The final bell rung, but no one moved. Not even to breathe too loudly. The cards were written. The test was over. But the real trial? That was just beginning.
Before getting up Venessa hand over the piece of clothing Elise had showed, after which Venessa pulled out her phone and googled something before she calmly stood up. The hour was up, and so was the conversation.
Venessa'd held the secret. She hadn't revealed a thing about her and Damon that wasn't in the public domain already, they had separated because her fiancé thought they were no longer compatible and it has nothing to do with Ellison's bankruptcy or the low game Damon played with Venessa of using her. So the truth about her private affair with Damon was still tucked beneath her ribcage, not the strategy curled behind her smile. Elise had failed to unearth anything of value that wasn't in news, and Venessa had ensured she didn't failed without ever appearing hostile.
It wasn't personal. Just desperate times of desperate measures.
Each pair was about to called up to present their answers. One pair of women giggled. Two rambled. And the last one of Venessa and Elise, which looked like Elise sweet-deer was giving the Venessa a TED Talks.
Adrienne, poised at the centre of the judges' panel, didn't blink once. Camille, her shadow assistant with a sharper tongue and a meaner memory, was already scribbling names beside phrases like "mediocre metaphors" and "delusional self-perception."
"The ones who gave too much," Adrienne addressed the tests motives before they started judging the answers which Venessa assumed they already had, so she intently listen to the old fashionista. "have no place here. And the ones who gave nothing? Useless. I'm not breeding martyrs or mannequins."
Adrienne glanced across the room, eyes lingering briefly on Venessa, then Elise. Then two names were called—not Elise's, not Venessa's—but two others who had either cracked too soon or not at all.
The test hadn't been about just the secret. It had been about ones control over it. About whether they would spill what wasn't theirs, or protect what didn't serve them.
Among the six of the answers given, one was eliminated, she was escorted away, then Adrienne turned back to the last and said with a smile that could gut:
"Which one of you would like to take the stage first?" Since, Venessa hadn't written her answers, she didn't voluntary first. But then after waiting for three seconds when Elise didn't move.
Venessa walked up with slow, deliberate grace—like she knew the weight of every step she took and wanted people to see she wasn't easy, unlike what Elise was doing. Though Elise switched to followed Venessa's manners, high on the belief that she'd nailed this; her smile barely concealed the smug. She was sure the Elites girl would never guess a middle-girl's life nuiances by any means. Moreover, Elise was confident without even knowing the question on Venessa's card about her. In her eyes, Elise was simple and straight, she has no secrets.
Camille didn't bother hiding her curiosity. Neither did the room. If they had to honest, they had put both girls on each other just purely based on their current social status and she felt bad for Venessa for she was once a heiress, and it must be humiliating if the girl is pompous to pair with Elise, as Camille was when Adrienne chose Elise for the son's bride-to-be candidate.
Venessa held her question card about Elsie between her fingers, Elise being a good manner offered Venessa thumbs up to take the chance and show other of her easiness. Whereas, in Venessa's eyes the girl was too confident about that anything Venessa next will revealed from their conversation would be futile even though she didn't know the question on Venessa's card.
Her voice calm but cut with precision, Venessa first read her card. "The question was: "Find out what Elise isn't saying about her family's fall?"
She paused. Let it breathe.
"So, did you know what is Miss Elise's secret Miss Ellison?" Adrienne asked, and to Venessa it felt like a challenging jab. "Show me your discernment, as it isn't just intelligence—it's the ability to tell truth from performance. Substance from packaging. It's what separates a leader from a crowd-pleaser. What did Elise reveal?"
Adrienne then turned to look at Elise with the softest smile—soft, but laced with fire. Like she knew better and now Venessa had a chance to level-up.
So Venessa had no scope of losing, hence she began, politely first. "Sure, Mrs. Lauran, I know the answer. My partner had beautiful things to say during the exercise. Almost… too beautiful. They echoed mine so well, I could've sworn I was talking to myself from past when I was easy to talk."
A few of the candidate choked on their water. Adrienne's lips twitched. Camille just wrote: Present Venessa = ruthless, elegant.
Elise's smile faltered like a mirror cracking from one corner.
But Venessa had just began. "The claim on Elise's father—once a prized logistics advisor for the Laurens' South Pacific ventures—had been dismissed under hushed circumstances. Officially, it was stated a "contractual misunderstanding." She paused voicing in her mind only. Unofficially? It is known better to a person with a brain why was he dismissed then and not released after clearance. Mrs. Lauran must have avoided taking dirt on her brand while plucking the fly and swatting away respectfully. So no one dared call it what it was.
It just so happened something clicked and Venessa glanced over Adrienne 'She is taking her enemy down like this, it can't be...' as if taking a clue, Adrienne spoke next in a warned tone with a smile on her lip. "Miss Eliison, mind you, if you speak further. You must explain how you come up with your answer too as I don't entertain assumption or rumors."
Ruthless, Venessa could only that one word for Adrienne as she then looked at Elise with a little soft eyes, as if telling her she can't hold her secrets.
"Elise didn't told me the truth as to why her father was dismissed but she show me." Elise frown as not understanding Venessa's mode of language.
Venessa continued, "Do you remember the fabric swatch you brought and showed me after I told you about my interest in fashion and making dresses?" Venessa asked, her tone mild, almost conversational. Elise gave an awkward nod, yes, what's wrong with it.
"And you claimed that it was one of the last successful piece from your family's boutique line in Laurens' State before your father was dismissed?"
Elise nodded, brightening. "Of course, till date, after four months. It's still one of my father's signature pieces. We're very proud of—"
"Counterfeiting it," Venessa cut in, smoothly and without malice, like one might mention the weather. "It's a knockoff because your father imitated it fraudulently. Lifted directly from an emerging Milanese designer. She debuted the pattern three months before your family 'introduced' it—wrapped in some faux-ethical 'sustainability' branding."
Silence fell—heavy and immediate.
Across the room, Adrienne's lips curved, just barely.
"Ever, since I knew sewing, I work with fabrics and follow designer, and I honed to guess where it could come from," Venessa continued, her voice still steady, almost gentle. "Helped with material sourcing. When I saw the pattern on your fabric, I thought it was a coincidence. Then the question of card clicked, when you brought it up again with your father's legacy in Lauran's—gushing about exclusivity. So I checked. Patent records. Launch dates. Even the thread count of patch."
She tilted her head slightly, eyes cool.
"Turns out, Elise, your family's reputation was sewn with stolen thread."
"Impossible!"Elise's expression shattered so her words, she knew her father use lot of under means but he never got caught. "I… I didn't know. My father said it came from a trusted supplier—"
"Of course he did," Venessa murmured. "They always do."
Adrienne clapped—once. The sound rang out like a slap.
"Well done," she said, her tone dipped in disdain and delight. "A fitting unraveling." Camille handed her a folder. She skimmed it, then looked up. "Impressive, it was indeed the secret of Elise's family."
She turned slightly, head tilting in appraisal. "I didn't expect such a surgical strike from you, Venessa. But I should have. You weren't just answering a question about that little card—I was watching to see if you took this profession seriously."
Her lips curved. This time, it was a smile.
"And now I see you do."
"Brilliant," she said, eyes never leaving Venessa. "Thorough. Precise. Elegant in its cruelty."
Elise flinched like the words had struck her.
"I didn't know," Elise protested again, weakly. "My father never told me—he would never—"
Adrienne held up a hand, sharp as a blade. "Don't insult my intelligence, Elise. Intentions don't change facts. Venessa did the work. She answered the question. You didn't."
Elise's mouth opened, but Adrienne was already turning away.
"I gave you a choice, Elise. You could answer the question on the card, or walk out defeated. Instead, you let your family's secrets speak for you."
Venessa's jaw tightened—not in arrogance, but in quiet, collected pride. She'd won. Publicly. Cleanly. Brutally.
But Elise—Elise wasn't finished.
She took a slow step forward, a different kind of light sparking in her eyes now.
"Well then," she said, voice trembling at the edges—but not with fear. With fury. "If we're trading answers, maybe it's time someone answered a different kind of card. The one with your name on it, Venessa."
Venessa turned, a flicker of wariness behind her cool gaze.
Elise's smile was fragile. Sharp. The kind of smile worn by people who've already lost, but still want blood.
"Let's hear my answer and let the judges be decide," she said sweetly. Then Elise stepped up, chin high and eyes gleaming, ready to air Venessa's dirty laundry in public—where it would sting the most.
Her question card had been sitting like a loaded gun in her clutch: 'Find out what she's hiding in her private love life.' Unlike the quiet scandal of stolen fabric, this was tabloid gold. Messy, intimate, and designed to detonate. Venessa had called her family counterfeiters, sure—but Elise?
Elise was about to rip the curtain off something far more sensational. And she was going to do it in front of everyone.