Chapter 12

The week before the runway was hell.

The best kind of hell.

The kind where Gie was running on espresso, adrenaline, and the sheer force of her perfectionism, barely sleeping, barely stopping, completely consumed by her work.

And when Laurent finally arrived to check on the jewelry, she felt like she was on the edge of death and triumph at the same time.

High Security, High Stakes

Laurent Devereaux was a man who demanded luxury, but even he hesitated at the level of security in her home.

Her studio was inside her private estate, deep within one of the most exclusive gated villages in the city. The kind of place where only billionaires, politicians, and royalty lived, where security was tighter than an armored vault.

And inside her house, it was even stricter.

Fingerprint scans, coded access doors, motion sensors—everything designed to protect her work, because when you crafted jewelry worth millions, security wasn't an option, it was a necessity.

When Laurent stepped inside her studio, his breath caught.

His eyes widened, taking in the treasures spread before him.

Every single jewelry piece for the runway was displayed on black velvet busts and trays, shimmering under the soft glow of custom lighting, the way gems deserved to be seen.

And Gie?

She stood beside her work, exhausted but glowing, arms crossed as she watched his reaction.

Masterpieces on Display

Laurent let out a dramatic, borderline obscene sigh, pressing a hand to his chest.

"Mon dieu!" he whispered, stepping closer, eyes practically melting as he examined the first piece.

"Well?" Gie raised a brow, barely suppressing a smirk.

He looked at her like she had just handed him the meaning of life on a diamond platter.

"Gie. Ma chérie." He swallowed, touching his forehead like he was going to faint.

"This is…" He let out a shaky breath. "This is art."

Gie huffed. "That's the idea, Laurent."

But she couldn't lie—she was proud.

She had spent months crafting these, pulling from his designs, his grand descriptions of drama, seduction, and power, filtering them through her expertise, her instincts, her soul.

The Pieces:

A sapphire and platinum collar necklace, designed to mimic the night sky, each deep blue gem set in a way that reflected constellations, wrapping around the throat like a galaxy captured in metal.

A gold serpent arm cuff, winding up the arm with intricate scales, the eyes set with emeralds, as if it were alive and waiting to strike.

A set of diamond ear cuffs, cascading like falling stars, catching every flicker of light with icy brilliance.

A ruby and onyx statement ring, shaped like a blooming flower but with sharp edges, as if it were dangerous to touch.

An intricate choker of black pearls, each pearl individually hand-picked to match in size and luster, strung together with spider-silk threads so fine they were nearly invisible.

Laurent was visibly struggling not to cry.

"This is divine," he whispered, fingers hovering over the pieces like a worshiper in front of a relic.

"Glad you approve." Gie smirked, but inside, relief flooded through her.

Laurent's standards were insane—but she had exceeded them.

His eyes snapped up. "You will be there."

The amusement vanished from Gie's face.

"Laurent."

"Non." He waved a hand, cutting her off. "There will be no excuses, no refusals. You are coming. Period."

Gie sighed, already shaking her head. "I'm not really—"

Laurent made a high-pitched sound of distress, grabbing her hands dramatically.

"You will not insult me, insult your work, insult this collection, by refusing to attend."

Gie frowned. "You don't need me there."

"You need to be there," Laurent countered. "This is your art, your moment, your legacy being unveiled to the elite. You will be there."

"Laurent—"

"And you will look magnificent," he added smugly. "I have chosen a dress for you. It will make you look like the goddess you were born to be."

Gie groaned. "You did not."

"I did," he said cheerfully. "It's custom. A couture piece. My gift to you."

She narrowed her eyes. "I don't like being dressed like a doll."

He pouted. "Too bad."

She sighed. "Fine. But only if you let me pick something for you to wear."

Laurent's delight was instant.

"YES! Dress me, ma chérie! I will wear whatever you give me!"

The Piece Meant for Laurent

Gie tapped a finger against her chin.

"Describe what you're wearing," she said, already walking to her private collection.

Laurent lifted his chin. "It is a masterpiece, of course. Deep navy, silk-lined, with a cut so sharp and tailored it could make a prince weep. Gold embellishments. Long lapels, high collar—classic but bold."

Gie smirked.

"I have just the thing."

She unlocked one of the smaller cases, reaching inside to pull out a brooch unlike any other.

It was a gold sunburst, each ray detailed with delicate etchings, curling and twisting like flames, the center holding a large, polished citrine—a stone that caught the light like fire.

Laurent gasped.

Gie handed it to him.

"You'll wear this," she said simply. "To thank you for the dress."

Laurent clutched it to his chest like a lifeline.

"This is…" His voice broke. "This is so me."

Gie rolled her eyes but smiled.

"You deserve something special."

Laurent dramatically sniffled. "I adore you."

"Yeah, yeah. Just don't make me regret coming."

Laurent clapped his hands. "Oh, I will make you regret nothing. In fact, you might even enjoy yourself!"

Gie highly doubted that.

But at least, for now, she had a dress, a plan, and a show to survive.

The only thing she didn't realize?

That this night would change everything.