I glanced around.
Several guests were listening openly.
Others pretended not to.
The room had become a silent audience.
I looked back at the investor.
"You were comfortable doing it in front of everyone."
She flinched.
Then lowered her voice.
"Listen carefully. You may be talented, but you are making an extremely expensive mistake."
My chief operating officer shifted beside me.
I raised one hand slightly.
He remained quiet.
The investor continued.
"You need my distribution network. You need my buyers. You need my relationships."
I nodded.
"The collaboration was valuable."
She looked encouraged.
Then I added, "That's why we negotiated a contract that defines both parties' responsibilities."
Her expression changed.
I continued.
"The release authorization was not issued because serious production questions remain unresolved."
She waved one hand.
"Technical nonsense."
I stared.
"Unapproved materials and undisclosed subcontracting aren't nonsense."
The investor's eyes narrowed.
For the first time, she looked genuinely alarmed.
She glanced toward the executives behind her.
Then back at me.
"Who told you about subcontracting?"
I held her gaze.
"Your team hasn't completed the required documentation."
She leaned closer.
"You're making accusations."
"No."
I kept my voice calm.
"I'm asking for records necessary to determine whether the collection meets our agreement."
She stared.
I continued.
"And until we have those records and the approved garments, there will be no runway release."
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then the investor gave a tight smile.
"We can settle this."
I looked at her.
"How?"
She leaned closer.
"Privately."
There was something unmistakable in her tone.
An expectation that every problem could be converted into a price.
I almost heard the banknotes striking my face again.
She continued.
"Name your number."
The words fell into the silence.
I stared.
For a moment, I was twenty-one again, standing in a hotel restaurant while a customer snapped his fingers and a supervisor told me to apologize.
Then I looked toward the wealthy woman's face.
"No."
Her expression froze.
"What?"
"I don't have a number that makes the conduct acceptable or eliminates your contractual obligations."
She stepped closer.
"Everyone has a number."
I shook my head.
"Not for everything."
Her face hardened.
She looked toward my gown.
Then sneered.
"Don't pretend you're above money, sweetheart. You built your little label because you wanted it."
I took a slow breath.