The invitation called it the jewel of the season: Eternal Vow's ten-year anniversary gala in the gold-and-ivory ballroom of the Sterling Grand. I stood against a marble pillar with a glass I never touched and watched the cameras find their subject.
Elena descended the staircase in a column of pale silk. The necklace she wore was mine, three weeks of sketches and a platinum filament I had spent two days perfecting. The crowd applauded the name on the brand, and the woman on the stairs knew better than anyone who had shaped the light around her throat.
I was the man waiting for her at home. Almost no one in that room knew my name either.
For seven years, I had designed every collection that made Eternal Vow famous. My sketches left our apartment under Elena's name and returned as magazine
