The main boardroom of the Vance Luxury Syndicate was designed to intimidate. Paneled in dark, rich mahogany and dominated by a forty-foot table carved from a single slab of black marble, it was a room where empires were bought, sold, and dismantled.

When Clara pushed through the double doors, the

The Grand Palais in Paris was a chaotic, glittering epicenter of high fashion. Outside the massive glass-domed venue, hundreds of paparazzi clamored against velvet ropes, their camera flashes exploding like lightning in the crisp evening air.

Tonight was the highly anticipated Damien Sterling Spri

The Grand Palais had fractured into total bedlam. The pristine, highly curated atmosphere of Paris Fashion Week dissolved into a riot of flashing cameras, shouting critics, and a stampede of luxury buyers furiously texting on their phones.

Above the obsidian runway, the sixty-foot screens continue