The flashbulbs of the Met Gala faded into memory, replaced by the hushed, sterile light of a federal courtroom. Three months had passed. The media storm had condensed from a hurricane of headlines into the cold, dense reality of legal proceedings: *Lumina v. Vance, case number CV-2024-0715, for copyright infringement, fraud, and breach of fiduciary duty.*
Arthur sat across the room at the defendant's table, a ghost in a suit that now seemed too large for him. The arrogant swagger was gone, replaced by a brittle, hollowed-out stillness. He hadn't just lost his reputation; he had lost the energy that fueled it. He looked like a man who had been unplugged.
I sat beside Julian, my posture straight, my hands resting calmly in my lap. I was not here for vengeance. I was here for accounting. Fo
