Chapter 164: Fake a Defeat

Jean-Luc held his red, bruised cheek, sniffling pathetically as he scrambled to grab his jacket. He didn’t dare say another word, hurrying toward the exit with his head buried low.

"Don’t get any ideas about leaving the country, Jean-Luc," I called after him, my voice cutting through the hall like a razor. "When Chloe calls you to the stand, you’ll be there. If you vanish, I won’t just sue you—I’ll hunt you down myself."

He flinched, practically sprinting through the heavy glass doors as they slammed shut behind him.

Silence fell over the executive suite, broken only by the quiet hum of the servers and the live pre-order screen still pulsing on the wall.

Then, S. Rick stepped forward.

The proud, legendary master of fashion—a man who had spent forty years at the top of the global elite—slowly lowered his head and bowed deeply to Benita and me. His hands were clenched at his sides, his shoulders tense with profound, burning humiliation.

"I am sickened to my very core," Rick said, his voice trembling with a mixture of grief and disgust. "That my own blood—my grandson—would resort to such a disgraceful, dishonorable act of cowardice... to steal the work of a brilliant artist and attempt to destroy a rising house. I apologize to you both. On behalf of the Rick name, I am deeply, terribly ashamed."

He raised his head, his weathered eyes burning with an intense, iron conviction. "I will personally hand over every piece of internal family documentation, every O.R. Atelier record I have access to, and stand beside your legal counsel to destroy Oliver’s claim in court."

I immediately stepped forward, placing a firm, respectful hand on the old man’s shoulder to stop him.

"Please, Rick, don’t bow to us," I said gently, easing him back up. "You don’t owe us an apology for his pathetic choices. This isn’t your fault, and we know where your loyalty lies. Take a seat."

Rick took a slow, heavy breath, nodding gratefully as he sat down on the leather couch.

Benita crossed her arms, still breathing heavily from the adrenaline, but her posture had hardened into pure steel. She looked at me, her eyes sharp.

"So," she said, her voice dropping into that cold, dangerous register. "Oliver thinks he can block seven of our launch pieces with stolen paper. What’s our next move, Ethan?"

A slow, icy smirk spread across my face as I turned toward Sarah and pulled out my phone to call Chloe back.

"Our next move is simple," I said. "We don’t just fight his cease-and-desist. We turn his fake patent trap into the biggest trap of his life."

I put the phone to my ear, wait for Chloe to pick up on the second ring, and speak in a clear, deliberate tone.

"Chloe," I said, my voice smooth and calm. "Notify the court and Oliver’s legal team. Tell them we’re standing down. We’re pulling the seven disputed designs from the online launch immediately."

The entire room went dead silent.

Benita’s head whipped toward me so fast her hair flew across her face. "What?!" she shouted, stepping right into my space and grabbing my arm. "Ethan, are you insane?! We are NOT standing down! Those are my designs! I bled for those seven pieces! You’re just going to hand them to Oliver on a silver platter?!"

"Breathe, Benita," I said, sliding my phone back into my pocket while looking her straight in the eye. "Trust me. I have a plan."

She glared at me, her chest heaving, but the absolute confidence in my eyes made her pause.

"Oliver built his entire lawsuit around the assumption that we’d panic, tie ourselves up in a six-month legal battle, and freeze our company’s capital while he quietly manufactures those seven pieces under O.R. Atelier," I explained, a slow, predatory smirk spreading across my face. "He thinks he cornered us."

Rick sat up on the couch, his sharp eyes narrowing as he caught on. "You’re letting him walk straight into a trap."

"Exactly," I said, turning to Sarah. "Sarah, announce publicly that UncuT is voluntarily holding back those seven pieces out of ’respect for legal due process,’ but we’re launching the remaining five core designs today."

I leaned over the desk, looking at Benita and Rick.

"While Oliver celebrates his cheap legal win and spends millions of his own capital rushing to produce my stolen designs for his upcoming runway show, Chloe will be quietly collecting Jean-Luc’s full sworn confession, the bank wire trails, and Rick’s internal family records."

My smirk widened, turning dangerous.

"We let him build the collection. We let him host his grand unveiling. And right when he steps onto that runway to take his bow in front of the entire global press... Chloe drops the federal fraud indictment, the criminal IP theft charges, and the absolute proof of backdated forgery."

Benita’s jaw slowly loosened as a wicked, electric smile began to break across her face. "He won’t just lose the lawsuit..."

"He’ll be ruined," Rick finished softly, a cold, satisfied gleam in the old master’s eyes. "Publicly, financially, and legally. In front of the whole world."

"Precisely," I said, my phone buzzing as Chloe sent a quick confirmation text: [PLAY ACCEPTED. TRAP IS SET.]

"Now," I looked at Benita, giving her a sharp nod. "Let’s push the five core designs and show them what UncuT does with its hands tied behind its back."

With the disputed seven pieces quietly pulled back, Sarah hit the master switch on our server network.

"Relaunching store with the five core designs... now," she announced, her fingers flying across her keyboard.

The digital countdown on the projector screen hit zero, and the public portal for UncuT went live across the globe.

For thirty seconds, the room held its breath. Then, the live analytics map lit up like a Christmas tree.

"We’re getting hit with massive traffic," Sarah breathed, staring at the exponential spike on her screen. "The news of the seven withheld pieces created an absolute media frenzy. People are calling it ’forbidden couture.’ The five available core designs... Ethan, the pre-order queues are overflowing!"

Within twenty minutes, the entire initial run of our five core pieces completely sold out. Millions of dollars in pre-orders flooded into our merchant accounts, crashing payment gateways in Europe and Asia as high-net-worth buyers scrambled to secure a piece of UncuT before the inventory vanished.

Benita stared at the glowing sales counter in sheer awe. The five remaining pieces—sharp, raw, and completely undeniably hers—were dominating every fashion blog, trend list, and social media feed in real-time.

"They bought everything," Benita whispered, a breathless laugh breaking out of her. "Even with five pieces... we completely broke the internet."

"Because quality speaks louder than Oliver’s fake paper trail," Rick said, standing up from the couch and raising his glass toward us with a look of profound satisfaction. "You didn’t just survive his sabotage; you turned his attack into free global publicity."

My phone gave a heavy, distinct double-vibration against my ribs.

I pulled it out and tapped the screen, opening the encrypted system ledger:

[CORE LAUNCH SUCCESSFUL]

Market Dominance Verified: 5/5 Available Lineup Sold Out in < 30 Mins

System Evaluation: Strategic Counter-Trap Active

Phase 2 Pipeline: O.R. Atelier Trapped in Production Phase

Current Liquid Assets: $950,000,000.00

Next Event: The Trap Springs at the Global Gala

I slid the phone back into my pocket, looking around the room. Benita was celebrating with Sarah, Rick was already drafting high-end supplier contacts for our next collection, and somewhere across town, Oliver Rick was naively celebrating a victory that was about to destroy his entire life.

I walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out over the glowing city skyline as I raised my glass.

"Enjoy the high while it lasts, Oliver," I muttered quietly under my breath, a cold, ruthless smile touching my lips. "Your curtain is coming down real soon."