I stepped backward.
His fingers slipped from my skin.
"No," I said.
The manager blinked.
"What?"
I placed the serving tray on an empty side table.
Then turned toward the wealthy woman.
She was smiling again.
Certain that the situation had ended in her favor.
Certain that I had been humiliated.
Certain that I would leave quietly because people like her could decide whether people like me deserved a paycheck.
I reached into the small hidden pocket sewn inside my gown.
My phone was there.
The investor laughed.
"Oh, wonderful. She's calling somebody."
The manager pointed toward the service exit.
"Put that away and leave immediately."
I ignored him.
My hands were steady now.
I opened a private contact.
Pressed the call button.
And waited.
The line connected almost immediately.
A man's voice answered.
"Is everything ready?"
I looked directly into the wealthy woman's eyes.
"No."
There was a pause.
"What's wrong?"
I took one breath.
Then spoke clearly.
"Cancel the entire launch. This is AVERY."
The investor's smile disappeared.
Not completely.
Just enough to reveal confusion.
The manager laughed.
"Who the hell is AVERY?"
I kept the phone against my ear.
The voice on the other end became urgent.
"Are you certain?"
"Completely."
"All presentations?"
"All of them."
"The runway authorization too?"
I looked toward the stage at the far end of the ballroom.
Behind the curtains, forty-six models were preparing to present the most anticipated luxury collection of the season.
Cameras were waiting.
Fashion editors had flown in from Europe.
Retail buyers represented millions of dollars in potential orders.
Sponsors had paid extraordinary amounts to attach their names to the evening.
And the collection they had all come to see was mine.
"Withdraw every authorization," I said.
The man on the phone was silent for a moment.
Then he answered.
"Understood."
I ended the call.
The wealthy woman stared at me.
For a few seconds, she seemed uncertain whether she should laugh.
Then she gave a dismissive wave.
"Ridiculous."
The manager pointed toward the service door.
"Out. Now."
I didn't move.
Behind the stage curtains, someone began speaking urgently into a headset.
A lighting technician turned away from his control panel.
Two models appeared at the edge of the runway, looked toward the production coordinator, and disappeared again.
The music that was supposed to introduce the collection didn't begin.
Instead, an uncomfortable murmur spread through the ballroom.
The wealthy woman noticed.