Chapter 386 The Arrival of Abella
Mr. Bourbon conceded with a sigh, "I suppose I failed to see the grand scheme of things." His tone was light, a hint of joy seeping through his words.
He was unable to contain his delight at the realization that his beloved granddaughter-in-law was set to become a judge. "Once you're finished, we'll make arrangements," he assured her."Of course," Abella replied gently, her voice a soothing balm. "Just remember to take your medication.""Indeed, I'll see to it right away," he responded.
A few days later, the international fashion design competition was in full swing in the heart of Paris, France. Abigail had barely stepped foot into the grand hall when she felt a sharp jostle against her shoulder. "Are you Abigail? The top contender from the another region?" The voice belonged to a blonde, blue-eyed girl who radiated youthful arrogance.
She regarded Abigail with a sneer, flipping her thumb down in a sarcastic gesture. "Trash," she declared.Taken aback, Abigail stammered, "Excuse me?" She was puzzled by the unwarranted hostility that had greeted her so early in the day. "Who are you calling trash?""You and your country are both trash," the girl retorted.Before Abigail could react to such a provocative statement, a cool voice intervened, "Does Russia's education system only produce individuals of your caliber? Is this the representation of your people?"Abigail turned to the source of the voice and gasped inwardly, 'Oh my! It's Abella!' Her emotions surged, a lump forming in her throat. "Abella!" she managed to choke out, her voice thick with feeling.'Oh, I've been so tense lately, especially since arriving alone in France by plane the previous day.
Everything was unfamiliar, and anxiety robbed me of sleep. When I called Abella last night, I shared my burdens. I felt the weight of responsibility as I stepped beyond my country's borders.
It wasn't about seeking personal glory, but at the very least, I couldn't afford to bring shame to my homeland.‘Losing wasn't my fear; what scared me was the thought of others getting a bad impression of America, believing that American design was merely average.‘Abella has been a comforting presence, offering guidance.
And now, here she is, right at the competition site in France!‘Abella must have flown to France overnight to give me the courage I needed,' she thought."You Americans, you have no right to judge us," the blonde girl, Isabella, retorted, casting a scornful glance at Abella before preparing to depart."Today, I do have that right to judge.
Not only that, I can also decide whether you stay or go," Abella declared.Isabella paused, a mocking smile playing on her lips. "And why do you think you can do that?"'This American girl, appearing out of nowhere, must be a competitor representing America.
Abigail was the top-ranked competitor, so was this girl second best? Third?What gave her the right to talk to someone like me, a champion of the Russian region?Her arrogance in claiming to decide my fate was laughable,' Isabella mused."Let's see how you plan to decide my fate," Isabella challenged, standing her ground, arms crossed defiantly over her chest, ready to watch Abella make a spectacle of herself.
Without missing a beat, Abella pulled out her phone and dialed a number. "Savannah, meet me at the main entrance," she instructed.Isabella's piercing blue eyes widened at the mention of the name. 'How could this girl possibly know Savannah, let alone have her contact information?
It was common knowledge that the top three Russian sector contestants were led by the head of the Russian Fashion Association, Savannah, to participate in today's international design competition.Was the girl bluffing with knowledge of Savannah's involvement?' she wondered.
Before Isabella could voice her skepticism, Savannah hastened towards them. She greeted Abella with a warm embrace and a firm handshake, addressing her as "Master" with a tone of utmost respect.
Isabella, taken aback, had no inkling of who this girl was. However, anyone who could command such respect from the typically aloof Savannah was clearly no ordinary individual."Master, is there an issue here?" Savannah inquired in fluent English.
Her gaze shifted to Isabella, standing awkwardly to the side. Switching to Russian, her tone took on a stern edge as she demanded to know if Isabella had caused any offense to the Master."Testing skills against one another is acceptable, but escalating it to a national level shows a disregard for the friendship between our nations," she chided.Upon hearing this, Savannah grasped the gravity of the situation."The contestants present today are all top three from their respective countries, representing not just their design skills but the face of their nations.
However, I fail to see the proper etiquette and composure that your country stands for in this participant, and I even believe she is unfit to be here.""I'm sorry, Master. I'm really, really sorry." Savannah seemed to comprehend the situation and turned to Isabella, her tone stern, "Apologize right now!""Sorry." Isabella hadn't expected this girl to wield such influence, enough to make Savannah this anxious.
Abella raised an eyebrow, scrutinizing the girl before her, "When you were hurling insults earlier, I thought your English was pretty good?"Isabella understood the implication and could only apologize again, "I'm sorry for offending you earlier.""You certainly did," Abella said, her gaze unwavering. "And yet, you've forgotten someone."Reluctantly, Isabella turned to Abigail and muttered another, "Sorry.""Isabella, right?" Abigail stared into her eyes, her hands clenched into fists, and vowed, "Just wait and see what trash really looks like.""You..." Isabella swallowed her anger, not wanting to cause more trouble, but the feud had been set.
As they prepared to leave, Abigail hugged Abella tightly, "Oh, Abella, thank goodness you're here! I feel so much better with you around. But it's Friday. Did you ask for a leave?"Abella confessed, "I didn't ask for a leave.""Oh, right, the school gives you special treatment. Even if you skip a whole semester, they wouldn't say a word."'How lucky! That's the kind of privilege a straight-A student receives,' Abigail thought."Go join the others. The competition is about to start." Abella added, "Don't be nervous.
Just treat it like any other day, and by the way, there's a surprise waiting, so don't be too shocked.""A surprise? What kind of surprise?" Abigail was curious, wondering if Abella had brought some kind of secret advantage from her trip to France."Just go get ready," Abella said with a cryptic smile."Alright, I won't be surprised! I've weathered many storms.
Nothing can shake me."With a confidence that was almost contagious, Abigail went to join her team, completely oblivious to the unexpected blow that was about to come her way.
Backstage, a woman in her early thirties from another country approached Abigail, "Are you the top contestant from the American region, Abigail?
I'm Paige, and I hope you'll remember my name."Abigail, sensing the hostility, maintained her composure and asked, "Is there a problem?"Paige looked down her nose and said arrogantly, "I pulled some strings to get the video of your last competition. Honestly, I think your assistant had more talent than you."
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