him.

Matthias King.

The man everyone feared.

The man no one dared to approach.

The man who had saved her life when her own husband had let her drown.

The Gala and the Fire

Back in the present, Mindy’s fingers tightened around her pen as the memory faded.

In her previous life, the Maxine Magazine Charity Gala had ended in chaos. A fight had broken out between a local gang and Matthias King’s men. The attack had been planned, deliberate, and brutal. The target was Matthias himself.

He had been shot that night. The bullet had missed his heart by inches, but the damage was severe. He had fallen into a coma that lasted months.

When he finally woke, Zeus Vision was no longer the empire it once was. Competitors had seized contracts, investors had withdrawn, and his company’s reputation had crumbled. Within two years, Zeus Vision had lost its footing entirely.

And then came the fire.

The official report called it an accident—faulty wiring in the main estate. But Mindy knew better. The fire had been set. His half‑brother had finished what the gunmen couldn’t.

Matthias King had burned to death in his own home.

The image haunted her—the man with the silver mask, the one who had pulled her from the water, dying in flames while the world turned away.

This time, she would not let it happen.

This time, she would be there.

This time, she would save him.

Section 6 – The Plan

"Mindy?" Layla’s voice pulled her back to the present.

Mindy blinked, realizing she had been staring at the same sketch for several minutes. Layla and Wade were both watching her curiously.

"What’s wrong?" Wade asked.

Mindy straightened, her expression calm but resolute. "We need an invitation to the Maxine Magazine Charity Gala this Friday."

Both of them blinked.

"The gala?" Layla repeated. "Why?"

Mindy didn’t look up. She flipped a page, her pencil moving again with quiet precision. "It’s important."

Wade leaned back in his chair, studying her. "That’s not an easy event to get into. The guest list is locked weeks in advance. Only corporate heads, investors, and old‑money families get in."

"We need to find a way," Mindy said simply.

Layla frowned. "You’re not going to tell us why, are you?"

Mindy’s lips curved faintly, but she didn’t answer.

Wade exchanged a glance with Layla. "You already have a plan, don’t you?"

Her pencil paused for a moment, then continued moving. "Something like that."

Layla sighed. "You’re impossible."

"Maybe," Mindy murmured.

Wade chuckled softly. "All right. I’ll see what I can do. But you owe me an explanation later."

Mindy finally looked up, her expression unreadable. "Maybe."

They both knew that was all they were going to get.

Layla leaned back, shaking her head. "You’re hiding something."

Mindy smiled faintly. "I’m preparing for something."

Neither of them pressed further. They had learned long ago that when Mindy Wilson decided to keep a secret, no amount of questioning could pry it out of her.

Still, as Wade opened his laptop to start making calls, both he and Layla exchanged a silent look.

Whatever Mindy was planning, it wasn’t small.

And she wasn’t telling anyone.

Preparation

That night, as the city lights flickered beyond her window, Mindy sat alone, her thoughts steady and sharp.

Years ago, Jasper Wilson—her grandfather, her mentor—had insisted that both she and Wade learn martial arts. "Talent is useless if you can’t protect yourself," he had said.

Wade had taken it further, learning firearms from one of the best instructors in the country. Later, he had taught her everything he knew. At first, she had hated it—the weight of the gun, the sound of the shot—but she had learned. And she had discovered she was good at it. Very good.

Her aim was steady. Her reflexes sharp. She didn’t just learn how to shoot—she learned how to think, how to move, how to stay calm under pressure.

Between Jasper’s insistence on discipline and Wade’s lessons in defense, both of them had become more than designers.

They were protectors.

And Mindy, though she rarely showed it, was one of the best.

She opened her laptop, pulling up the floor plan of the Grand Aurelia Hotel—the venue for the gala. She studied every detail: the ballroom layout, the exits, the security checkpoints, the timing of the speeches.

Every move would matter.

Every second could change everything.

She traced the map with her fingertip, her expression calm, her heart steady.

"This time," she whispered, "I’ll save him."

The city lights reflected in her eyes, bright and unyielding.

And somewhere in the distance, the faint echo of a promise lingered—the memory of a man with a silver mask, offering his hand to pull her from the water.

This time, she would be the one reaching out.