Then, another name crossed her mind—the very person who had made this journey a living hell.
Zane Kaius.
She scanned the judges' table, expecting to see him perched there, ready to dismantle her work with whatever cold logic he could conjure. But he was nowhere to be seen. Had their earlier encounter upset him that much? Whether he was there or not, Selina didn't give a damn.
"I have come too far to back off. This is for myself and my little one," she whispered, a mantra against the nervousness that wrapped around her like a heavy cloak.
The sight of her supporters bolstered her morale, masking the nervousness. Her pulse drummed relentlessly, a rhythmic thrumming echoing in her ears with every measured, agonizing step. She struggled to mimic a professional gait in her condition, but she was no longer the vulnerable designer who had first signed up—she was the fierce face of her own creation.
