[EVE]
We had made it—just in time for Spring Fashion Week. Again.
It hadn't been easy. The past few days had been a whirlwind of last-minute adjustments, sleepless nights, and unexpected crises that would have sent any ordinary team into a meltdown. But we weren't just any team. And we had Dean.
As the models strutted down the runway, draped in fabrics we had agonized over, I could feel the energy shift in the room. Murmurs of approval rippled through the audience, heads turned, cameras flashed. The way the light caught the silk, the way each piece moved—it was art, and everyone knew it.
Then the moment came.
The music swelled, the lights dimmed for just a breath, and then he stepped onto the runway.
Dean.
