Page 98 of Never Been Worse

Right then I know even if this plan of ours doesn’t work, even if it fails miserably and takes my career with it, at the very least, I know this entire mess brought me the best thing I could ever ask for.

The dress I’m wearing is inspired by Princess Diana’s iconic revenge dress circa 1994, and I’ve never felt more powerful in my life. Both dresses are inspired by the princess herself, mine and Willa Stone’s.

Yes, international pop star Willa Stone is heading into theNational Music Awardswearing a dressIcreated, helping to announce my very first fashion line before she probably wins a dozen awards and announces her newest upcoming album.

The last two weeks have been an absolute whirlwind of emotions.

Just days after I attempted to break up with Wes, I was in a meeting with Willa and her entire team, telling them about my idea for mid-price pieces inspired by pieces their favorite celebrities have worn. She was all in on the idea and we started fitting her for it almost immediately. I’m also working on a full proposal for outfits for her next tour.

The day after that, Wes and I met with the private investigator he hired as well as two of the band’s lawyers. The PI brought all of the information we needed about kickbacks Jeremy was receiving as well as a few instances he found of Astor Fashion designs that had been leaked to other fashion houses.

Turns out, Jeremy was the source of those leaks and was handsomely paid for his work. That information has been shared with Astor, and from what I understand, he’s going to be getting some really bad news today, probably around the time I step foot onto the red carpet with Willa.

“Are you ready for this?” Willa asks, her smile wild as she turns to me.

She’s stunning, as always, her blonde hair pulled away from her face and tucked behind her ears before tumbling down her back. The couture gown I made for her is glinting in the backstage lights just as I hoped, catching and reflecting every ray. I know when she steps out in front of a dozen cameras, flashes going crazy, it will look absolutelyradiant.

It’s completely bedazzled and glittering, a deep emerald green with a snakeskin pattern across her hips and stomach with a long train blooming out behind her, the tips of it red, the color associated with her most recent album.

It’s like a snake shedding its skin, a rebirth, she called it, the end of her previous album’s era and stepping into a new one. She always does it effortlessly and beautifully, and each time her fans eat it up.

And at this award show, she’s going to do it again, this time wearing my design as a part of that announcement.

My hands shake, my fingers moving to the straps of my own dress, the off-the-shoulders sleeves and sweetheart bustline the same as on hers, but it’s more low-key and is missing the train.

I don’t know how we pulled it off. There were alotof calls and even more talks with lawyers and professionals to make sure that doing this wouldn’t result in a worst-case scenario, but I learned a lot in the past two weeks.

For example, most of the threats Jeremy was holding over me would probably never come to fruition, like his reopening the case and charging Ava and Jules. He was hoping my fear and my previous hesitance to tiptoe into something scary would stop me from acting, from speaking my truth.

But mostly, that I am strong, I am talented, and I have a killer fucking support system.

My fingers move to my neck, making sure the golden W is centered. I smile at the comfort of having a piece of Wes here with me when I need to calm myself just a bit.

I finally turn my attention to Willa and nod. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” I say before looking across the room to where her publicist stands.

Leo is actually my publicist now, too, since he agreed to take on me and my fashion business when I asked him, telling me ittook me long enoughto finally ask him. He winks at me, or maybe it’s at Willa, as he hits post on my phone, my final part in the two-week-long strategy we’ve been working on since the night I broke up with Wes—or at least, tried to.

Yesterday, Leo helped me take photos of sketches and my process and even a few glimpses at finished designs for the Revenge Line, the first of many Harper Holden clothing drops.

Despite the legal battle we’ll be fighting behind closed doors, I decided my plan would be to promote my brand and create a name for myself without ever mentioning Clarissa, Jeremy, or their theft of my previous designs, as per the contract I signed at the police station. But by including the focal piece that Jeremy never got, the piece that so clearly ties together the stolen collection, the piece Willa is wearing right now, I’m quietly reclaiming what is rightfully mine.

Leo hands me back my phone, which is buzzing with messages already, but it’s his words that have me smiling.

“Your husband,” Leo says.

I expect to see a call when I glance at my screen, but it’s simply a message.

Love you. You deserve this moment.

I smile again and move to type, but then my name is called, and I’m being moved along to the spotlight, and once again, my universe tilts.

But this time, I’ve never felt better about where my life is headed.

THIRTY-SEVEN

WES

A few months ago, my life felt like it had never been worse. I was fresh out of a relationship I thought I’d be in for forever after finding out about his infidelity. I wasn’t where I hoped I would be in my career, and I was lonely, watching my best friends grow and live their lives. I was terrified that I was being left behind, that my clock was ticking.

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