LOGINJessica’s confession shocked everyone. The room went quiet for only a second, then everything moved fast.Alexander immediately started making phone calls. Lorenzo typed quickly on his tablet, pulling up information about Emma Park. Damian left the room and came back with a laptop and files, like he had been expecting something like this.Only Ethan seemed still, watching Jessica with an expression that was impossible to read."Emma Park,” Lorenzo said, reading from his screen. “She’s sixteen. She lives in Portland. She goes to Lincoln High School. She’s a good student and plays violin in the school orchestra.”A photo appeared on the screen, a teenage girl who looked like Jessica, but younger and gentler.“She doesn’t use social media,” Lorenzo continued. “That’s smart, but it also makes her harder to track.”"Richard's people have been watching her for three weeks," Lorenzo continued, pulling up surveillance photos that made Jessica flinch. “They’re professionals. This is serious.”
Sophia woke to sunlight streaming through the sheer curtains of her suite at the Plaza Athénée, for a moment she was confused. Then the events of last night came rushing back—Jessica's show, the stolen designs, Lorenzo exposing the truth, and the threatening message.She reached for her phone on the marble nightstand, expecting more chaos. What she found instead made her breath catch.Her Instagram was full of support—not from random people, but from the biggest names in fashion.@donatella_versace: "Theft is the lowest form of flattery. Real talent cannot be copied. @sophiadante, the world is waiting for your genius. Show them who you are."@olivier_rousteing: "They can steal your designs but never your vision. Paris is ready for the REAL queen. @sophiadante"@zendaya: "Can't wait to see the actual artist show everyone what ORIGINAL looks like. Team Sophia forever @sophiadante"Even Anna Wintour had posted—something she almost never did: "In years of fashion, I've learned that authe
The Petit Palais shone brightly in the Paris night, glowing like a signal light. Its beautiful old design made it the perfect place for what people were calling the most mysterious fashion show in years. Sophia watched from inside a dark Mercedes parked across the street. She held binoculars and quietly observed as powerful people in fashion arrived, dressed in expensive designer clothes.“You didn’t need to come,” Alexander said beside her. “We could have sent Lorenzo to observe.”“I had to see it myself,” Sophia replied calmly, even though anger burned inside her. “I need to watch her try to take what belongs to me.”They had arrived in Paris that morning and deliberating keeping a low profile, staying out of sight. While everyone talked about La Renaissance’s debut, Sophia Dante had seemingly disappeared, no social media posts, no interviews, no photos, no sightings. Her team released only one short message: Ms. Dante is finishing her collection and will see you on the runway.The
Within an hour, the Dante family’s dining room stopped looking like a place for fancy dinners. It became a war room. The long table was covered with laptops, phones, photos, sketches, and tablets. Phones kept buzzing nonstop with calls and messages.Sophia stood at the head of the table. She was still wearing her casual morning clothes, but her presence was powerful and focused. This was the same intensity that made her successful in the fashion world. Around her, her brothers worked smoothly, each doing what they were best at, like they had been preparing for this moment.Alexander handled three phone calls at the same time. He spoke with the legal team, the PR team, and the head of security in Paris where Sophia’s show would take place. His ability to manage everything at once was the reason Dante Industries was worth billions.Lorenzo typed quickly on his laptop. He was checking security cameras from Sophia’s studio and matching entry records with staff schedules. His face was shar
Sophia's phone had been buzzing non-stop since six in the morning. She'd finally given up on sleep around seven, reaching groggily for the device on her nightstand, still tired and half-awake. Her phone was full of notifications—Instagram, Twitter, news alerts, and messages from people she hadn’t talked to in years.One thing was clear.She was trending again.#SophiaDante was trending worldwide. Again.#FashionIconOfTheYear had over two million tweets.#DanteEmpire was being used by fashion bloggers analyzing her influence on the industry.People all over the world were talking about her.But it was the photos that made her pause. Professional photographers had captured her at every angle last night—walking the red carpet, accepting her awards, dancing with Ethan, deep in conversation with Beyoncé. In every single shot, she looked confident, radiant, powerful. Like a woman who had conquered the world.No one would ever guess that by the end of the night, she'd been scanning the crow
The after-party was held at The Crown, Manhattan's most exclusive private club—so exclusive that even billionaires sometimes couldn't get in. But tonight, the entire venue had been reserved for the Fashion Icon Awards attendees, which meant it was packed with the most powerful, beautiful, and influential people in the world.Sophia moved through the crowd like a queen. Every few steps, people stopped her—a designer wanting to collaborate, an actress begging her to dress them for the Oscars, a socialite trying to secure an invitation to her Paris show next week. She handled each interaction with grace and warmth, but her brothers noticed the slight tightness around her eyes that meant she was exhausted.“You need a break,” Damian said softly, appearing beside her with a glass of champagne."I can't," Sophia replied, accepting the glass but not drinking. "Do you see who's here? That's the editor of Harper's Bazaar, the CEO of LVMH, three different members of European royalty, and—oh my







