The Power of Perception
952 Words
The morning’s calm was shattered by the unmistakable chime of an incoming call.
Alina didn’t flinch. She took a slow sip of her espresso before glancing at the screen.
Vivienne Leclerc.
The editor-in-chief of Haute Sphere. Not just any fashion magazine—the magazine. The one that dictated industry trends, decided who was relevant, and, on occasion, who was dispensable.
She answered with practiced ease.
“Vivienne.”
“Alina,” came the Frenchwoman’s smooth voice. “I imagine you’ve seen the cover?”
Alina hadn’t yet, but the way Vivienne said it told her everything. Without a word, she turned to her computer, opened Haute Sphere’s digital edition, and there it was.
A glossy, high-contrast cover.
“The Future of Fashion: Who Will Reign Supreme?”
Below the bold, provocative headline were two side-by-side profiles. On the left, her own face—sharp cheekbones, poised expression, the embodiment of controlled power. And on the right? Isla Vanderbilt.
Alina’s lips barely moved, but there was something colder in her gaze.
Vivienne exhaled dramatically. “It seems our industry is looking for its next great narrative.”
Alina leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other as she studied the younger woman’s image. Isla Vanderbilt—the twenty-nine-year-old heiress to one of America’s oldest wealth dynasties. A recent darling of the media, new to the fashion game but dangerous nonetheless.
For months, there had been whispers. Isla had been moving aggressively—poaching talent from established houses, securing lucrative partnerships, and most recently, launching a couture line meant to challenge Élan’s dominance. Now, with Haute Sphere amplifying the story, the whispers had become a full-blown narrative.
Alina let the silence stretch before speaking.
“I assume you didn’t approve this headline?”
Vivienne let out a quiet laugh. “You know better. But media thrives on rivalry, non?”
“Indeed.”
“I called because, well, you and I both know what this means,” Vivienne continued. “Isla is being positioned as your successor. The new force to watch. And while she’s nowhere near your level, the industry loves a fresh face.
She’s young, ambitious, and a Vanderbilt.”
Ambitious.
Alina’s gaze lingered on Isla’s image.
She had no issue with ambition. But what Isla had was something else—entitlement. A woman born into power, handed the best of everything without earning it. That didn’t make her a rival. It made her a nuisance.
“And?” Alina asked, her voice betraying nothing.
“And I’d like an exclusive,” Vivienne admitted.
“Something before the press gets carried away with their fantasies.”
There it was.
Vivienne was no fool. She saw the storm coming and wanted to be the first to get Alina’s side of the story before the narrative ran wild.
Alina took another sip of her espresso, letting the bitterness settle on her tongue.
“Not yet,” she said finally.
Vivienne hummed in thought. “Not worried?”
Alina’s lips curved slightly. “If I were worried, I’d be reacting.”
Vivienne chuckled. “I suppose I should have known better.”
“You should have.”
A pause. Then, “Fine. But you will give me something soon, oui?”
Alina didn’t confirm or deny. She only ended the call with a smooth, “We’ll talk.”
As she set her phone down, Juliette entered, walking with her usual crisp efficiency.
“Let me guess,” Juliette said, already pulling up the Haute Sphere cover on her tablet. She placed it on the desk, the glossy image staring back at them.
Alina gestured toward it. “Thoughts?”
Juliette studied the image, her sharp eyes assessing. “They’re baiting you.”
Alina smirked. “And they’ll be disappointed.”
Juliette exhaled through her nose. “Isla is trying to use you as a stepping stone. They all do, eventually.”
She wasn’t wrong. Over the years, plenty of new names had tried to make their mark by positioning themselves against her. Some had been talented, some had been strategic, but none had lasted. Élan wasn’t built on fleeting relevance. It was built on permanence.
Still, the timing was calculated. Isla’s new couture line was launching in two months, and the press was already fanning the flames.
If Alina played this wrong, it could give Isla a level of legitimacy she hadn’t earned.
Juliette sat down across from her. “What’s the move?”
Alina’s fingers drummed lightly against the marble surface of her desk.
“They want a war,” she murmured. “So we’ll give them something else.”
Juliette raised a brow.
Alina turned toward her computer and clicked into Élan’s internal portal. She scrolled through the latest campaign reports, the upcoming winter collection, and most importantly, the numbers.
Then she smiled.
“We announce the Élan Expansion Initiative.”
Juliette’s gaze sharpened. “Paris?”
“And London.” Alina met her assistant’s eyes.
“The moment the industry starts debating the future, we remind them who owns it.”
Juliette’s lips parted slightly before a smirk of her own formed. “Brilliant.”
Alina closed the magazine tab and leaned back in her chair.
The media had a habit of chasing new stories. If she gave them a better one—one that wasn’t about Isla Vanderbilt but about her—they’d abandon their latest fixation in an instant.
Let Isla have her little feature. Let the press salivate over the idea of competition.
By the time her expansion news broke, the conversation wouldn’t be about Isla anymore.
It would be about Alina Carter.
And in the world of power, perception wasn’t just important.
It was everything.
- Writer
