The Hidden Empress Stripping Her Secrets After Divorce novel Chapter 315

Thunderous applause shook the hall.

Piper stood totally frozen, unable to believe her ears.

"Christian..." she mumbled. "Is that me? Is it really me?"

Christian nudged her forward. "It's you. Go get your award."

Reality hit Piper, and she let out a shriek of joy, gathering her skirt and sprinting for the stage.

She moved so fast she nearly tripped.

A wave of warm, good-natured laughter rippled through the audience.

Piper stood at the podium, tears brimming in her eyes as she accepted the trophy. She took a shaky breath and looked over at the judges.

Iris was watching her.

Those eyes were perfectly calm, yet they held a warm, encouraging smile.

The tears finally spilled over.

"Thank you..." she choked out. "Thank you to the judges. Thank you to my mentor, Professor Chandler. And thank you... to everyone who supported me."

She paused, her gaze locking onto Iris, and gave a deep bow.

Iris offered a gentle nod in return.

---

Second floor, VIP area.

Sebastian's eyes never once left Iris.

He watched her clap softly as Piper accepted the award, watched her lean in to murmur to the judge beside her, and watched her delicately tuck a stray hair behind her ear.

Every tiny movement sent a jolt straight to his chest.

His phone abruptly vibrated.

He glanced down to see a text from Lance.

[Boss, I checked. Piper Brooks is Christian Lancaster's cousin.]

Sebastian skimmed the message and didn't bother replying.

He already knew that.

He couldn't care less about Christian's family drama.

He was just wondering when he would finally get a moment alone with her.

---

The ceremony continued.

Best Commercial Value Award.

Best Craftsmanship Award.

Best Creative Concept Award.

Award after award was announced. Designer after designer took the stage, met with wave after wave of applause.

Iris remained seated, politely clapping, offering respectful nods, and watching every single winner with quiet dignity.

Finally, the last award of the night approached.

The host took a deep breath, his voice turning incredibly solemn.

"And now, for the most prestigious honor of the evening—the Grand Prize for Best Design."

The entire hall fell absolutely silent.

The screen rolled the final video montage.

This time, there were only three nominees.

The first piece was by an Italian designer—a Renaissance-inspired ruby set, intricately detailed and exuding classical elegance.

The second was from a Japanese designer—a platinum brooch inspired by origami, impossibly minimalist yet brilliant.

And the third—

The moment the image flashed onto the screen, a collective gasp swept through the room.

It was a necklace.

The centerpiece was a breathtaking pigeon-blood ruby, surrounded by thousands of pavé diamonds arranged into a fully bloomed rose. The layered petals were so flawlessly carved they looked real, catching the light in a hypnotic, intoxicating blaze.

Rose.

He remembered the very first time she had saved his grandfather. Her surgical scrubs had been embroidered with a tiny rose.

He remembered her name—Evelyn, the elegant Iris.

Rose, Iris.

Both flowers.

Both her.

A slow, deep smile spread across his face.

---

Down in the crowd.

Christian stood completely paralyzed.

Heart of the Rose.

He remembered Evelyn's years in the Lancaster house. Nobody had ever bothered to ask her what her favorite flower was. He only found out later that it was roses.

In the garden of the old estate, there was a massive patch of roses she had planted herself.

He had never once paid them any real attention.

And now, those same roses were blooming on an awards stage in Paris.

His fingers slowly dug into his palms.

---

The awards ceremony officially concluded.

The crowd began dispersing, gathering in small groups to chat as they drifted toward the adjacent banquet hall.

Iris stepped off the stage, but the moment she neared the backstage entrance, she was swarmed.

Brand reps demanding collaborations, designers begging for a photo, journalists screaming for quotes.

She fielded them with polite grace. Her phone buzzed in her hand. She glanced at the screen, offered a warm smile, murmured an apology to the frantic crowd, and then swiftly vanished under the tight escort of her assistants.