The looming possibility of a Versace sale cast a long shadow over tonight’s show, turning the usual spectacle into something more charged, more uncertain. As the fashion crowd settled into the tram depot where it was staged, the murmurs were inevitable—was this Donatella Versace’s final bow? And if so, what would Versace even be without Donatella?

It’s not just that she’s held the house together since her brother’s tragic death in 1997, though that alone is enough to make her irreplaceable. It’s that she is the brand. She engineered one of the most viral fashion moments before virality was even a concept—J.Lo’s jungle dress in 2000, the reason Google Images exists. She’s been immortalized in a Lady Gaga song, parodied on SNL, and despite being late to the social media game, her following obliterates that of nearly any other designer. Maybe only Karl Lagerfeld reached this level of cultural omnipresence.

So tonight, she made her message clear: this is mine. “I love clothes to empower, to give strength and confidence,” she posted ahead of the show. “With this collection, I am not following any rules. Only the rules of the Versace DNA.” That DNA was evident from the first three looks—sculptural confections constructed from Versace Home duvets, molded into architectural silhouettes, covered in archival prints. Gianni’s own opulent residences were a reference point, but this wasn’t just nostalgia; it was a flex.

Revisiting the archives has been Donatella’s modus operandi since the 20th anniversary of Gianni’s passing, a reissue cycle that the rest of fashion has since copied. This season, she nodded to his final Atelier Versace haute couture collection from fall 1997—the offset shoulders, the ballet costumes with their razor-fitted bodices and gravity-defying skirts. The signature V was omnipresent: embedded into bustier tops in contrasting colors, decorating breast pockets on casual shirts, integrated into the geometric patchwork of chainmail skirts and silk slips. The message? I know these codes better than anyone. Because I built them.

“Being told what to do, being told what’s going to sell… I think fashion is creativity and creativity is instinct. If you try to please too many people, too many managers, creativity is gone,” she said in conversation at Milan’s Triennale museum earlier this week.

But this wasn’t just a greatest-hits tour. The 3D-printed experiments she introduced last season returned, this time even bolder, dripping in oversize crystals. Rhinestone-embroidered jeans were a savvy nod to the next generation, an attempt to connect with the streetwear kids beyond the obligatory A-listers in the front row. “Looking at younger people, sometimes they mix clothes together in a way that is so interesting,” she mused at the Triennale talk.

And yet, the most emotionally charged looks of the night—the pieces that felt the most Donatella—weren’t new at all. A pair of slinky metallic-thread gowns, one gold, one silver, that she first designed for her fall 1998 couture debut. The gold one, in particular, radiated Oscar winner energy. It was a full-circle moment, a reminder of everything she’s done, everything she’s held together.

What happens next for Versace is still a question mark. What happens next for Donatella, even more so. But tonight, she delivered a masterclass in ownership, in legacy, in proving—yet again—why she’s irreplaceable.