The glass double doors of the Crown Harbor Hotel opened into the biting December air of Manhattan, but the winter chill was nothing compared to the ice freezing over my veins.

The entire room fell dead silent.

"My name is Alexander Vance, senior counsel for Nora Caruso," he announced, his voice carrying the weight of absolute authority. "What you are witnessing tonight is not a debut of original couture. It is a public demonstration of corporate fraud, intellectual property theft, and systemic deception orchestrated by Caruso Design Group executives."

Cameras instantly swiveled away from the stunned model on the runway and flashed blindingly toward Dominic Caruso in the front row.

Dominic looked like a man who had just been hit by a freight train. He lunged down the aisle toward the stage, his face purple with rage, pointing a shaking finger at Alexander.

"This is a malicious lie!" Dominic roared, his voice cracking slightly. "It's a disgruntled ex-wife trying to sabotage a multi-million dollar brand! Security, throw him out!"

Security guards hesitated, looking confused and uncertain as flashing cameras recorded every single micro-expression of panic on the CEO's face.

I stood up slowly from my front-row seat. The crimson suit caught the stage lights, making me look like a queen surveying her conquered territory.

I walked leisurely up the carpeted steps toward the stage, stopping just beside Vanessa, who stood frozen in my dress, shaking like a leaf.

I looked straight into the lens of the primary live-streaming camera broadcasting the event to hundreds of thousands of viewers online.

"You told me once, Dominic, that I never needed to perform in front of you," I spoke clearly into a handheld mic provided by the sound crew. "You were right. I'm done performing. And as of five minutes ago, my legal team has filed an emergency injunction freezing all corporate assets of Caruso Design Group pending a full federal audit."