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I glance at the expanse in front of me. Hundreds of guests gathered, from glossy influencers to longtime investors, editors from Elle and Byrdie, loyal customers, fans and curious media.

Raj is straightening a product pedestal again. Talia is deep in conversation with a Vogue contributor, nodding with just the right amount of charisma and authority. Jen is surrounded by admirers, all shining hair and laughter, making everyone feel like her new best friend.

And Sean. He’s posted near the garden entrance in a charcoal gray suit that fits like it was made for him. His stance is calm, but I know better. I know the way he’s tracking entrances, watching hands, glancing toward me every thirty seconds. Our eyes meet, and the pressure in my chest lightens for the first time all day.

“Five minutes, Ms. Sinclair,” a headset-wearing coordinator whispers beside me.

I nod. I’ve practiced this speech dozens of times, but at this moment, all I want is to say something real. Something true.

The soft chime of a bell echoes through the space as the crowd’s attention focuses toward the stage. The garden quietens and photographers reposition. The sun slips a bit behind a cloud, bathing everything in diffused light like even the sky is cooperating.

I step up onto the platform, the city unfolding behind me like a painted backdrop.

“Good afternoon,” I begin, voice steady despite the thundering of my heart. “First, thank you. For joining us here today. For believing in us. For riding the wave, even when the waters got choppy.”

A few smiles. Curious eyes. I keep going.

“When I started Lemon LLC six years ago, I didn’t have a boardroom. I didn’t have investors or press coverage. I had a toddler who pressed his little hand to my cheek and told me, ‘Mama smells happy.’” I smile, and a ripple of warm laughterpasses through the crowd. “I’d been using homemade lemon balm. That moment is where this began. In a moment of connection. And joy. It became the foundation for everything we built.”

“I won’t pretend the last few months have been easy. The accusations… the betrayal… the public spectacle—it shook me. But it also reminded me why this company exists. Lemon LLC was never just about beauty. It’s always been about healing. Creating products that soothe. That reminds us of who we are.”

I pause, letting my gaze wander across the audience. When it lands on Sean, I feel steadier. Grounded.

“That’s why today’s launch matters. We’ve named this Lemon Glow collection,Narrative,because it’s time to reclaim our story.”

There’s a soft gasp as the curtain behind me draws back, revealing rows of minimalist ivory packaging etched with gold lotus petals, sitting atop glass pedestals with soft backlighting. Sleek. Pure. Hopeful.

“Narrative features our signature lemon extract now paired with white lotus. White lotus is a flower that rises through murky water to bloom in perfection. Just like all of us. We rise. We bloom. We glow.”

Camera shutters click. Phones lift. Applause trickles in, soft at first, then grows into a chorus.

“I want to thank my efficient team for their tireless work and dedication to make this day a reality. I have the best team in the world and I’ll never not be thankful for them. Here’s to doing more great stuff with you all.”

My eyes darts to my executive team gathered near the podium. Talia smiles, giving me a nod.

“There’s one more person I need to acknowledge. Someone who reminded me that strength doesn’t always look loud or fearless. Sometimes it’s quiet. Steady. Sometimes it shows upwearing faded blue jeans and a Dodgers cap and refuses to let you go through it alone.”

I don’t say his name, but I don’t have to. The cameras find Sean, but no one else but I knows how real that gratitude is. How much more it means.

“This isn’t just another line of skincare. It’s a declaration. It’s a reminder that we don’t break. It’s a reminder that beauty lives in the comeback.”

Applause swells again as I step down. People swarm with congratulations, compliments, reporters with questions, cameras, cameras, cameras. I smile, I pose, I answer.

But my heart is somewhere else.

Later, I find him beneath the lemon trees. He’s watching me with that unreadable softness that makes me want to unravel.

“That was incredible,” he says, low and private, meant for my ears alone.

“I meant every word.” My voice wavers. “And the part about you.”

We speak at the same time. “Wren, I need to?—”

“Sean, I wanted to?—”

We laugh. The tension breaks.

“Let me go first,” I say, breath catching. “That night after the gala… it wasn’t pretend. None of this is pretend anymore. I know we said it would be temporary. Professional. But somewhere along the way, I—” My voice fails.