No one saidCreed’sname either.
They didn’t have to.
In this industry, consequences didn’t always come with headlines.Sometimes they came with closed doors.Unreturned calls.Invitations that quietly stopped arriving.
I found Creed near the edge of the floor as people surged forward, congratulating everyoneexceptthe man who wasn’t there.
“The show was a success,” I said softly.
His gaze flicked to me.“I know.”
“You didn’t even watch half of it.”
A corner of his mouth lifted.“I didn’t need to.”
I hesitated.“They’re already talking.”
“They will,” he said calmly.“For about a week.”
“And Manny?”
His eyes hardened—just a fraction.“He’ll blame everyone but himself.”
“What happens next?”
Creed leaned closer, his voice low enough that only I could hear it.“He keeps his designs.He loses his access.”
My pulse skipped.“That’s it?”
“That’s everything.”
I understood then.
Creed hadn’t destroyed him.
He’dremoved him.
From rooms that mattered.
From deals that built careers.
From spaces where power circulated quietly among people who remembered who made their lives easier—and who made them harder.
As the crowd buzzed around us, I realized something else.
The industry wasn’t shocked by Manny’s absence.They were relieved.And that told me everything I needed to know.
Because men like Manny Lennox didn’t fall because of one mistake.They fell because someone finally decided not to protect them anymore.
And Creed hadn’t protected him at all.
He’d protectedme.
And tonight, the entire fashion world had felt the ripple of that choice—whether they understood it or not.
