Phoenix In Prada

Chapter Five: The V-Lookup and the Viral Hook

PHOENIX IN PRADA

— NATHALIE —

I was currently being hugged by Emma Ashford.

In the book this was the Point of No Return — the moment I was supposed to whisper a threat that would trigger her social suicide. Instead I was being squeezed by a girl who smelled like expensive vanilla and desperation.

"Get off me," I hissed, though I didn't push her away. "The entire room is staring. My fiancé looks like he's about to duel your bodyguard."

Emma pulled back, eyes wide and shimmering. "I don't care. You're real. You're a person. You know what a KPI is."

I felt a hysterical laugh bubbling up in my chest. I grabbed her shoulders, my Corporate Shark mask cracking completely. "I died at my desk. Thirty six hours of Excel spreadsheets and lukewarm coffee. I was literally counting my remaining vacation days when my heart gave up."

"I died on a Tuesday," Emma sobbed. "A bad mushroom. On a low-engagement Tuesday. Do you know how embarrassing that is for my brand?"

"I've been trying to calculate the ROI on my fiancé's face for three weeks," I wheezed.

"He's a twelve out of ten," Emma said. "But Nathalie. We have a problem. A huge End-of-Series-Finale problem."

— EMMA —

I pulled her toward a secluded balcony, ignoring James and Victoria converging on us from opposite sides of the room like heat-seeking missiles.

"You haven't finished the book, have you?"

"I was on Chapter 82," Nathalie snapped. "I was busy. I had a career. I figured I'd win, marry the guy, and the credits would roll."

"No, no, no." I shook my head so hard my earrings clinked. "I read the final chapter leak. In the original ending the revenge goes too far. You bankrupt the Ashfords but you lose James in the process because you've become the very monster you were fighting. You end up alone in a mansion, rich but miserable. And I end up in a prison cell eating mystery meat."

Nathalie went pale. "I don't get the guy? After the fireworks?"

"You get the money but you lose the soul. The author was going for Prestige Drama. It is genuinely terrible for our mental health."

Something shifted in Nathalie's expression. The Senior Project Manager energy came roaring back. She looked at the flash drive in her hand. Then at the crowd of billionaires waiting for us to destroy each other.

"OK," she said, voice dropping into a low, terrifyingly efficient tone. "New plan. We are ditching the Tragic Moral Lesson. If we are stuck in a w******l we are turning it into a Power Couple success story."

I felt the first genuine spark of excitement I'd had since the mushroom incident. "I like where this is going."

"You have the influence," Nathalie said. "You know how to build a narrative, move a crowd, make people love or fear whatever you point them at. I have the business logic. I can dismantle Victoria's hostile takeovers before she even signs the paperwork."

"So instead of me being the villain and you being the victim—"

"We become the Board of Directors." She held out her hand. "I handle the back-end infrastructure and the legal loopholes. You handle public relations and the social destruction of anyone who gets in our way."

I shook it. "The algorithm is going to love us."

— NATHALIE —

James reached us first. He looked ready to physically remove Emma from the postcode.

"Clara." His voice was tight. "Is everything okay? Did she threaten you?"

I looked at Emma. She gave me a tiny conspiratorial wink — the look you give a colleague when you've both decided to quit and start a competing firm.

"Actually James," I said, tucking my arm through Emma's and giving the room my most dazzling corporate-approved smile, "Emma and I just discovered we have a lot in common. Specifically a vision for the future that doesn't involve anyone going to prison."

Victoria arrived a second later looking like she wanted to breathe fire. "Emma. Get away from her. We have a schedule."

Emma adjusted her bag and looked her sister dead in the eye with the composure of a woman who had survived a million cancel culture threads.

"The schedule is being revised, Victoria," she said airily. "Nathalie and I are going to brunch. We have synergies to discuss."

We walked past the stunned crowd — brothers with their jaws on the floor, socialites whispering behind their fans, Pete watching with an expression that had graduated from suspicious to completely baffled.

"By the way," I whispered as we hit the exit. "Can you actually cook? Or was that just for the followers?"

"Nathalie," Emma gasped, genuinely offended. "I am a Michelin-starred disaster. I will make you a pasta that will make you forget your cubicle ever existed."

"Deal," I said. "But we're using my black card. I have points to rack up."

Behind us, from somewhere in the crowd, I heard Ethan's voice float out with total serenity:

"I have absolutely no idea what just happened but I feel like we won something."