Hundreds of media outlets packed the venue. As the flashes erupted like lightning, my body went rigid. A stress reaction kicked in, my breath hitching in my throat.
Naomi Henson stood center stage, linking arms with Joel. Her poise was flawless; she looked like the mistress of the house.
When she spotted me, Naomi gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in exaggerated shock.
"Sister... how could you openly wear a plagiarized gown to such an important event?"
Instantly, every camera swung toward me.
On the massive screen behind the stage, a video began to play. A former employee from my studio, tearfully accusing me of stealing her designs for years.
The room turned hostile in a heartbeat. The whispers were loud and venomous.
"Wow, big news! The so-called 'original designer' is a fraud."
"She really will do anything to cling to the Mason family wealth."
"Thank god for Reporter Henson. If she didn't have such a strong sense of justice, this woman would have fooled us all!"
I looked at Joel, desperate for a lifeline.
Instead, I met a gaze of icy disappointment.
"You don't believe me?" I whispered, my heart stinging. "You won't even listen to an explanation?"