The gallery was glowing.
Guests filled the room—design critics, fashion insiders, art buyers, and names Ana had only ever seen in email CCs.
But she stood there like she'd always belonged.
Wearing black silk.
No diamonds.
No logos.
Just the "Become" pendant resting above her collarbone.
📸 A New Kind of Spotlight
People didn't just look at the designs.
They looked at her.
Because she wasn't just a designer.
She was the message.
The fabrics told stories of escape and softness, of skin and strength.
She didn't explain them.
She didn't need to.
Her presence explained everything.
Christian watched from the side of the room.
Not beside her.
Behind her.
And that was intentional.
He didn't need to stand in the frame.
Because this moment belonged to her.
Until—
"So… that's her."
A woman's voice beside him.
Cool. Precise.
Christian turned.
Celeste Blake.
His cousin.
His family's image consultant.
The woman who once told him, "Marrying a commoner won't clean your scandals."
She sipped her champagne.
"Well. She turned out to be something."
Christian didn't reply.
Celeste leaned in slightly.
"You love her."
Not a question.
A cold observation.
He met her eyes calmly. "Yes."
She paused. For once, unsure what card to play.
Then—
"She's not like us."
He smiled. "That's the point."
👏 And Ana?
She made eye contact with him across the room.
She didn't wave.
Didn't smile.
Just… nodded.
A quiet we did this.
He nodded back.
🎤 Later That Night
One of the top fashion blogs posted:
"Ana Rae didn't just debut a line—she debuted herself. It wasn't wealth that carried her tonight. It was truth."
And that truth?
Didn't have Christian Blake's shadow behind it.
She'd become the headline.
Not the footnote to his fortune.
To be continued…