Chapter One Hundred And Ninety Three
The bright Italian morning sun streamed into the massive, high-ceilinged rehearsal hall of the Milan creative arts center. Long, warm lines of golden light painted the polished wooden floorboards where dozens of international models were practicing their routines. The air inside the hall was thick with the scent of strong espresso, leather shoes, and the nervous energy of the fashion elite preparing for the peak of Milan Fashion Week.
I stood near the large floor-to-ceiling windows, taking a slow sip from a tiny paper cup of black coffee. I was dressed in my usual uniform—a simple, form-fitting black t-shirt that hugged my shoulders, dark tailored trousers, and polished leather boots. On the outside, my face was a perfect, emotionless mask of professi
