The room pulsed with electricity.
Spotlights like stars. Music like thunder under skin.
La Galerie de Fer was packed — journalists, influencers, designers, alumni.
Rows of black-clad editors and silent judges stared toward the runway like it was a confession box.
Backstage, Ayden stood with his arms crossed.
His fingers weren't shaking.
Luca came up beside him, breath even.
"This is it," he said.
Ayden looked at him. "You ready?"
Luca smiled. "I was born in glitter, remember?"
Camille gave the cue.
The lights shifted.
The first model stepped onto the runway.
The opening look — a jagged-sleeved jumpsuit in shattered silver silk — hit like a scream.
Followed by soft knits slashed with delicate embroidery.
Capes that flowed like broken wings.
Shirts with collars that sat too high — then fell apart mid-walk to reveal softness beneath.
Color palettes told a story:
Black. Deep navy. Gray.
Then... cream.
Then blush.
Then blood red.
The audience leaned forward.
Whispers stopped.
Phones didn't blink — too afraid to miss anything.
And then...
The finale.
The model stepped forward in Resilience — the reconstructed gown, the tear still visible, lined with silver embroidery.
The audience gasped.
Red thread bled from the collarbone like a truth never bandaged.
It wasn't a gown.
It was a scar made beautiful.
Ayden watched.
Luca's hand found his.
They held tight.
As the final model returned backstage, applause erupted.
Not polite clapping.
But loud. Real. Staggered.
Camille covered their mouth.
Theo dropped his camera.
Luca just turned to Ayden. "They saw it."
Ayden's voice was barely above a breath. "They felt it."
But then — of course — Iris.
She approached backstage in a black power suit and glacier smile.
"Well," she said, arms crossed, "I didn't think you had it in you."
Ayden raised a brow. "To survive your sabotage or to eclipse your show?"
She tilted her head. "Don't get arrogant, Vale. Judges aren't fans of drama."
"No," Ayden said, turning to walk away. "But they love truth."
He left her in the dust of his applause.
Outside the venue, Ayden and Luca stood under the Paris moonlight.
Ayden looked up.
"I thought winning would feel louder."
Luca leaned in, pressed a kiss to his temple. "You didn't win them. You won yourself."
Ayden nodded. "That's enough."
Luca smiled. "But just so you know… I think we did win."