Chapter 2 2

The following week, Kurt appeared at my small, cluttered design studio. He didn't bring an apology. He brought a gift-a rare, first-edition design portfolio I had dreamed of owning for years.

He set it on my worktable, his smile smooth and practiced. "I know things at the gala were... tense," he began, masterfully reframing the night. "But getting close to the Vance family is a high-stakes game. Your contribution was necessary."

He made my humiliation sound like a strategic sacrifice for his success. And like a fool, I let him.

Then he leaned in, his eyes locking onto mine. "I have one final test for you, Kat. The ultimate one."

My heart started to pound.

"I need you to design the centerpiece wedding gown for the Salazar Corporation's annual bridal showcase," he said, his voice dropping to an intimate whisper. "This is it. The final hurdle. You pour your genius into this dress, and I swear, I will end all these games. I'll finally tell the world what you've waited eight years to hear. That you're the one."

The one he intended to marry. The promise hung in the air, a shimmering, irresistible lure.

He slid a tablet across the table. The screen lit up, filled with hundreds of photos and videos of Seraphina Vance.

"Design it for her," he said smoothly, his voice betraying no emotion. "Imagine her poise, her elegance. Create a gown that would make a goddess envious. It has to be perfect."

He was forcing me to use my rival, the woman he'd humiliated me for, as the muse for the very dress that was supposed to represent my own future, my own happiness. The cruelty of it was breathtaking, but the promise was stronger.

For days, I worked in a feverish haze, fueled by coffee and a desperate, rekindled hope. But as the gown took shape, a profound dissonance grew inside me. The design was beautiful, a cascade of silk and lace, but it felt... cold. Haunted. The love I tried to stitch into every seam felt like it was at war with a deep, gnawing pain in my soul. It was the first time my work had ever felt like a lie.

One evening, I went to his penthouse to retrieve a specific fabric swatch he kept in his home office. As I searched his desk, my eyes fell on a printed e-ticket. It was for a two-week honeymoon trip to the Maldives.

The departure date was the day after the bridal showcase.

The names on the ticket were Kurt Salazar and Seraphina Vance.

The world tilted. My blood ran cold. But denial, my oldest and most loyal companion, rushed in to save me. It's a contingency plan, I told myself frantically. A surprise for me. He's just using her name for some complex business reason. I shoved the thought down, burying it deep, and went back to work on the dress.