Chapter 71

Colette Duvall watched Isabella Montgomery with deep concern.

Anxiety twisted inside her.

What was Isabella planning? Could she perform miracles? This seemed utterly impossible.

Meanwhile, Victoria Kensington sat gracefully upon a flamingo float.

A sweet, practiced smile adorned her face.

She resembled an ethereal fairy, blissfully unaware of the mounting tension.

The avocado green and pink flamingo created a perfect, vibrant contrast.

The aesthetic was so pleasing it almost made one forget the oppressive midsummer heat.

In stark contrast, Isabella wore a voluminous red top paired with a loose, floor-length skirt.

She was completely covered up. Not an inch of skin on her chest or legs was visible.

How could she possibly outperform Victoria like this?

The watching crowd buzzed with curiosity.

Isabella, however, remained utterly nonchalant.

She turned to Victoria, her voice cool. "Are you absolutely certain about this pose? You won't regret it?"

"Of course," Victoria replied, her tone dripping with subtle sarcasm. "Why? Can't you think of anything better?"

Isabella simply sighed, offering no retort.

In one fluid motion, she swung a leg over the same horizontal flamingo.

She settled directly behind Victoria.

The long, heavy skirt restricted her movement, forcing her legs together.

It looked stifling and awkward.

A collective sigh of disappointment rippled through the onlookers. This seemed like a certain loss.

Then, something unexpected happened.

Isabella reached out and firmly placed her hands on Victoria's shoulders.

Her face was a mask of stoic elegance.

She shifted her weight onto her arms, leveraging herself.

The move was executed with shocking grace and precision.

The crowd gasped. Isabella had effectively turned Victoria into a mere prop, a human coffee table.

It was a brilliant, audacious move.

"Let's shoot," Isabella commanded, her voice cutting through the stunned silence.

The photographer jolted back to attention.

He quickly adjusted his viewfinder, lens focusing on the extraordinary pair.

Gabriella Martinez had considered intervening.

But she held back.

Isabella's dress, despite the clever pose, was still overwhelmingly heavy and complex.

Layers of mesh and netting. Who would ever buy it?

Isabella's expression was captivating, fierce.

But Victoria was classically beautiful, photogenic.

This contest was about sales, not just drama.

How could Isabella possibly win?

Gabriella stayed silent.

"Begin!" the photographer called out. "Give me your best!"

He raised his camera, finger poised over the shutter.

In that split second, Isabella used her free hand.

She flung the heavy fabric of her skirt backward with dramatic force.

The shutter clicked, capturing the frozen moment.

The resulting image was breathtaking.

Isabella's body leaned forward over her 'table', her face propped elegantly on one fair hand.

Her gaze into the lens was boldly haughty, utterly commanding.

The ugly, shapeless clothes were transformed.

She made them look expensive, avant-garde.

The skirt, flung back, mimicked the effect of a powerful gust of wind.

Her aura was grandiose, stunningly powerful.

The photographer stared at his screen, breathless. "Perfect! Absolutely perfect!"

No one had imagined a model could salvage such a situation.

Victoria, sitting in front, couldn't see what had happened.

She assumed the praise was for her. She had given her best performance.

"Was it good?" she asked coyly, batting her lashes. "Do you need another shot?"