“Ms. Sterling, I meant no disrespect. I simply believe it’s undignified to use Miss Scott’s design on a dog.”

“What’s wrong with accessorizing my dog?” Olivia interrupted sharply. “He’s my companion, and I’ll adorn him as I wish. Perhaps, Miss Tremblay, you should focus more on refining your own designs rather than criticizing my preferences.”

Olivia’s commanding tone left Zoe momentarily silenced.

Zoe bit her lower lip, her gaze shifting toward Isabella, a storm of conflicting emotions swirling in her eyes.

Isabella, who had been quietly observing the exchange, allowed a subtle, knowing smile to touch her lips.

When Zoe moved to take the seat beside her, her voice carried a sharp, icy edge.

“It’s been a while, Serena.”

Isabella turned her head, meeting Zoe’s intense stare with a calm, steady one of her own.

“Indeed, it has.”

The air between them grew thick with unspoken tension.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Zoe remarked, her tone dripping with thinly veiled envy.

Isabella’s smile remained faint yet radiated quiet confidence.

“I was invited.”

“Hmph!” Zoe scoffed, bitterness lacing her voice. “It seems you’ve been thriving since returning to Switzerland.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Isabella responded, her posture composed and unshakable.

Zoe watched Isabella’s serene demeanor, feeling her own resentment intensify.

“Serena, don’t think one success gives you a permanent advantage. We’ll see how long it lasts.”

Isabella raised a cool eyebrow, her tone even.

“I’m always prepared.”

Outwardly, she maintained her composure, but internally, Isabella felt a familiar tension coiling within her.

The banquet transitioned into an elegant buffet-style dinner beneath the glittering chandeliers.

Sophisticated guests mingled, crystal glasses clinked, and the rich aroma of gourmet cuisine filled the air. Yet beneath the polished surface, a subtle undercurrent of rivalry and tension simmered.

Zoe moved through the crowd with a champagne flute, engaging various designers with a charming smile, all while subtly undermining Isabella’s work.

“Isabella’s designs are quite avant-garde, not really in line with current commercial trends,” she commented with a feigned sigh, her smugness poorly concealed.

“True, an excessive focus on artistic expression often sacrifices wearability,” one designer agreed, his eyes flashing with envy.

Another added in a hushed tone, “I heard there were rumors of plagiarism in her recent collection, but who knows what’s true?”

From a distance, Isabella watched the scene unfold, recognizing Zoe’s familiar tactics of isolation and character assassination.

“Isabella, why are you standing here alone?” Lucas approached, plate in hand, genuine concern in his eyes.

Isabella managed a faint smile. “I just needed a moment to breathe.”

Following her gaze, Lucas quickly understood the situation.

He leaned closer, his voice a low whisper. “Ignore them. They’re just spreading gossip.”

Isabella simply shook her head, choosing silence over confrontation.

Meanwhile, a man in a sharp tailored suit approached Zoe, presenting her with a business card.

“Miss Tremblay, hello. I’m an editor from Vogue magazine. I’ve long admired your work and would love to discuss a potential collaboration.”