Serena’s POV
I'd barely sat down and exchanged pleasantries when she slid the sketches across the table. They were evening gown designs, each one more exquisite than the last. Kruse was famous for their formal wear, with each season's limited pieces becoming instant must-haves among society women.
The sketches showed remarkable attention to detail—intricate beadwork patterns, clever structural elements, and flattering silhouettes.
"Are these for Fashion Week?" I asked, examining the detailed pencil work.
Zara smiled enigmatically. "Good eye. These are indeed Kruse's preparations for tomorrow's showcase."
I froze, my coffee cup halfway to my lips. Even for tomorrow's show, these designs should be highly confidential. Why was she showing them to me? The gesture made no sense
