Eric and Adelaide listened closely to the conversation between Martin and Gordon.
At the same time, the recording equipment was running, the twin discs spinning slowly as they captured every word of Martin's voice.
Unfortunately, after a full hour, nothing remotely exciting had come through.
Disappointed, Eric and Adelaide passed the headphones to Joyce and Harper, then went back to eating.
Georgina Chapman stepped into the Grand Kempinski Hotel, wearing large black-rimmed glasses and a baseball cap to disguise herself.
She didn't linger in the lobby but walked straight to the elevator and pressed the button for the 12th floor, glancing down at the note in her hand.
A few seconds later, the high-speed elevator delivered her to her destination.
Exiting the elevator, Georgina followed the numbers down the hallway and knocked on the designated door.
"Eric, come quick—someone's knocking on Martin's door!" Joyce called out.
Eric dropped his dinner plate and rushed over. "Room service?"
"No idea. Wait—maybe it's that guy Gordon? He's going to open the door."
"Holy shit, it's a woman. Can anyone recognize her face?"
Eric lowered his voice, excitement bubbling in his tone.
The woman on the screen took off her baseball cap and removed her glasses.
"She doesn't look like a celebrity. A call girl, maybe?" Eric muttered.
"Wait a sec..." Adelaide's eyes widened as she pointed at the monitor. "I've seen her before. That's Georgina Chapman—Harvey's wife!"
"No way!" Eric was stunned.
"I'm positive. I never forget a face," Adelaide insisted confidently.
Eric's jaw dropped. A second later, he burst into laughter.
"Holy hell—ha! This just keeps getting better! Harvey gives us intel to catch Martin in a compromising photo, and instead, his own wife shows up on the feed! Hahaha!"
The entire group broke into uncontrollable laughter. The irony was just too rich.
Did that old pig Harvey even know his wife was having an affair with Martin?
Georgina stepped into the room and instantly recognized the man sitting on the sofa.
"What... how could it be him?"
She paused, but then quickly recalled the bad blood between her husband and this man, and the initial confusion began to melt away.
"Martin, what's the meaning of this? You really think sending me that stuff is going to make me divorce Harvey? Come on—Hollywood couples having separate lives isn't exactly headline news."
She went on the offensive immediately.
Martin rose with a smile. "Ms. Chapman, why don't we sit down and talk?"
Georgina marched forward, feigning indignation, and took a seat on the sofa.
Only once she was seated did Martin continue. "Ms. Chapman, you know very well that Harvey and I don't exactly get along. So when someone gave me that tape, I figured—why not make use of it?"
His bluntness caught Georgina off guard, though she was still confused. "But why send it to me? If you wanted a big scandal, the media would've made more sense. Don't tell me you seriously thought I'd storm out and start a war with Harvey. Dream on."
To her, this was all crude and childish—vulgar and unimaginative.
Martin chuckled and shook his head. "Not at all. I simply wanted you to see Harvey for who he really is. That's all. Of course... I do hope you'll divorce him eventually."
Georgina snorted in derision.
Martin continued, unbothered, "But it's not just to spite him. There's a business opportunity here—one involving hundreds of millions. And I want to work with you, Ms. Chapman. But I don't want Harvey benefitting from it. As far as I know, you two didn't sign a prenup, did you?"
Georgina said nothing, but her silence confirmed it.
Martin pressed on. "I've heard you've always dreamed of turning Marchesa into a luxury brand on par with Chanel or Burberry. But let's be honest—Harvey's clout only got you so far. He turned Marchesa into a red-carpet label, yes, but to truly break into the top-tier fashion elite? He's not the guy."
Georgina's expression didn't change, but she gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.
Then she asked coldly, "So what's your proposal?"
"I wonder... have you heard of the Miranda brand?"
Her eyes flickered. Of course she had.
Miranda had exploded onto the scene. Its momentum was far greater than Marchesa's. In under a year, it had become fashion's rising star.
Their model lineup had dazzled at New York's Summer Fashion Week, grabbing cover features in elite magazines like EliteStyles and Vogue.
More than that, Miranda was swiftly carving out a chunk of red carpet real estate, even poaching spotlight from Chanel and Burberry. Young female celebrities were flocking to Miranda.
And in the fashion world, celebrity influence often set the tone for the masses.
Marchesa couldn't replicate Miranda's ascent—because behind Miranda was Martin.
That fact was an open secret in the industry.
"You want to boost Marchesa the way you boosted Miranda?" Georgina asked sharply. "But you already have Miranda. Why help create a rival?"
She was excited, suspicious, then silent, studying Martin's face closely, waiting for an answer.
Martin stood, walked to the window, and gestured outside.
"The world is vast. There's room for more than one brand. And no, I wouldn't fund a direct competitor to Miranda—but what if Marchesa became a subsidiary brand under Miranda?"
Georgina was stunned. "You want to acquire Marchesa? That's impossible. I've spent years building it!"
Martin turned and met her eyes.
"Anything's possible."
"Not only do I want Marchesa—I want you, too."
Georgina blinked, caught off guard by the boldness. For a moment, her heart skipped.
But then she quickly realized he didn't mean it that way.
"You mean, you want me to work under the Miranda umbrella too?"
"That's right," Martin said evenly.
For a brief moment, a wave of disappointment washed over Georgina.
But she didn't reject the idea immediately.
"...What's in it for me?"