The night before Fashion Week, Cross Luxury Group hosted a gala for designers, models, press, and industry insiders. It was tradition, a final celebration before the chaos of show days began.I didn't want to go. I wanted to be in my studio, obsessively checking every detail one more time. But Lucien's PR team insisted my presence was mandatory."Network, smile, be confident," Rachel coached me. "This is your chance to make impressions before tomorrow's show."I wore a simple black dress, loose enough to hide my belly but elegant enough to fit the formal event. My hair was styled, makeup professionally done. I barely recognized myself in the mirror.The gala was held in a historic Manhattan hotel, all crystal chandeliers and marble floors. Hundreds of people filled the ballroom, the air buzzing with conversation and champagne and anticipation.I stayed near the edges, nursing sparkling water and watching. Blair was somewhere in the crowd, networking. Riley had come as my support, stay
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