The silence in the hall grew suffocating. The cameras zoomed in, magnifying every flicker of panic on her face.
Reporters lifted their microphones but didn’t dare speak; only the relentless clicking of shutters and the harsh glare of flashbulbs filled the air, weaving a blinding white pressure around her.
Chloe’s lips trembled. Her pale face glistened with tears, the makeup she had so carefully applied streaking into ruin.
Chloe clutched the hem of her dress, her knuckles bone-white, like a caged animal with no way out.
I wasn’t in a hurry.
I walked toward her slowly, each step steady, my voice unhurried, every word carrying clearly through the microphone.
“What’s wrong?”
A cold curve pulled at my lips.
“Didn’t you just say everyone in the industry already knows the truth?”
“Then go on—tell them. Share your vision, your ideas, even your last design concept. Let’s hear it.”
The hall fell into a suffocating silence.
Only the cold, unblinking cameras remained, magnifying the panic flickering in her eyes.
“S–Sophia…”
Her voice rasped, raw as gravel.
Trembling, she reached for Ethan’s sleeve, her words broken, laced with sobs.