Too many workers depended on the money it would generate.
Too many skilled hands had touched the garments now waiting behind the curtains.
If I wanted to hold the investor accountable without punishing everyone else, I needed to make decisions more carefully than she had.
The acting event executive returned to my side.
He was breathing heavily.
"May we speak privately?"
I glanced toward the investor.
She was staring at me now.
Her face had lost much of its color.
"Not yet."
The executive hesitated.
"Madam, the situation is becoming difficult."
"I know."
He lowered his voice.
"Buyers are asking whether the collection has been withdrawn permanently."
I shook my head.
"Don't tell them that."
He looked relieved.
I continued.
"Tell them the presentation has been suspended pending resolution of contractual and quality-control matters. Any public statement needs to be accurate and reviewed by the authorized representatives."
He nodded.
"And the garments?"
"Secure them."
"All of them?"
"Yes. Preserve the inventory, production records, technical samples, and relevant communications. Don't allow unapproved movement or alterations."
The executive looked toward the runway.
"What about the models?"
"They should be paid for their contracted time according to their agreements. The same applies to the crews whose work has already been performed."
He stared.
For a moment, he seemed surprised that I was thinking about payroll while the event collapsed.
I understood why.
Most people in the room were focused on the embarrassment.
The lost publicity.
The millions in potential orders.
But I could see another group of people.
The women who spent hours in fittings.
The technicians who installed lighting rigs.
The seamstresses who corrected hems at midnight.
The caterers who had been on their feet since morning.
They hadn't caused this.
They shouldn't be the first people to lose money.
I looked toward the executive.
"Also, nobody destroys or returns garments until the contractual responsibilities are clarified."
He nodded again.
Then asked carefully, "What should I tell the investor?"
I looked toward the woman in red.
She was approaching.
"You won't need to tell her anything."
The investor walked toward me with three executives following.
Her pearls moved against the crimson satin as she crossed the marble floor.
She wasn't smiling anymore.
But she hadn't abandoned the posture that had served her for forty years.
Chin lifted.
Shoulders back.
Eyes sharp.
She stopped several feet away.
"Let's stop this nonsense."
I met her gaze.
"Which part?"
Her jaw tightened.
"The cancellation."
I said nothing.
She continued.
"I don't know what game you're playing, but this evening represents millions of dollars."
I nodded.
"I'm aware."
She glanced at the acting executive.