The celebration was not held in a ballroom, but in the penthouse atrium of the Sterling Tower, a cathedral of glass and steel that touched the clouds. Its three-story windows framed a sprawling, glittering tapestry of New York City, a kingdom I now saw not as a backdrop, but as a territory. This was not a wedding reception, and it was not an engagement party. The embossed invitations, sent to a meticulously curated list of industry titans, art patrons, and global press, had called it simply: *The Inauguration of Sterling & Thorne*.
It was a coronation.
I stood near the edge of the glass, a flute of champagne cool in my hand. I was wearing one of my own designs, a column of midnight-blue silk that fell to the floor like liquid night, its only adornment a constellation of tiny, hand-sewn d
