Betrayed and Claimed by the Lycan King Chapter 304

Isolde's POV

The second place finish in the first round of the Fashion Design Competition should have filled me with confidence. Hell, it *had* filled me with confidence - until the second round began.

Now my stomach felt like it was doing gymnastics routines, and I was trying my hardest to keep my internal organs from staging a revolt and tumbling right out of my body.

*"Don't worry,"* Lyra's voice echoed in my mind, warm and reassuring. *"Our design talent is unmatched. You need to believe in yourself more."*

Easy for her to say. She didn't have to stand in front of industry legends and pray they wouldn't demolish two years of rebuilding my reputation with a single scathing comment.

"You look like you're radiating confidence today," Holden said as we walked toward the competition hall. "All fired up and ready to go."

I glanced at him, managing a smile despite the anxiety clawing at my chest. "You really think so?"

"Hell yes. You've got this confidence aura practically glowing around you. It's honestly great to see you like this."

His enthusiasm was infectious, and I felt some of the tension ease from my shoulders. "Why? Thank you. Are you possibly the most thoughtful brother in the world?"

Holden grinned and quickened his pace. "Obviously I know that. Your life would be incomplete without me."

Then he was walking ahead, leaving me shaking my head at his retreating form.

"Typical Holden style!" I muttered.

A sharp voice cut through the morning air ahead of me. "Well, look who's here."

I stopped walking and straightened my spine as three female designers approached, their smiles about as genuine as a knockoff designer bag. I recognized the hostility radiating from them immediately - it was the same energy I'd dealt with countless times in the Moon Alliance Program.

The three women stopped in front of me, crossing their arms over their chests in identical poses of challenge. The blonde one looked me up and down with obvious disdain, while the brunette stared directly into my eyes, jealousy practically dripping from her gaze.

*Do I have some kind of trouble magnet attached to me?* I wondered. There always seemed to be people who couldn't wait to see me fail.

"Can I help you with something?" I asked calmly.

"That confidence sparkling in your eyes must be from your ranking in the first round," one of them said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Second place got you feeling pretty good about yourself?"

I laughed lightly. "What? Am I not allowed to feel happy about performing well in a professional competition?"

The blonde designer stepped forward, her smile turning vicious. "Good performance? Is that how you're justifying it to yourself? You honestly think you created something worthy of that ranking?"

"Are you suggesting that the judges showed poor judgment by selecting what you consider a mediocre design as second place out of thirty entries?" I raised an eyebrow. "These are top industry experts we're talking about."

"What I'm saying," the brunette interjected, "is that we all know the only reason you got that ranking is because of your relationship with Silver Moon Group's CEO, Ezra. You're his mistress!"

The accusation hung in the air like a slap. My eyes flashed.

"So what?" I said, tilting my head. "Even if I did have a relationship with Silver Moon Group's CEO, what exactly would that change?"

I knew what they really thought - that Ezra had somehow rigged the competition for me. But they didn't have proof, and they wouldn't dare make that accusation directly. Accusing the Lycan King of corruption without evidence was a death sentence.

"Your designs were absolutely terrible!" the brunette snapped. "You and your entire Liberty Designs team didn't deserve second place. Other people did better work than you!"

"Like you, for instance?" I smiled, letting steel creep into my voice. "The one whose design Mr. Wright called 'trash'? You must be joking."

I watched with satisfaction as her eyes darted away and her face turned an interesting shade of pale. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, and for a moment I almost hoped she'd take a swing at me. It would give me the perfect excuse to show her exactly what someone trained in werewolf combat could do.

"If you don't stop these pathetic little games and focus on improving your design skills for this round," I said, "I guarantee you'll be going home with even more disappointment today. Now, if you don't mind, I need to go meet with my team members."

The three women were blocking my path, but I started walking forward anyway, my posture making it clear I had no intention of backing down. Reluctantly, they stepped aside to let me pass.

As I walked through the suddenly quiet hall, I noticed that everyone had stopped to watch our exchange. Some people were even holding up their phones, probably recording the whole thing.

This didn't surprise me. I'd lived through worse scrutiny in the Moon Alliance Program. I kept my head high and my stride confident, feeling proud of how I'd handled myself. I refused to bow to anyone who tried to intimidate me.

The judges entered the main hall moments later, including the legendary Jeremy Wright himself. My attention sharpened as they announced the second round challenge.

"Night wears," one of them called out. "Sleepwear and evening gowns. Three different designs, three hours, modeled and presented. Same rules as before."

My mind immediately started racing with possibilities. Silver silk that would catch the light like moonbeams, flowing fabrics that would move like shadows...

*"Think about moonlight on silver silk,"* Lyra whispered, and I felt inspiration beginning to flow.

Three hours later, I stood next to my models, my heart hammering as I watched Mr. Wright make his rounds. Time had flown by like minutes instead of hours, and now we faced judgment.

His critiques were brutal. I watched several designers break down in tears as he delivered his assessments with surgical precision.

Then he approached the brunette who had confronted me earlier - the same woman whose design had been called a trash yesterday.

"Do you think this competition is some kind of joke?" Wright asked, his voice calm but carrying the weight of absolute authority.

My breath caught in my throat. Even though she was my antagonist, I didn't want to watch anyone suffer this kind of public humiliation.

The entire hall fell silent as Wright examined her designs with an expression of complete disgust. When he turned back to face her, my heart sank for her despite everything.

The tension in the room was suffocating. Everyone watched as Wright's face darkened with displeasure.

*This is going to be bad.*

"You are disqualified!" Wright's voice echoed through the silent hall.

A chill ran down my spine, and every muscle in my body tensed.

*Just like that? No explanation, no second chance?*