18 Chapter 18 - Runway Renewal 18 Chapter 18 - Runway Renewal The old shipyard smelled of rust, salt, and dreams. 1 Ardent Luxe's summer show was unlike anything the fashion world had seen. The derelict dock had been transformed into a gleaming runway-flooded ankle-deep with water, lit from beneath to reflect sky and silhouette alike. Lina Hart stood backstage, headset slung around her neck, clipboard in hand, barefoot in the shallows. Her eyes moved from model to model, checking drape, posture, intention. "Are you sure about walking through water?" a stylist asked nervously. Lina nodded. "We were meant to walk through everything." The theme was **Rescue and Renewal**. And it pulsed through every hemline. The first model emerged beneath the spotlight, the water rippling around her ankles. She wore a coat stitched from recycled sails, fitted at the waist, flowing like a tide behind her. Then came silk dyed with storm-kissed kelp. Boning from salvaged steel. Sleeves draped like wind-blown flags. The crowd gasped. Critics leaned forward. And social media exploded. >"It's like watching pain reformed into power." > "Eco-luxury meets emotional exorcism." > "This isn't fashion. It's forgiveness." 10:16 1/5 < 18 Chapter 18 - Runway Renewal Backstage, Bruce slipped in quietly, dressed in black, a small earpiece in place. He didn't hover. Just watched Lina work. "She's a conductor," one of the lighting techs whispered, awed. He smiled to himself. He'd always known. Midway through the show, a courier arrived. Envelope. Stamped. Correctional Facility Return Address. Lina opened it quietly, scanning the brief letter. Mason had signed over his remaining Rutherford shares-not to her, but to the **Designs of Healing Foundation**. No plea. No apology. Just an act. She folded the paper and tucked it into her sketchbook. Not a wound reopened. Just a thread finally tied off. - The finale approached. The lights dimmed. The crowd hushed. And then-Lina stepped onto the runway. She didn't walk. 10:16 < 18 Chapter 18 - Runway Renewal She arrived*. Wearing a gown of mirrored silk and sheer reclaimed netting. It reflected the water, the lights, the faces. It reflected *everything*. The past. The pain. The survival. The applause rose like thunder. Bruce joined her at the end of the runway. They didn't pose. They didn't speak. They simply stood-hand in hand-ankle-deep in water, washed in light. Later, fireworks bloomed over the city, scattering crimson and gold across the shipyard's shimmering pool. Someone offered a toast. Champagne corks popped. Journalists typed furiously. But Lina stood at the edge of the dock, watching the sparks vanish into the black water. Behind her, Bruce's arm slid gently around her waist. "You did it," he murmured. She turned toward him, smile blooming slow and sure. "No," she said. "*We* did." And for once, that "we" didn't cost her anything. It felt earned. In the crowd, fashion editors whispered, already labeling the collection: > "Tidal Reclamation." 10:16 < 18 Chapter 18 - Runway Renewal > "Waterproofed Womanhood." > "The Siren Speaks." But Lina wasn't speaking for attention. She was speaking to the version of herself who once drifted at sea, half-alive, forgotten. Tonight, that girl saw herself reflected. And smiled back. When the final model stepped off the runway, soaking and triumphant, Bruce handed Lina a towel and whispered: "You made a world that wouldn't let you drown again." She nodded, tears threatening. But not from sadness. From arrival. The cameras clicked. The critics raved. But Lina Hart only cared about one reflection: The one staring up from the rippling water. Whole. Honest. Home.