Jennifer
The camera flashbulbs were dizzying. A soft buzz of admiration followed me as I stepped onto the platform, wearing the limited-edition sapphire choker from my “Blue Flame” line, crafted, of course, with no real artistry of my own. But the press didn’t know that. Hell, Lucian didn’t even care.
They wanted the image. And I was damn good at wearing it.
A reporter leaned forward, voice syrupy-sweet. “Jennifer, how does it feel knowing your collection has outsold every luxury brand in the quarter?”
I offered the practiced smile I’d honed in the mirror a hundred times. “It’s humbling,” I said, lacing my fingers over my lap. “We didn’t set out to compete, we just wanted to create pieces that tell a story.”
What a joke. The only story I’d told was Eloise’s, repackaged under my name,
