Chapter 71: The Queen Doesn’t Need a Crown

The applause still thundered through the Royal Pavilion long after the lights began to rise again. The audience refused to sit, their admiration unrelenting, their cheers echoing against the marble walls like a storm that refused to fade.

The moment had already become legend—the image of Mindy Wilson seated upon the black throne, Matthias King standing silently behind her, the embodiment of strength and grace.

It was a vision that would be replayed across every screen, printed on every cover, whispered about in every corner of the fashion world.

When the applause finally began to settle, the organizers hurried onto the runway. The magnificent black throne was carefully wheeled away by a team of assistants, their movements reverent, as though they were handling a sacred relic.

The ceremonial sword that had rested beside Mindy disappeared into the shadows of the backstage, carried by trembling hands that still felt the weight of its symbolism. Only Mindy and Matthias remained standing beneath the dazzling lights, their silhouettes framed by the fading glow of the spotlights.

For a brief moment, the entire Pavilion continued to stare at them. No one wanted the moment to end. The audience seemed suspended between awe and disbelief, as if they were witnessing something more than fashion—something eternal.

Mindy stood tall, her gown flowing around her like liquid night, her expression calm but unreadable. Matthias stood just behind her, his presence steady, his silver mask catching the last glint of light. Together, they looked untouchable.

The host finally stepped forward, smiling helplessly as he raised the microphone. "I think everyone is still recovering from LUXT × Zeus Vision’s masterpiece," he said, his voice carrying a note of laughter. A ripple of amusement spread through the audience, breaking the spell. "But the show must go on," he continued. "Our next Final Masterpiece—representing Loira Fashion and King Group—’Angel and Devil.’"

The lights dimmed again, and the dark symphony that had accompanied The Throne faded into silence. In its place, a soft orchestral melody began to play—gentle strings, a lilting piano, the kind of music that felt like sunlight breaking through clouds. The mood shifted instantly.

From the far end of the runway, a pair of models stepped gracefully into view. The female model wore an exquisite gown of champagne gold, layers of silk organza that shimmered beneath the lights like liquid sunlight. Golden embroidery climbed elegantly from her waist to her shoulders, delicate patterns that caught the light with every movement.

The male model beside her wore a perfectly tailored ivory and black suit with subtle golden accents that mirrored the gown’s design. Together, they looked breathtaking—graceful, elegant, balanced.

Backstage, Lucy stood with her hands clasped tightly in front of her, her eyes fixed on the runway. Her expression was calm, but her chest rose and fell with quiet pride.

Kelvin stood beside her, arms folded, his usual smirk replaced by something softer. It was exactly as she had envisioned.

Even Mindy couldn’t help but smile. "It’s beautiful," she murmured.

Matthias nodded beside her.

The audience clapped warmly, the sound polite but genuine. The judges scribbled notes across their evaluation sheets, their expressions thoughtful.

The golden light of Lucy’s presentation washed over the Pavilion, a gentle contrast to the darkness that had preceded it.

As the applause faded, Mindy released a long, quiet breath. The tension that had carried her through the entire evening began to ease, replaced by a subtle exhaustion that she tried to hide.

Without drawing attention, he extended his hand toward her. His voice was barely above a whisper, meant only for her ears. "You can lean on me," he said. "You’re still recovering. If you get tired, we can go backstage."

His warm breath brushed softly against her ear, and Mindy froze. For a split second, her thoughts drifted back to the fitting room earlier that day—her hands cupping his face, the cool metal of his mask beneath her fingertips, the tremor in his breath when she had told him he wasn’t ugly.

The memory hit her like a spark.

Heat rushed into her cheeks, and she quickly looked away.

"I—I’m fine," she said, far too quickly.

Matthias glanced sideways at her, a faint smile flickering in his eyes. He didn’t tease her. Instead, his fingers quietly adjusted around hers, the gesture subtle, not possessive—simply reassuring.

Mindy lowered her eyes, her heart beating faster than she wanted to admit. Why am I feeling like this? she thought, silently scolding herself.

The show continued. One by one, the remaining fashion houses unveiled their final masterpieces.

Kyle Group presented a collection inspired by celestial constellations, their gowns glittering like fragments of the night sky. Sterling Enterprises followed with a minimalist display of architectural silhouettes, sharp lines and muted tones that drew appreciative murmurs from the judges.

Each presentation received generous applause, but the energy in the Pavilion had shifted. Everyone knew that The Throne had already set a standard that would be impossible to surpass.

Finally, the host returned to the stage. "Our final presentation for today," he announced, "Knight Group and Rona Design—’Empire of Luxury.’"

The lights brightened once more. The orchestra began a grand, sweeping melody as the model stepped elegantly onto the runway.

The gown she wore sparkled magnificently beneath the chandeliers—emerald velvet adorned with diamond embellishments and crystal embroidery. It screamed wealth, power, and opulence.

The audience admired its craftsmanship, and the judges nodded appreciatively.

Mindy watched quietly, her eyes following every detail. Her gaze lingered on the fabric, and a small, knowing smile appeared on her lips.

Velvet absorbs too much light. The silhouette lost its brilliance, she thought. She didn’t need to ask. She already knew someone had changed Maya’s original vision.

When the final runway concluded, the applause was polite but restrained. The energy that had filled the Pavilion earlier had softened into quiet admiration. The host invited all participating designers to return to the stage for the closing bow.

Mindy and Matthias naturally occupied the center. Lucy approached beside Kelvin, her expression warm and genuine.

"Beautiful collection," she said, smiling at Mindy.

Mindy returned the smile. "So was yours."

Lucy laughed softly. "Thank you."

To Mindy’s right, Layton stepped forward, Missy clinging tightly to his arm. Her expression was unmistakably smug, her chin tilted upward as if she had already won.

Mindy rolled her eyes, unwilling to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

Layton’s gaze, however, fell upon the hands still joined between Mindy and Matthias. His jaw tightened, his expression darkening. Matthias noticed.

Without saying a word, he calmly intertwined his fingers with hers. It was a simple gesture, but it was enough. Layton’s fists clenched at his sides.

The host returned to the center of the stage, his voice bright and cheerful.

"Ladies and gentlemen, what an unforgettable runway! Each collection brought something unique. You have witnessed history today."

He smiled toward the judges’ table. "The judges will now deliberate. The final results will be announced in approximately thirty-five minutes. Please enjoy refreshments while our distinguished panel completes their evaluation."

The audience applauded once more, the sound filling the Pavilion as the designers began to exit the stage.

Backstage, the atmosphere shifted instantly. The tension that had gripped every designer for hours finally broke. Some sighed in relief, others laughed, and a few even cried quietly in the corners.

Assistants hugged one another, stylists began packing up, and the air filled with the hum of exhausted celebration.

Mindy and Matthias had barely stepped inside when a timid voice called out.

"Miss Wilson..."

Mindy turned. Standing before her was Maya Vandevort. Beside her stood Rian, Bratt, and the rest of the Rona Design team. They all looked strangely nervous, as if approaching royalty.

Maya smiled awkwardly. "I just wanted to say... your collection was incredible. I’ve never seen black carry so many emotions."

Bratt scratched the back of his neck. "I personally loved The Throne," he said.

Rian immediately disagreed. "No! The Betrayal was the best. The details were unbelievable."

The two nearly started arguing, and Maya quickly elbowed Bratt. "Stop embarrassing me," she hissed. Then she turned back to Mindy, her cheeks flushed.

"I’m sorry. We were just excited to meet you."

Mindy laughed softly, the sound easing their nerves.

"Did you design Empire of Luxury?" she asked.

Maya nodded. "Yes. I did."

"It was beautiful," Mindy said sincerely.

Maya’s eyes widened in surprise. "Thank you."

"But," Mindy continued, her tone gentle, "you chose the wrong fabric."

Before Maya could respond, Bratt blurted out, "She didn’t! She picked satin! Miss Hawthorne insisted on velvet!"

Silence fell instantly.

Maya’s face turned pale. She smacked Bratt’s arm. "Bratt! Shut up!"

But it was already too late.

Missy had heard everything.

Her heels clicked sharply against the marble as she strode over, her expression cold and venomous.

"So," she said, her voice dripping with mockery, "the great Miss Wilson has time to criticize other people’s work now? My designers worked day and night. You shouldn’t look down on them."

Mindy blinked once, then slowly turned to face her. "Are you dumb?"

The entire backstage froze.

"I complimented Maya," Mindy said evenly. "I simply said satin suited her design better. If you don’t understand couture fabrics, you should let the professionals make professional decisions."

Missy’s smile vanished. "Mindy! Who are you calling dumb? How I manage my designers has nothing to do with you! You should worry about yourself."

Mindy folded her arms. "At least you’re finally showing your real personality," she said. "Much better than fake crying."

Missy’s face twisted with fury. Her eyes darted toward Matthias, and a mocking laugh escaped her lips.

"So this is your silent protector?" she sneered. "What a joke. No wonder you wear a mask. If I looked like that, I’d hide too. You ugly scum."

The words hung in the air like poison.

Even Maya lowered her head, unable to look.

Before anyone could react, there was a sharp, sickening crack.

Mindy had already grabbed Missy’s wrist.

Missy’s eyes widened in shock. "What—"

Mindy twisted.

A scream tore through the corridor. "AHHHHHH!"

Everyone froze. No one had even seen her move.

Mindy’s eyes were colder than ice. "What," she said softly, "did you call him?"

Missy whimpered, tears spilling down her cheeks. "M-Mindy!"

"Repeat it."

Mindy twisted again. Another scream echoed through the backstage.

Kelvin rushed forward. "Miss Wilson! Let her go!"

Layton arrived moments later, his voice sharp. "Mindy! What are you doing?"

Mindy didn’t even glance at him. "I’m teaching her something," she said.

Emily and Raymond hurried over, drawn by the commotion.

Emily’s face changed immediately when she saw the scene. "Mindy!" she cried. "What has become of you? Have you become this unruly?"

Before Mindy could answer, Wade stepped forward, his expression darkening. "Who the hell are you calling unruly?"

Emily snapped, her voice shrill. "You stray! You have no right to—"

The word had barely left her mouth when Mindy released Missy’s wrist. Missy stumbled backward into Kelvin’s arms, sobbing.

Mindy turned slowly toward Emily. Every step she took made Emily unconsciously retreat. "Say it again," Mindy said, her voice terrifyingly calm. "Who are you calling a stray?"

Emily swallowed hard, her bravado faltering.

Mindy stepped closer, her eyes blazing. "The only stray standing here is you," she said. "You leeched off my mother. You stole her family. You stole her husband. You stole her designs. And you still have the nerve to insult us?"

Emily’s tears appeared instantly. Raymond stepped between them, his voice firm. "Mindy. Enough."

Mindy looked directly into his eyes. For one brief moment, her past life flashed before her—the father who had never believed her. The man who chose Missy. Her fists clenched at her sides.

Then a gentle hand touched hers.

"Mindy," Layton said quietly. "This isn’t the place." He reached toward her hand, his voice softer than before.

She looked down at his hand, then slapped it away. The sharp sound echoed across the corridor. "Don’t," she said, her voice trembling with fury. "Touch. Me. It’s disgusting."

Layton froze. He saw genuine hatred in her eyes—not anger, not resentment, but hatred. His heart sank. He couldn’t understand it.

What did I do? Why does she hate me so much?

Before the silence could stretch any further, Matthias stepped forward. He moved quietly, placing himself between Mindy and everyone else. Then, without a word, he pulled her gently into his embrace. Not tightly—just enough to shield her from the crowd.

"They aren’t worth your anger," he murmured, his voice calm and steady.

Mindy closed her eyes. She breathed in deeply. Mint. That familiar, calming scent. The trembling in her hands slowly disappeared. She wasn’t living that nightmare anymore. She was safe.

Wade smiled faintly. "Come on," he said. "Let’s leave. They don’t deserve another second of your time."

Mindy nodded once. She looked at Layton one final time—her gaze cold, empty—and then turned away. Without another word, she walked out with Matthias.

No one moved. No one spoke.

Missy slowly turned toward Layton. "L-Layton," she stammered. "I..."

She stopped. Layton wasn’t looking at her. His gaze remained fixed on Matthias’s retreating figure.

Raymond suddenly exploded. "Enough!" he shouted. His voice echoed through the corridor. He glared at Missy, his face red with fury. "You embarrassed this family at Bright. You embarrassed us again today. And somehow, you still find time to insult people. When will you finally grow up?"

Missy stared at him, stunned. "Dad...?" she whispered. He had never spoken to her that way. Never.

Emily stepped forward. "Raymond—"

"Enough," he snapped, turning his anger toward her. "Stop defending her."

Then, without another word, he walked away.

Missy stood frozen, her mind blank. Around her, the noise of the backstage slowly returned—the distant chatter, the rustle of fabric, the hum of machinery—but she heard none of it. Everything she believed she controlled, everything she thought she owned, was beginning to crumble.

And for the first time in her life, Missy Hawthorne felt the weight of losing everything.