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“Because this isn’t an idea we came up with on a whim.”

Harper lowers her head toward her notebook to jot down something absurd, but Victoria notices the playful tremor at the corner of her lips. An intimate, shared curve that makes Victoria’s pulse quicken. Eleanor isn’t blind: she narrows her eyes as she observes her own creation.

“All right,” she concedes. “Let’s take a look at Serein Labs.”

Victoria moves to the next slide. Recycled jars, samples of pure pigments, and images of the fermentation process appear.

“Pigments created from food byproducts and clean biotechnology,” Harper explains. “Limited production, refillable containers. And a process that would make many people envious. When Velvet & Silk features them in the magazine, we’re going to get quite a bit of applause.”

Victoria watches Harper in profile. There she is—the woman she fell in love with: brilliant, passionate, self-assured.

“The problem,” Eleanor continues, tapping the table with her index finger, “is that I see too much risk in a single issue. A photographer from Detroit with no editorial portfolio, sustainable cosmetics… I asked you for a breath of fresh air, yes, but not to make the rest of our advertisers nervous.”

“Eighty percent of the issue still belongs to the usual brands. And maybe that’ll give them a wake-up call,” Victoria replies without batting an eye. “This is just a showcase to prove that Velvet & Silk knows how to tap into today’s trends.”

Harper takes over, as if they’d rehearsed the dialogue a thousand times in private.

“Either we take a risk now, or we’ll become the typical magazine our moms read while waiting at the dentist’s office. And none of us wants that on our résumés.”

Eleanor watches them both in silence for forty agonizing seconds. Then she closes the file.

“I’ll take Naomi Reeves. Six pages for the profiles section, with Julian right alongside her. But I don’t see Serein Labs’ aesthetic fitting with our visual style.”

Harper smiles and turns her laptop screen toward Eleanor. She shows one of the layout sketches Victoria jotted down on her iPad during the flight back.

“If the editorial team approaches the feature as a fascinating story about how this type of cosmetics is created…” Victoria announces without hesitation, “the design will integrate perfectly with the ads and the feature. I know we’re going to turn heads.”

“Are you going all in?” Eleanor asks them.

They both nod, and Eleanor looks at them with a touch of skepticism.

“How curious,” she murmurs. “A month ago, I would have bet that this meeting would end with the two of you tearing each other’s eyes out over who works better.”

Harper settles back in her chair.

“People grow up, Eleanor. Even in this industry.”

“Or they learn to hide their intentions better,” the boss notes ironically. “Anyway. You have my approval.”

Harper lets out a sigh, but Eleanor raises her hand, cutting short the celebration.

“But… you have a week to turn in the final designs to the printer. If this goes wrong and we lose advertisers, heads will roll. And I’ll make sure they’re yours.”

Victoria tilts her head, regaining her usual sarcasm.

“What a poetic way to motivate the staff.”

“I’m not paid to motivate you, Vance. I’m paid to keep Velvet & Silk number one.”

Eleanor stands up, picks up her empty cup, and walks toward the door. Before leaving, she turns around for a second.

“Surprise me. And don’t make me regret my decision to have you two work together.”

As soon as the door closes, Harper slumps back into the armchair, covering her face with her hands.

“Tell me I didn’t just sign my own death warrant.”

“Technically, we both signed it,” Victoria corrects her, closing her laptop. “Although in my case, I prefer to call it ‘efficiency under pressure.’”