Fake Mating To My Ex's Powerful Enemy

Chapter 21: Chapter 21 Haters at Work

Christina’s POV

"A what now?" My brain did a double take and tripped over its own feet.

Savannah’s grin widened. "That moon crystal necklace you designed? The one Eliza Black wore on the red carpet last week? It blew up. Press coverage, socials, even one of those trashy gossip TikToks. Nyx Collective finally went viral, and it’s thanks to you."

Huh. I relaxed. So I wasn’t getting fired today.

"So here’s the deal," she added breezily. "Ten grand. It’ll be in your account by the end of the day."

I nearly hugged her. Nearly. But I settled for a deeply heartfelt thank you and a facial expression that screamed "I suddenly believe in capitalism again."

Back at my desk, I dropped into my chair and tried to act casual. Yes, freelancers got cubicles too at Nyx Collective, mostly for the aesthetic. Which was difficult, because my inner monologue was doing the cha-cha to the sound of incoming funds, and Akira was practically rolling around in imaginary money.

Clearly, word had already spread through the pack-like office grapevine, because no sooner had I logged in than someone from the next desk leaned over and whispered, "I’m so jealous. Ten thousand in one go? I’d sell a kidney for that kind of payday."

"I mean, the studio’s basically mainstream now," another designer piped up, her eyes gleaming with ambition. "We’ve all got a shot at a viral moment."

I gave them a modest little smile. You know the kind you practice in the mirror when you’re trying not to look smug but still want people to know you’re successful. The kind that says "yes, I’m a nobody designer who just landed a big-league payday."

We were having a perfectly nice moment, sharing some office gossip and letting me humblebrag about my bonus. Then a voice behind me sliced through the air like a knife through butter.

"She just got lucky, that’s all. Eliza Black could’ve picked anything. Total fluke."

I looked up and to the left, already bracing myself.

And there she was. Violet Lin. Designer, full-time drama queen, and my not-so-secret workplace nemesis.If I was the designer handbag, she was the knockoff that swore it was "basically the same quality, just different branding.

"Violet had been trying to outdo me since the day I walked into Nyx Collective with a sketchbook. She’d decided I was the obstacle between her and the sparkly throne of Top Designer, and she’d been waging a war ever since.

The second she opened her mouth, the whole room fell quieter than a pack after an Alpha’s growl. Everyone knew Violet and I didn’t mix,like silver and werewolf blood. freeweɓnovel.cѳm

She strutted past me, all clacking stilettos and cloying perfume that made my enhanced senses want to gag.

"Honestly, did any of you see the trending threads? People online are saying Nyx Collective stuff looks cheap now. One necklace, and the brand goes from boutique elegance to bargain bin Barbie."

She tossed her hair.

Right on cue, one of her usual background extras piped up with a helpful echo: "Totally. They’re roasting Eliza, but really they’re dragging the necklace."

Ah, the classic tag-team shade. Subtle as a sledgehammer.

I tossed my pen down and turned, meeting her eyes dead on.

"Literally everyone’s obsessing over her necklace, babe. The reviews are glowing. So I’m genuinely curious—where are you getting this hot take from? Did you maybe confuse her work with something you found at a garage sale? Or are we operating on different definitions of ’good design’ here? Just checking."

The silence was instant. Delicious.

I glanced in the direction of Savannah’s office. "Maybe I should ask Vanna if we’ve got overstaffing issues. Sounds like someone’s got way too much free time and WiFi."

Everyone suddenly discovered their laptops were fascinating and started typing like their lives depended on it. After all, I’d just landed a fat bonus and was firmly in Savannah’s good books. No one with half a brain wanted beef with the boss’s current golden girl.

But Violet Lin wasn’t wired like the rest of us. Her family’s pack had been raking in cash lately, and rumor had it they were expanding their reach.

"Some people really think they’re something just because they got ten grand. I mean, only people who are seriously broke would act like it’s a big deal."

I let out a laugh. "Sure, some people might turn their noses up at ten grand... but then again, their designs aren’t even worth ten bucks. It’s kind of tragic when you think about it, spending your whole life sketching crap no celebrity would be caught dead in. And if my necklace ’lowered the brand’s image’, then someone’s didn’t even make it onto the radar."

Someone behind me snorted hard enough to nearly choke on her iced matcha.

Violet turned the same shade as her lipstick and slammed her coffee cup down. "Excuse me? Are you saying my designs have no class? Just because your little necklace ended up on Eliza Black’s neck? Please. Like I even rate her."

I shrugged. "I didn’t mention any names. Funny how you brought yourself up, though. Bit of a self-drag, no?"

That shut her up real fast.

The office blessedly dipped into sweet, glorious silence. For a total of... what? Ninety seconds, maybe.

Then she was at it again, flapping her gums with the girl next to her like we were on a break in Year 9 homeroom.

"Did you hear?" she said, loud enough to rattle the windows."The Laurent family’s throwing a pack gathering. Word is, the mysterious Alpha himself is making a public appearance. Only the most influential people in high society are invited. And guess who just got an invitation?"

The moment she dropped the Sabreridge bomb, everyone perked up like they were catching their mate’s scent. I swear, one of the interns nearly dislocated her neck trying to lean closer.

Because yeah, the Laurent family basically ran the city. They were The Sabreridge Pack’s ruling family—one of the most powerful packs in the northern territories, controlling the city’s economic lifeline.

Old money going back generations, the kind of wealth that had human society bowing and scraping since their great-great-grandfather’s time. And their current Alpha? He’d gone completely ghost since taking over the pack. Zero public appearances.

Apparently, getting an invite to this pack gathering was harder than getting Taylor Swift tickets during presale. People were shelling out stupid money or calling in favors like it was their final wish on a deathbed.

Violet tilted her chin up, beaming as people gathered around her.

"Some people," she drawled, flicking a look in my direction, "could design the Mona Lisa out of moon crystals and still die broke. They’ll never get a Laurent invite. It’s tragic, really."

She even threw in a couple of pity clucks, like a gossiping aunt at a family reunion. Subtlety was not her strong suit.

I didn’t even blink. Kept right on sketching.

Then my phone dinged.

Ysolde had sent a photo of a dress and a message appeared on my phone,

[Picked out the shiniest, sexiest dress ever. You’re gonna slay that party. Make Niall Granger eat his heart out. MWAH!!!]