Chloe stood apart, frozen, her fists clenched until her knuckles blanched. Fury coiled in her chest like fire. No… not her. It can’t be her.
From the sidelines, whispers spread like sparks:
“Impossible… she’s the president’s wife?”
“No wonder she wore the Crimson Fate at the anniversary…”
“What if we lose our jobs because we bullied her?”
“She’s not shallow, not like you,” Clara said proudly, her voice rising above the murmurs. “She’s better. I always knew she was different.”
Onstage, oblivious to the storm brewing in Chloe’s chest, Abigail leaned closer to Edward, her cheeks flushed. “What are you doing?” she whispered, mortified yet glowing.
“Why hide now?” Edward answered gently, smiling down at her. “This was always our agreement.”
She gave a small laugh, tears bri
Chloe stood apart, frozen, her fists clenched until her knuckles blanched. Fury coiled in her chest like fire. No… not her. It can’t be her.From the sidelines, whispers spread like sparks:“Impossible… she’s the president’s wife?”“No wonder she wore the Crimson Fate at the anniversary…”“What if we lose our jobs because we bullied her?”“She’s not shallow, not like you,” Clara said proudly, her voice rising above the murmurs. “She’s better. I always knew she was different.”Onstage, oblivious to the storm brewing in Chloe’s chest, Abigail leaned closer to Edward, her cheeks flushed. “What are you doing?” she whispered, mortified yet glowing.“Why hide now?” Edward answered gently, smiling down at her. “This was always our agreement.”She gave a small laugh, tears bri
Nearly thirty agonizing minutes had crawled by when Chloe finally returned to the stage. Her presence alone commanded silence, every guest leaning forward in their seat.“The results of the final design competition are in,” she announced, her tone sharp as a blade. “But first—let us welcome back the models.”Once more, the ten finalists stepped onto the runway, jewels blazing under the stage lights. The air was electric, a hall of breathless anticipation.Chloe’s gaze swept over the crowd. She let the silence stretch, taut as wire, before she spoke again.“The first design to be chosen for the Ulrick Jewels Elite is…” Her pause deepened, and then— “The Scarlet Promise.”Gasps tore through the audience, but Chloe did not stop. Her next words struck like thunder.“The Scarlet Promise, worn tonight by the granddaughter of Don Sebastian Guevarra.”
The girl drew a steadying breath before placing her trembling fingers in Abigail’s. Together, they walked toward the bustling backstage, where models, assistants, and designers hurried about in a storm of sequins, fabric, and nerves.“Abigail! Where have you been?” Chloe’s sharp voice cut through the noise. She strode toward them, irritation plain on her face, but stopped short when she saw the girl beside Abigail wearing the Scarlet Promise choker. Her eyes narrowed.“Well, well,” Chloe murmured, her tone dripping with mockery. “Since when did you become the assistant of our little mystery designer? And this”—she flicked her gaze over the girl—“this is the best model they could find? How fitting. No name. No presence. Just as forgettable as the one she represents.”The girl stiffened, eyes dropping to the floor. Abigail tightened her grip on her hand, stepping slightly in front of her.
“Wear my design?” Abigail whispered under her breath, her face paling.No one here knew that she was the mysterious designer behind the pseudonym Roselune. And certainly no one had told her that the final phase required each design to be worn like a fashion show. She had no model prepared—no time left to find one.The girl beside her noticed. “Are you alright?” she asked softly, adjusting her thick glasses. Her voice trembled at the sight of Abigail’s unease.Abigail turned to her, studying her closely—the frizzy curls, the awkward stance, the way her large glasses framed eyes that were far too beautiful to be hidden. Something about the girl struck her like a memory of her own younger self, bullied and overlooked.“I need to ask you a favor,” Abigail said suddenly, gripping the girl’s hand.“Me?” The girl’s eyes widened. “I don’t think—”
Abigail was about to step into the function hall, satisfied that no more guests were arriving, when movement near the entrance caught her eye.A young girl, no older than fifteen, was cornered by two boys her age. They circled her like predators, their mocking laughter carrying in the night air. The girl clutched a small purse to her chest, her shoulders hunched as if she could fold herself out of existence. Thick glasses slipped down her nose, and her wild, curly hair only gave the boys more ammunition.“Look at her,” one jeered, tugging at a curl and letting it snap back. “She looks like she stuck her finger in a socket!”The other snickered and pushed her lightly on the shoulder so she stumbled back. “Nerd. Did you borrow your grandmother’s glasses for tonight?”The girl’s lips trembled, but she said nothing. Her fists clenched around her purse strap, knuckles white, as she stared at the ground.Ab
“What are you all doing here?” Edward’s voice cut through the crowd as he entered with Roen at his side. Heads turned instantly, including those of several curious guests. His presence was undeniable—confident, magnetic—and in the sharp lines of his suit, he looked every bit the man who commanded attention.“You finally showed up,” Laylah exclaimed, her eyes blazing. “Look at you—so polished, so handsome—while your wife is left here greeting strangers. What on earth are you thinking, Edward? And making her Chloe’s secretary? Have you completely lost your mind?”“Laylah—” Abigail murmured, gently grasping her arm to calm her.Edward didn’t flinch. His expression remained composed, as though he had expected this confrontation the moment Laylah discovered Chloe was back.“No, don’t stop me,” Laylah snapped, shaking her head. “This man needs