“You seem obsessed with my past,” I cut in, meeting her panicked gaze.
“Did you not know I graduated top of my design class? Or would you rather believe I sprouted talent from thin air after leaving the Brown pack?”
Chuckles ripple around us.
Jean winks.
Alice’s face flushes, pearls on her skirt twisting like matted wolf fur.
“So you can design—Alex loves me! You’re just a discarded—”
“Enough.”
Alex’s voice is as cold as Tossa’s winter rain.
“Alice, wait over there.”
She gapes, lips trembling, then storms off.
The music softens, chandelier light carving exhaustion into Alex’s furrowed brows.
“Your designs...” He pauses, staring at my galaxy pendant.
“They’re like your college sketches.”
I sip champagne, its acidity burning my throat:
“Sharp memory. Though perhaps you should f
