I had heard stories about her.
Some people praised her commercial judgment.
Others described her as demanding and impossible to satisfy.
Several former employees said she valued loyalty but had little patience for disagreement.
I didn't automatically reject the opportunity.
Successful executives could be difficult without being dishonest.
Business negotiations were rarely comfortable.
And some investors developed harsh reputations simply because they refused weak proposals.
I wanted evidence.
So I asked my legal team to examine the transaction carefully.
The investor agreed to a meeting with my representative.
She had been told AVERY preferred to remain anonymous.
That was not unusual by then.
Most major partners accepted that the designer's public identity was separate from the legal entities signing contracts.
The investor negotiated with my business representatives, attorneys, and financial advisers.
She never met me.
Not knowingly.
But I attended one early presentation.
I wore a simple white blouse, black trousers, and my hair tied back.
I carried samples.
Took notes.
And introduced myself as a member of the creative development team.
The investor barely looked at me.
Instead, she directed every question toward the older male executive leading the presentation.
He was our chief operating officer.
A thoughtful man in his fifties who had spent years managing apparel production and international retail relationships.
He knew my role.
He had worked with me since AVERY's second major collection.
And he understood why I sometimes attended meetings without announcing my identity.
The investor examined the samples.
Then asked him who designed them.
He answered carefully.
"AVERY's creative office."
She frowned.
"I know the label. I want the individual."
He explained that the designer's identity was confidential under the existing business arrangements.
The investor seemed irritated.
"Artists always love making themselves difficult."
I looked down at my notebook.
She continued.
"Well, whoever this person is, they clearly know how to create demand."
Our chief operating officer smiled politely.
"The garments are successful because of their design and construction."
She waved one hand.
"Design is important. Distribution is what makes money."
I said nothing.
Then she picked up a pale-yellow fabric sample.
My stomach tightened.
It was a swatch from First Light, the gown I'd drawn after being humiliated at the Philadelphia hotel years earlier.
The investor rubbed the material between her fingers.
"Too soft."
I looked up.
She held it toward the window.
"I want something that photographs with more structure."
Our chief operating officer explained that the final garment used carefully placed internal construction to create shape without making the fabric stiff.
She interrupted.
"I don't need a sewing lesson."
He stopped.
The room became uncomfortable.
I looked toward the sample.
Then spoke before I could stop myself.
"The softness is intentional."
The investor turned.
For the first time, she looked directly at me.
"Excuse me?"
I kept my voice professional.
"The gown is designed to move naturally. The structure comes from the internal seams and support layers, not from making the outer fabric rigid."
She stared.
Then gave a small, dismissive smile.