Lance gently straightened the reporter’s microphone, his poise unshaken.
The young reporter blushed, but before she could compose herself, Lance answered openly, “Yes, Joanna is my one and only muse. Every single collection I’ve designed has been inspired by her.”
The room fell silent, tension rippling through the crowd.
Even the event organizers rushed to redirect their cameras, broadcasting Lance’s words live to an audience that swelled by the second.
Lance remained calm and composed, smiling softly at the lens. “I’ll admit–I’m selfish. I only ever want to see Joanna wear my gowns. That’s why, in the month leading up to this awards ceremony, my label turned down several requests from other celebrities.”
He paused, gaze unwavering. “To be completely frank, if I were to see anyone else wearing my designs tonight, I’d feel it was an insult to my work–and a sign of disrespect to Joanna herself.”
He wore a coat that perfectly matched Joanna’s dress, his demeanor refined yet understated. His voice was gentle, almost soothing, but when his eyes met Joanna’s, there was a flicker of emotion–restrained, but unmistakable.
The live feed sent viewers into a frenzy.
“Oh my god! I officially ship Lance & Joanna!”
“A–list actress and devoted designer–my heart can’t take it!”
“I dare anyone to show up in a Blake original tonight. Just try it!”
“Wait, didn’t Designer Blake shade Mirabelle on Instagram the other day? Was that because their studios couldn’t reach an agreement?”
“If that’s the case, Mirabelle’s team is seriously out of line.”
Joanna’s eyes sparkled with a knowing glint. After exchanging a ‘ ‘ with Lance, her cool facade melted into genuine admiration.
She had always preferred the company of clever people, and Lance had just, with a few deft words, not only quashed all gossip about his supposed feud with Mirabelle, but also set a clever trap for her possible appearance later.
Brilliant.
19:49
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For the rest of the reporters‘ baiting questions, Lance simply smiled and
sidestepped. “Joanna and I are just good friends. I hope you’ll focus on her outstanding body of work.”
Joanna, her arm linked through his, chimed in gracefully, “Lance is a dear friend of mine.”
Lance’s public declaration sent Instagram into overdrive. Viewership of the live broadcast hit record highs.
Meanwhile, eagle–eyed fans noticed something odd–Mirabelle’s studio hadn’t released any official photos of her red–carpet look.
Speculation that had swirled around Mirabelle now hardened into certainty.
“If Mirabelle doesn’t have a dress to wear, she should just stay home–don’t embarrass yourself by stealing Joanna’s!”
“I figured it out. Mirabelle isn’t just bad at picking boyfriends, her character stinks!”
“Some people were even betting she’d win Best Actress tonight. If a thief gets that trophy, it’s a total sham!”
“Hey, I’m just a bystander, but Joanna’s fans, can you chill? Mirabelle’s acting is incredible! This is an acting competition, not a beauty pageant.”
“Oh, you admit Joanna’s prettier then? Sorry, but our girl won Best Actress at twenty–four–try topping that!”
The red carpet hadn’t even started, and already the internet was aflame with attacks on Mirabelle.
By the time Mirabelle’s fans jumped in, Joanna’s supporters had already taken control of the narrative. Arguments erupted everywhere, while the rest of the public watched the spectacle unfold, waiting for Mirabelle’s side to respond.
It seemed that the moment Mirabelle appeared on the red carpet, every old rumor and scandal would be dragged out for the world to see.
Celestine locked her phone, brows drawn tight with worry.
No matter what Mirabelle did–whether she spoke up or stayed silent–it would be twisted and used against her.
Joanna’s playbook was ruthless.
