Chapter 25

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 25

Chapter Title: Blackmail for Blackmail

-----------------------------------------------------------------

"Please convey this to Her Highness the Princess."

Madam Lauren stared firmly at the princess's secretary and spoke resolutely.

"There are plenty of people in the world who make clothes, but there's no designer who can replace me, Madam Lauren."

Madam Lauren straightened her back and strode out of the reception room with dignified poise.

Even past forty, she stubbornly wore high-heeled shoes and never stumbled, no matter the moment.

From commoner roots, she had honed this bearing through grueling effort to hold her own against nobles. It encompassed a lofty pride rivaling their own.

She could have knelt and begged, but that flimsy pride wouldn't allow it.

"Lancelot Company."

Storming out of the palace, she called out to the coachman.

Edgar Langcaster Lancelot wasn't the sort you could meet just by showing up uninvited. Especially not some dress shop owner who had shattered trust.

Edgar was in his office at Lancelot Hotel, not the company headquarters.

The sunlight that had flooded the first-floor lobby now kissed the pointed toe of Madam Lauren's shoes.

It was blatant neglect, heavy with intent. Overt door-rejection, but if she'd turned tail every time, Madam Lauren today wouldn't exist. She knew when to shed that flimsy pride.

Five hours by her measure was plenty. Madam Lauren pulled a notepad and fountain pen from her tawny leather bag.

She scribbled something furiously, tore off the sheet, and folded it neatly. With haughty steps, she approached the front desk clerk.

"Please deliver this to Director Lancelot."

The head-tilting clerk waited for the manager, then passed the note along.

Madam Lauren stood resolute in place as the manager rode the elevator up and down. Some ten minutes later, ding! The doors slid open. It was Edgar's secretary.

"You've got a knack for blackmail."

Edgar nodded toward the note on the table with a smile.

"Anne Juber. It seems Miss Blanchett doesn't know you lent it out, Director."

"Ten minutes."

His smile vanished, replaced by a steely expression.

Regret deepening her gaze, Madam Lauren began.

"My mother was a noble house chambermaid. I started sewing to help her at ten. From that tender age, I pricked my fingers bloody making clothes."

He'd granted too much time, it seemed.

"If you're not angling for tears, get to the point."

Edgar sliced through the drawn-out prelude, his narrowed eyes fixed on her.

"I clawed my way up from nothing to this spot."

His bored stare at the clichéd tale drifted to the wall clock behind her.

"Royal exclusive designer. That title was me. Until now."

"So. What's your point?"

Bored by the rote script, Edgar cut in.

"You've put me in a bind, Director."

"You've done the same to me."

Edgar drawled indifferently, tracing the water-beaded rim of his melting ice glass. Annblin yapping about that damned necklace flashed in his mind, drawing a sneer.

"Lost my atelier's top client. Socialite ladies will follow soon enough."

"So. You want loss compensation?"

"No. As you said, I leaked client info too. Won't beg one-sided."

Madam Lauren flatly refuted him.

Edgar's eyes narrowed further. Rumors painted her a fox true, but not the shameless breed. He rescinded that snap judgment moments later.

"Acquire my atelier under Lancelot Company."

The abrupt pitch drew a scoff from Edgar.

Acquire, indeed.

"Why would I?"

"Miss Blanchett's mess stemmed from the necklace. I'll declare it was your ploy, Marquis."

"You'll lie."

Edgar's sole demand had been crystal: 'Make it unmistakably Olivia Blanchett to any eye.'

Their gazes clashed like crossed blades.

"I never named that necklace."

"Believe it or not is her call. But she'll buy it, I reckon. And."

The sly vixen toyed with her emerald ring, stalling. Snapping her gaze up, Madam Lauren's voice thickened with threat.

"Just my hunch, but that scandal? Your handiwork too."

"So."

His edged stare pinned her.

"Miss Blanchett, sadly, remains in the dark."

Acting like she'd snagged some killer leverage. Edgar huffed a dry laugh at the seamless, pro blackmail.

"That piddly dress shop."

His voice sank to a growl.

"Easier to buy it out or smash it flat? Your bet?"

Blackmail met blackmail.

His ruthless eyes iced over. Leisurely yet lethal, like a beast boxing in prey, the look made Madam Lauren gasp.

As anticipated, no pushover.

Folding here spelled doom. Her gilded six-story Eve Lauren Boutique would fade to footnote.

As Edgar put it, no twilight as rural rag merchant for her.

Success hinged on rising one fall ahead, no?

Heat surged from her core.

"No losing proposition."

"You just claimed deals dried up."

"Mass-produce top quality at fair prices for sale."

Madam Lauren pressed on, calm and compelling.

"Motto of reborn Lancelot Lauren."

"Ready-to-wear."

Vast investment loomed: factories, kingdom-spanning sales net. Brazen pitch from a sinking shop. Fox through and through.

"Aim for moneyed middle class."

Times shifted.

"Dreamwear for commoners too. Garments every woman yearns to don once."

Princess Annblin included, naturally. Pride bars Lancelot Lauren on her frame, but crave it to madness. Regret today.

"We're boat-bound. I don't swim."

Petty grudge aside, new hunger dawned. Carriage from Britt court to Lancelot Company, then Hotel—she sketched fresh horizons.

Beyond royal tailor: Britt Kingdom's people's designer.

Lancelot's national wings? Sky's no limit.

"My lips seal or flap? Your call entirely, Director."

Madam Lauren flashed a loaded smile.

"Lancelot Lauren thrives or tanks? Your hands too, Director. Decide."

Confidence lit her grin as she locked eyes with Edgar.

What a fox.

Negotiator matching her sewing savvy. Handing reins bolstered his clout, dumped failure's weight feather-light on him.

Mutual smiles hung; silence stretched.

Edgar glanced out the window. Full dusk beyond glass. City glows cradled soon-to-launch Leopold Hotel's blaze.

Fashion realm.

First pre-Johann plunge. Odd rivalry sparked.

"Fetch the business plan. Can't swallow losses and sink."

"Naturally. Era's turning. Lancelot Lauren succeeds for sure."

Her eyes blazed battle-ready. Thirty years' tower toppled by one smug patron? No, not even Britt's princess.

Satisfied, Madam Lauren rose, smoothing her garb.

"That necklace."

"Anne Juber?"

"Bundle it in the acquisition."

The bolt-from-blue stunned her.

"If I may, it's my personal asset."

"Precisely. Acquiring it alongside."

Decision flipped to her now.

"Fair's fair—one condition from me too?"

His eyes twinkled toward the clock. Six-ten sharp ticked past.

Olivia returned to International Bank with Anne.

"An honor to serve."

The clerk bolted up at her sight, bowing obsequiously. Prior fiasco taught Olivia Blanchett's client heft; his shift bordered sycophantic.

Earl Blanchett's raid hammered home vault needs. Olivia scanned the personal safe form proffered, filling blanks meticulously.

Wealth safeguarded amid fresh Edgar scandal before Rose Ball whispers faded. Dodged penniless fate, yet no pure joy.

'There's a condition.'

'...'

That day, carriage-bound for guarantor plea, he'd smirked those words.

Wish claimed as bet win's prize; he tacked a condition. Unfair, but she'd hear it.

'Speak.'

Outlandish or not, refusal wasn't hers. He'd grasp that well.

For now, Edgar Langcaster Lancelot: sole lifeline.