Tristan’s complexion drained of color.
“Mrs. Porter,” he repeated, his voice hoarse. “What is this supposed to mean.”
Emilia nodded slightly. She placed the folded cloth on the cleaning cart. She slid her gloves off with smooth elegance and set them aside.
Immediately, a young assistant hurried forward holding a tailored white blazer. She draped it over Emilia’s shoulders as if this had always been the plan.
In the span of seconds, the cleaning attendant vanished.
In her place stood a woman with her hair loosened from a tight bun, posture straight, shoulders squared, gaze steady and unreadable. The harsh fluorescent light of the lobby now seemed to bend around her.
The silver haired man stepped forward and raised his voice just enough for the surrounding crowd to hear.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it is my honor to present Mrs. Emilia Porter, founder and creative director of the Aurora Flame fashion house, and the principal investor behind tonight’s exclusive collection launch.”
A ripple of astonishment spread through the lobby.
Tristan stumbled back one step. Brielle’s grip on his arm loosened.