Chapter 8 - The Rebirth of Elena Vance
The following morning, Dallas woke up to a spectacle.
Instead of hiding in shame, instead of wearing a wig or retreating into solitude, I walked into the city's most exclusive salon on Highland Park, flanked by two private security guards hired by Marcus.
When the stylist, a French artisan named Henri who had known my mother, saw the uneven, butchered remnants of my hair, he gasped in horror. "Mon dieu, Elena... what happened?"
"A boy tried to steal my power," I replied, looking straight into the mirror. "Finish what he started, Henri. But make it art."
Two hours later, I looked at my reflection.
The jagged, hacked strands were gone. In their place was an impeccably sharp, architectural pixie cut that highlighted the high cheekbones and fierce green eyes I had inherited from my mother. It was sleek, modern, unapologetically bold. The velvet choker remained at my throat, but now it looked like an edgy couture statement rather than a bandage over a bruise.
"You look like an empress," Rachel said, standing behind me in the salon mirror.
"I look like myself," I corrected her. "Now let’s go to the press conference."
Outside the historic Mercer Street building, dozens of financial reporters and fashion journalists had gathered. Rumors had been swirling since dawn about the sudden collapse of Julian Croft’s financial firm and the shocking transfer of the Bell & Rose headquarters.
When I stepped out of the black town car, the flashbulbs exploded in a blinding wall of light. Whispers rippled through the crowd as reporters took in my striking new hairstyle and my sharply tailored ivory Saint Laurent pantsuit.
"Mrs. Croft! Did Mr. Croft resign from Apex Crest?"
"Is Bell & Rose facing bankruptcy?"
I stepped up to the microphones on the marble steps. I raised one hand, and the plaza instantly silenced.
"First," I said clearly, my voice carrying through the morning air, "it is not Mrs. Croft. It is Elena Vance. As of six o'clock yesterday evening, Mr. Julian Croft has been removed from all executive positions at Bell & Rose due to substantiated financial malfeasance."
A collective murmur broke out among the press.
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"Second," I continued, smiling calmly, "Bell & Rose is not bankrupt. In fact, our flagship store will open right here on Mercer Street, expanded by twenty thousand square feet. We have successfully reclaimed our intellectual property, our heritage, and an operating capital of fifty million dollars."
Before the reporters could shout their questions, a sleek black sedan screeched to a halt at the edge of the police barricade.