PAIGE
The Plaza was a fortress of light and sound. A gauntlet of flashing cameras and shouted questions from the press pen, all hungry for a piece of the city's elite.
A year ago, this walk would have filled me with a cold dread. I would have felt like an imposter, a ghost in my own life, terrified of saying the wrong thing, wearing the wrong thing, being the wrong thing.
But not tonight.
Tonight, the crush of voices was just noise. The blinding flashes were a spotlight I commanded. I walked the crimson carpet leading to the entrance, my head high, the razor-sharp slit in my McQueen gown parting with each step.
The red beneath my feet wasn't just a color; it was a path I was carving, and the dress was my battle standard. A big, beautiful, 'fuck you' to every single person who had ever looked down on me.
