"What can I gain?"
Hearing that Georgina Chapman didn't immediately reject his proposal, Martin understood one thing clearly—so-called "years of hard work" always has a price.
"You'll become Miranda's Vice President and Creative Director," Martin said. "At the same time, you'll receive 5% of Miranda's shares. Although you'll hold the title of Vice President, you'll have full presidential authority. Miranda's current president, Kerr, is still in the learning phase and won't interfere with your decision-making."
Martin was serious about poaching Georgina Chapman.
With Miranda's rapid growth, Miranda Kerr's abilities were no longer sufficient to steer the fast-expanding juggernaut. After all, before Martin handed her this career, she had merely been a small-time model. Even with her dedication to learning, it would take time for her to grow into the role.
What Miranda needed now was a seasoned helmswoman—someone bold, strategic, and effective.
And in Martin's eyes, Georgina Chapman was the perfect fit.
First, Marchesa hadn't yet fully risen. At this stage, the brand had only just gained a foothold in the fashion and entertainment industries—still fragile, still breakable. It hadn't yet become the second-tier player threatening to enter the ranks of the elite.
Second, Georgina was truly talented. Not only was she skilled in management and design—Marchesa's founding designers were her and her close friend Karen Craig—but she'd also taught herself finance. She was an all-rounder.
Third, she had impressive social reach. Even after Harvey's downfall and her divorce, Georgina's ties to Hollywood never truly faded. The parties she hosted would eventually become must-attend events for celebrities.
And finally—yes, Martin admitted it—she was stunning. Incubus are visual creatures, and when given a choice, Martin always preferred working with attractive talent. Even if she did nothing at all, she'd still be pleasing to the eye.
Georgina sat in silence, clearly weighing Martin's proposal with care.
Martin leaned forward, voice low and persuasive. "You've seen how fast Miranda is growing. That 5% is worth around ten million now—but in under a decade, it could multiply tenfold. Maybe even a hundredfold. And if you're the one behind that growth, I promise the sense of accomplishment will be even greater than founding Marchesa."
"My goal is to turn Miranda into a top-tier luxury brand. That's not something Marchesa can realistically achieve. But think about it—one day, you could be the president of a brand that rivals Burberry or Dior. The power, the prestige—it would all be at your fingertips."
Martin's words were laced with temptation.
And Georgina was clearly wavering.
Martin pressed on: "All it takes is divorcing that sorry excuse of a husband. What do you really lose? As I hear it, Harvey's performance in that area hasn't exactly been stellar lately. Needs some... unconventional help to get going, doesn't he? You really want to stay tied to that for life?"
"If you agree, I'll release the photos and videos about Harvey. The world will see him for what he is. Your divorce won't invite moral backlash—it'll win you public sympathy."
Martin's persuasion was relentless.
In just a few sentences, Georgina had gone from uncertain... to tempted... to excited.
"Ms. Chapman, this opportunity won't come again. If you say no, I'll simply find someone else. You're not the only one who fits the role."
"Call me Georgina," she said.
Martin smiled.
"You've made your decision then?"
"Yes. I agree," she said simply. "But I have a condition. I'll take the role of Vice President, but I want my partner to be the Creative Director."
"Oh? Karen Craig?"
"Yes. She's more talented than I am in design. And I'll have other matters to handle."
"No problem."
Martin agreed readily. Karen Craig was also a gifted designer—one who would go on to win the New York Fashion Week Design Award. Sure, she was average-looking, but her skill more than made up for it.
…
While Martin was making deals with Georgina Chapman, the six-person surveillance team from News of the World was witnessing something entirely different.
On their monitor, it looked as if Georgina had kissed Martin the moment she entered. Then, the two disappeared into the bedroom, whispering sultry things to each other.
Eric quickly zoomed in on the bedroom camera.
And then, the six of them sat back to enjoy what turned out to be an intensely athletic... encounter.
An hour later, the performance ended.
Eric slapped the table and grinned. "Gentlemen, we're rich."
Adelaide, his longest-serving teammate, chuckled. "We're getting two houses out of this. Both Martin and Harvey will have to pay. Big time. Or we release the footage."
Joyce and Harper looked elated. They were already fantasizing about a luxurious early retirement.
Eric wasn't one to sit on gold.
Or rather—huge potential blackmail.
"I'm going to make multiple copies of the tape right now. I'll hit up Harvey first—he'll be easier to shake down."
"Adelaide, Howard, Zaire—you three stay and keep monitoring Martin."
"Joyce, Harper, come with me. Let's cash in."
…
Back in Martin's room.
Gordon returned after seeing Georgina off.
"It was Harvey's biggest mistake, offending you," he said.
Martin laughed. "That fat bastard thought the storm had passed. Turns out he's still up to his old tricks. According to Quentin, he personally paid News of the World to follow me—to secretly take pictures and videos of me and girls. What a joke. I think it's time I gave him a taste of his own medicine."
Martin suspected Harvey had figured out that he was behind his most recent scandals, especially involving Nicole. If so, this might all be retaliation.
But then again, Martin didn't need proof.
If you mess with me—I will destroy you.
His eyes scanned the room discreetly.
He smiled.
…
Early the next morning.
Harvey got a call from Eric.
"What? You got footage of Martin banging someone? Wottafuck—so fast? Seriously?"
He leapt out of bed.
Then, practically yelling into the phone, "That's amazing! What are you waiting for? Get it out there now! Don't worry, I'll send the rest of your payment."
"Oh—and make a few copies. I want one for… personal viewing."
"What? An interview?"
"Sure, sure. I'm in New York, Four Seasons Hotel. Room's under my name."