Chapter 104

Nina's POV

"Completely," Marlon replied. "Lumi's true identity has been one of fashion's best-kept secrets, but today, it's time for the truth to come out."

A flash of movement caught my eye. Serena stood at the edge of the stage, her expression unreadable. She didn't look triumphant or smug - just calm, as if this revelation meant nothing to her. That composure made it even worse.

The competition hall erupted with voices of disbelief. My heart raced as I watched the crowd turn on Serena, their skepticism matching my own desperate hopes.

"Mr. Wright, how can you claim she's Lumi Nova? Where's your proof?" A man near the front row stood up, her voice cutting through the chaos. Others quickly joined in.

"Anyone could claim to be Lumi! She's never shown her face in public!"

Marlon Wright sat calmly at the panel, his expression serene despite the hostility. I studied him carefully, searching for any sign of uncertainty or deception. But his pale blue eyes remained clear and steady.

"Let me tell you about the first time I met her," he began, his voice carrying a gentle warmth that made the crowd lean in despite themselves. "For years, I handled all her design submissions. She was brilliant but completely anonymous - just a name and incredible talent."

My fingers dug into my palms as I watched Serena. She remained motionless, her face betraying nothing.

"Then two years ago," Marlon continued, "she decided to return to her home country. That's when she finally agreed to meet me in person." A slight smile touched his lips. "I still remember my surprise when this beautiful young woman walked into my office. Her designs had always carried such strength and maturity, I'd imagined someone older."

The hall had grown quiet. Too quiet. I could feel the audience's skepticism wavering, being replaced by something else - belief.

No. This couldn't be happening.

"But that's just your word," another voice called out. "How do we know you're telling the truth?"

Marlon's expression shifted, a flash of anger breaking through his composure. "You question my integrity?" His voice carried a sharp edge now. "I am the chief editor and lead designer of this country's most prestigious fashion magazine. My entire career is built on recognizing and nurturing talent."

He stepped forward, his presence suddenly commanding. "I stake my professional reputation on this: Serena Sinclair is Lumi Nova. And anyone who doubts that clearly knows nothing about design."

Serena's POV

The audience's murmurs grew louder, a wave of speculation washing over the studio.

I closed my eyes briefly, memories flooding back. Six years ago, in Paris, when my designs were rejected by major fashion houses. Marlon found me in my tiny workshop, surrounded by crumpled sketches and tears of frustration.

"Your designs aren't the problem, Serena," he had said, his voice gentle but firm. "It's your fear of being seen. The world needs to know the artist behind these masterpieces."

He was right. I'd hidden behind the Lumi Nova persona, terrified that my family's drama would overshadow my work. Marlon helped me navigate the international fashion scene, turning Lumi Nova into a respected name. He never asked for anything in return, except my trust in myself.

My past has made me incredibly guarded, reluctant to trust anyone. The wounds from my original family run deep. If it weren't for Marlon Wright, who moved mountains to protect me, my designs might never have reached the world stage. He helped me transform my life, bringing my work to global recognition.

But just when I reached the pinnacle of my career, I returned home for Ian Whitmore.

I thought finding someone who could accept me-accept my past-was rare. I felt I needed to cherish it, to show gratitude. How naive I was.

To help Ian revive the Whitmore empire, I sacrificed everything. I gave up my thriving career, spent countless nights at business functions. The constant drinking numbed me, drained my passion for design. I lost all inspiration, all creative spark. If Marlon hadn't persistently encouraged me, helped me rediscover my original passion, I wouldn't be standing on this design stage today.

I sacrificed so much for Ian, though I never told him directly. I thought he would see it, feel it, understand my devotion.

The irony cuts deep now.

"I can verify my identity," I spoke clearly into the microphone, my voice cutting through the chaos. The studio fell silent. "Could someone please bring my phone from my dressing room?"

My phone arrived. With steady hands, I typed out a message I'd drafted years ago but never had the courage to send. "To my devoted followers: Today, I, Serena Sinclair, confirm that I am Lumi Nova. My journey as a designer began in shadows, but it's time to step into the light."

The studio erupted in gasps and exclamations as phones lit up with notifications. I looked directly into the main camera. "Everyone can check Lumi Nova's official social media accounts for confirmation."

Marlon's eyes met mine, filled with pride and understanding. I gave him a subtle nod. "Thank you for everything, all these years," I whispered, too soft for the microphones to catch.