"I want everyone at a cutting station in sixty seconds!" Sienna’s voice cracked like a whip across the sprawling studio floor.

The heavy double doors had barely swung shut behind her twelve master tailors. They stood frozen in the entryway, staring in absolute horror at the slashed fabrics, the ov

The flash of paparazzi cameras outside the Grand Palais was blinding, a strobe-light welcome to the most coveted real estate of Paris Fashion Week: the Friday night prime slot.

Sienna Vance stepped out of the matte-black Maybach, her heels clicking sharply against the damp Parisian pavement. She w

Sunday morning. 7:45 AM.

The backstage area of the secondary syndicate hall was a symphony of controlled chaos. The air smelled of strong espresso, aerosol hairspray, and the sharp, clean scent of freshly pressed textiles.

Sienna Vance stood in the center of the madness, a measuring tape draped