Shadows of the Game

The ballroom shimmered with golden light, casting soft reflections off the marble floors, as laughter and conversation flowed like champagne. Logan Montgomery stood at the center, surrounded by the fashion elite. Cameras flashed, capturing his every smirk as he fielded questions from eager reporters. His latest triumph—the gown behind him—was the star of the evening, the centerpiece of the newest Montgomery-Wilde collection.

Except it wasn’t his creation.

From a darkened corner, I watched, as a ghost in the crowd. This was how it always was—Logan in the limelight, accepting praise for designs that weren't his, for work that wasn’t his. My work, to be precise.

Montgomery-Wilde was our brand—except the world seemed to forget that the "Wilde" half of the name existed. No one cared to know who really created the gowns that graced the runways. They only cared about the show, the name, the charm of the man at the front. Logan had always been good at playing the game. But I had learned to move in the shadows.

It wasn’t always like this between us. There was a time, not so long ago, when Logan and I built everything together. From the cramped garage where we stitched our first collections by hand, to the glittering world of high fashion that now surrounded him—us. He had charm, and I had talent. It was the perfect balance, or so I thought. I didn’t mind that he stood in the spotlight; he was the face, the voice, and I preferred the quiet of creation. But as we grew, so did his ego. His hunger for power and recognition consumed everything and everyone, including me.

First, it was the subtle shift in conversations. At press conferences, I was slowly edged out of interviews, my voice drowned out by Logan’s smooth rhetoric. Then, came the social media accounts—once shared between us—gradually morphing into a platform for Logan alone. The final straw came when he took sole credit for the designs we both knew I had spent endless nights perfecting. Every intricate stitch, every inspired detail—mine. Yet, the press only had eyes for him. They didn’t care to dig deeper. They believed the façade he so expertly crafted.

My suspicions began one day in the studio when Logan, unusually stressed, was dealing with a delayed fabric delivery for a big client. While searching for the fabric, he took an investor call on speaker about a new gown feature—pockets, which had been my design. Instead of deferring to me, standing just two feet away, he said, “I’ll have to check my plans and get back to you.” When I questioned him afterward, he snapped, “Well, you should have spoken up if it bothers you so much.”

I brushed my fingers over the silk of my gown, feeling the hours I had poured into its design. The gown that stood proudly behind Logan, receiving all the accolades—that was mine too. He knew it. I knew it. But the world? The world only saw him. For now.

I hadn’t always minded staying in the background. When we started Montgomery-Wilde, it was a shared dream. But as the brand grew, Logan’s charm outshone the truth. His name, his face became the brand, while I was the silent force behind the scenes, sketching, sewing, creating.

He didn’t think I knew about the backdoor meetings with investors, or the conversations where he undermined my contributions, calling me "the support" to his "genius." The whispers about "streamlining" the business, "simplifying" the leadership—code for cutting me out of my own company. He was building a future that didn’t include me, and tonight, he had the gall to announce it publicly. The audience didn’t bat an eyelash. They believed him, as they always had.

But tonight, for the first time, the truth would unravel in real time. And I was here for it. Uninvited.

But shadows can be powerful. And tonight, they were my weapon.

Maggie, Logan’s assistant, wanting to be as far away from the fallout publicly, yet eager for Logan to pay for his actions, whispered to a few guests “Have you by chance seen Avery Wilde? Logan needs her”. This raised eyebrows as people started whispering amongst each other, realizing that I wasn’t there - or so they thought. But I was here, lurking in the shadows.

Logan was arriving at the podium now, my heartbeat was steady, but my hands tingle with anticipation of what was to come as his polished speech glided effortlessly across the room. The crowd hung on his every word as he praised "his" latest collection, the "next chapter" of Montgomery-Wilde. He spoke of the creative vision and the new direction of the brand—how it was his direction now. 

“I wanted to thank you all for attending the Gala this evening. This Gala marks a very important moment for Montgomery-Wilde. Changes are being made that will make Montgomery-Wilde an even better company, which will allow for more luxurious gowns.” Logan said, opening the speech strong. "The most noticeable change you will see will be branding.” Logan continued. “We will be offering a bigger catalog of items. The most noticeable difference you will see is the brand name. Instead of Montgomery-Wilde, we will now be simply ‘Montgomery.’ While you will know us under our new name, you will also see that our quality will not change. We do and always will have a quality-first mindset.” Logan's voice carried through the room. I felt a chill; his words were clear and final. That was it. He had cut ties with me, officially, as though I had never existed.

As he spoke, my mind went back to the echoes of those backdoor meetings, the ones where 'streamlining' the business and ‘simplifying the leadership’  had really meant cutting me out...

The buzz began at the edges of the room, a ripple that spread like smoke, growing thicker with every passing moment. Phone screens lit up one by one, their faces illuminated by the headlines breaking across every major outlet. I had made sure of it.

"MONTGOMERY-WILDE SCANDAL: Avery Wilde’s Explosive Exit and Logan Montgomery’s Deceit Revealed."

"Creative Director Avery Wilde Exposes Logan Montgomery: The Real Mind Behind the Gowns."

"Montgomery-Wilde Meltdown: Emails Prove Logan Montgomery’s Lies, Avery Wilde’s Disappearing Act Explained."

Emails, contracts, sketches—all the evidence that had been buried under Logan’s lies was now public. For weeks, I had worked in silence, moving carefully through the shadows of the company we built together. I didn’t confront him directly when I overheard his plans to cut me out. No, that would have been too simple. Instead, I devised my own plan, one that required precision, timing, and the help of those Logan underestimated—like Maggie.

Maggie, this absolute gem of a woman, had been instrumental. Like me, she had been overlooked—treated as a tool rather than a person. Logan never cared to notice her outside of her ability to make coffee and manage his calendar, but I saw her. I saw the way she moved quietly through the office, taking in everything, absorbing details no one else noticed. I saw her intelligence, her quiet strength.

It started small—a shared glance during one of Logan’s endless meetings, where he belittled her in front of investors for failing to pick all of the red M&Ms out of the decorative bowl in the meeting room. She never forgot, of course. She was simply too busy running around ensuring his calendar ran smooth and that all of his hundreds of calls were taken care of. That moment sparked a silent understanding between us, one that grew over time into a quiet alliance.

Maggie had access to everything. She was Logan’s shadow, handling his correspondences, managing the accounts, overseeing files—files Logan had no idea she was smart enough to understand, let alone decode. For weeks, she sifted through years of emails, contracts, and financial records, uncovering every lie he had told, every move he had made behind my back. Every instance of financial misappropriation. Maggie was impeccable. The real Montgomery-Wilde story lay hidden in those documents, and Maggie helped bring them to light.

But her involvement would forever remain in the shadows for her own protection of course. Logan and the rest of the world could never know of her role in the takedown. I promised her that much. She was too valuable to be exposed. Too clever to risk. Her protection was my top priority, and she trusted me with her part of the plan. The evidence she provided was my weapon, but Maggie herself? She was untouchable. And I would protect her at all costs.

As soon as I informed her of Logan’s plan over a work coffee, we developed a system. She passed me the files carefully, subtly—sometimes slipped into my bag during the rush of a morning meeting, other times through encrypted messages under the guise of innocuous office memos that we both knew Logan never bothered to read. Maggie had mastered the art of being invisible, just like me. Together, we moved in the shadows, orchestrating the fall of the man who thought we were nothing more than his tools.

And tonight, it all came crashing down.

Every headline that flashed across the room, every email leaked, every contract exposed—all of it was thanks to Maggie’s quiet rebellion. She had been Logan’s most trusted assistant, but her loyalty had never belonged to him. Not truly. It belonged to justice. To me. And now, the truth was out.

But no one would ever know. Not the press. Not the public. Not Logan. Maggie would remain in the shadows, where she could continue to thrive, protected from the fallout that was about to consume Logan's world in the coming months.

As Logan's face grew pale with realization, as the crowd buzzed with the shocking revelations, I caught Maggie’s eye from across the room. She was standing by the bar, her expression unreadable, her face as calm as always. She raised her glass slightly in my direction—a small, subtle gesture. It was the only acknowledgment we would allow ourselves tonight. Any more, and it might draw suspicion.

Maggie had done her part. She had handed me the evidence, and now, I would handle the fallout. Logan would never know. He’d search for the source of the leaks, of course—he’d try to uncover how this had happened, how I had exposed his lies so thoroughly. But he would never find her. She was too careful, too smart. And I would never betray her. As I turned back to the unraveling chaos, I felt a surge of gratitude for the woman who had stood beside me, silently, invisibly, through it all. 

Logan faltered mid-sentence, clearly thrown off by the growing buzz interrupting his speech. A reporter raised her hand, cutting through the tension with a question that echoed across the room:

"Logan, care to comment on the allegations that Montgomery-Wilde designs were never your own?"

“Logan, what about the alleged mishandling of funds? Is it true?” asked another reporter. 

“What?” Logan blinked, his polished façade slipping for the first time. Someone else called out, “Check your phone.”

He did, pulling it from his pocket, and the look of confusion that flashed across his face was priceless. I watched closely as the panic set in, his eyes scanning the headlines, each new one worse than the last. His grip on the phone tightened, his knuckles turning white as his world unraveled before him.

I could almost hear his thoughts, feel the gears spinning in his mind as he tried to piece together what had just happened while simultaneously trying to find a way out of this while holding onto his reputation.. His carefully cultivated image, the world he had built on lies and stolen credit, was shattering—and there was no saving it now. He was drowning, and the crowd, once so eager to bask in his glow, was now devouring the scandal that would ruin him.

"Wilde's Comeback: The True Visionary of Montgomery-Wilde Speaks Out After Years of Silence."

“FBI raids Montgomery-Wilde’s corporate offices during Gala after allegations of embezzlement and tax evasion from an unnamed source”

The whispers in the ballroom grew louder, a wildfire of gossip spreading through the crowd. The same people who had smiled and clapped minutes earlier were now glued to their screens, consuming every word of the scandal unfolding in real time. The cameras were no longer trained on Logan—they were on the story, on the truth.

I caught Logan’s eye across the room. His expression was a mixture of confusion, fear, and anger. He had never seen this coming. But then, why would he? He had never realized that while he played his game in the light, I had been strategizing in the shadows, crafting a revenge that was both precise and undeniable.

I offered him a small, satisfied smile, then turned toward the exit. I didn’t need to say a word. The truth was out now, and that was all I had ever wanted. 

Revenge wasn’t about grand confrontations. It was about justice. And tonight, justice had been served—quietly, meticulously, from the shadows.

As I stepped out into the cool night air, I felt the weight of betrayal lift from my shoulders. The cameras flashed behind me, but for once, they weren’t for Logan’s fluff pieces. They were for the consequences of his actions. 

I smiled to myself, breathing in the crisp night air. Logan would fall, and I didn’t need to watch. I had my own future to create—one where I would never need to hide in the shadows again. After all, revenge is a dish best served cold.