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“Yes,” Victoria replies, returning to reality.
“Are you sure?”
Victoria nods, though a wistful smile plays on her lips.
“I thought I’d feel a huge sense of satisfaction. But in reality, I just feel like we’ve closed a chapter.”
Harper squeezes her hand affectionately.
“Because we never need to see her fall to know our own worth, Victoria.”
“No. You’re right.”
Victoria looks at her team: Solange, Julian, Liam, and the designers working on the other side of the glass.
“We just needed to get out of there. To build something of our own that didn’t depend on anyone’s approval.”
“And we’ve done it,” Harper says proudly. “This is ours.”
Julian clears his throat loudly, breaking the emotional moment.
“Look, my dears, this is all very emotional and movie-like, but we have the launch party tonight, and if you make me cry, I won’t be able to fix my puffy eyes.”
Liam openly teases him.
“Says the guy who cried yesterday because we ran out of pistachio macarons.”
The group bursts into laughter, and the tension evaporates. Some things need no further explanation. The triumph is already theirs.
That very night, LUMEN ceases to be a dream and becomes an overwhelming reality. The launch party takes over the top two floors of an avant-garde building in the Meatpacking District. The glass walls offer a breathtaking panoramic view of the New York skyline, while giant screens project the cover of the first issue: a British-Sudanese model photographed without excessive retouching, wearing a spectacular haute couture design made from recycled materials. Next to her, a bold headline: THE NEW LUXURY IS FREEDOM.
Harper was the one who suggested the word “Freedom.” Victoria was the one who insisted it be the only text on the cover. Now that image is making headlines and trending on social media around the world.
“I still can’t believe it,” Solange says, appearing next to Harper with a glass of champagne.
Harper holds hers, taking in the scene.
“What?”
“That we’ve made this dream come true.”
Harper smiles. Solange points her glass toward the center of the room.
“Look at your girl.”
Harper follows her gaze. Victoria is talking with a group of designers and two key investors. She looks stunning. She’s wearing a black evening gown with an open back. She’s no longer the defensive woman who returned from Paris wearing a suit of thorns; she’s a self-assured leader who doesn’t need to prove anything because her talent speaks for itself.
“Go talk to her,” Solange says with a wink.
“I’m working, Solange.”
“Come on, Harper. We’ve spent six months watching you two work, argue, and stare at each other as if you’re about to devour one another between pages. Don’t try to hide it at this point.”
Harper smiles, conceding defeat.
“Go over there before some Italian designer tries to hit on your co-director.”
Victoria wraps up her conversation and, as if she had a built-in radar, instantly seeks out Harper’s gaze. Across a room packed with four hundred people, their eyes meet. Victoria gives her a subtle nod toward the outdoor terrace. Harper’s heart races with the same intensity as it did on the very first day.
