A hush fell so complete it felt deliberate, as though the room itself had decided to behave.
The first company's name appeared in crisp lettering, followed by images of gemstones rotating slowly, obediently, on the screen.
Polite applause followed. Murmurs of approval. Notes scribbled.
Gianna watched without impatience.
She studied the way the crowd leaned forward for some collections, the way interest waned for others. She noted the micro-expressions—tight smiles, lifted brows, lips pursed in calculation. The room was a marketplace disguised as a gallery.
One by one, designs followed.
Some were exquisite. Some were safe. Some were loud enough to feel desperate.
Then—
"Whitman's."
The word carried. Enough to grasp the attention in the room. After all, It was the leading jewelry company in the country.
