The after‑party gala for the Shanghai Fashion‑Tech Expo glittered beneath crystal chandeliers and projected light patterns dancing over marble floors. Guests in couture and tailored suits mingled around floating bars serving lychee martinis and sake cocktails. A live DJ spun ambient tracks in the corner.
Lynn guided Milo by the hand through clusters of industry insiders. She wore a midnight-blue silk gown edged with sea‑glass accents—her own “Tidefall" dress—while Kai nestled against her in a sling. She answered polite inquiries about her keynote panel and upcoming runway showcase, but her mind hummed with anticipation: tomorrow's press conference, Yara's vindication, Victor's downfall.
Ahead, a grand marble staircase curved upward in two sweeping arcs. At its base, photographers jockeye
