Chapter 22

Serena's POV

Milo and Stella grip each of my hands, their eyes glowing with excitement as they take in the glittering racks of designer gowns and tuxedos. My plan is straightforward: pick up their custom outfits and leave before someone recognizes me. Or so I hope.

But of course, things never go that smoothly.

"Serena Sinclair?!"

I tense the moment I hear that shrill, all-too-familiar voice. It's Evelyn Whitmore.

I roll my eyes and sneak a quick hand into my purse to start recording on my phone. I already know this woman's going to run her mouth the second she sees me.

Evelyn zeroes in on me, voice pitched loud enough for half of Manhattan to hear. "Wow, can't wait to be a stepmom, Serena? Throwing money around on fancy clothes just so you can-what, trap a guy?" She flicks her hair with a mocking grin. "Because let's face it, with your little 'history,' you don't have much else to offer, do you? You think dripping in designer labels will make people forget who you really are?"

My jaw tightens, but I catch Milo and Stella darting anxious looks up at me. I force a small smile for them, then calmly pull out my phone. "Interesting opinion," I say. "Let's see if you're so cocky after hearing yourself on tape."

I tap the screen, and Evelyn's earlier jeers play back, her words dripping with ridicule. She pales instantly, glancing around as if she can't believe I had the audacity to record her.

"You-" she sputters, cheeks flaming. "How dare you-"

I arch a brow. "Keep talking, Evelyn, and I'll post this little gem online. I'm sure your agent will love handling that scandal, especially after you just lost a show." I watch the rage swell in her eyes, but Nina grabs her arm, whispering something that sounds like "not worth it."

I can't help letting out a low, humorless laugh. She's so easy to provoke. For a moment, silence crackles in the air-then she tries a different angle.

"You know," Evelyn says icily, "some of us remember your past. Eighteen years old, sneaking around And now, the father of these brats? Just a cop, isn't he? They can wear all the fancy tuxedos in the world, but they'll never climb out of that gutter."

Nina puts on a sweet, fake-lipped smile. "Evelyn, let's not-"

But Evelyn doesn't stop. "So go ahead, dress them up. That won't change a thing."

Milo and Stella stare at me, confusion and hurt flickering in their big eyes. I sigh, pushing back a flash of anger. "Why don't you worry about your own affairs?" I say coolly. "I'm not here to please you."

She opens her mouth like she wants to fling another insult, but I dismiss her with a bored wave. I turn my full attention to the kids, guiding them toward a well-dressed store assistant. She's already holding two sleek garment bags-one black tailcoat for Milo, one adorable little gown for Stella. The SA mentions these were finalized just this morning.

Milo practically bounces on his toes. "Is that for me? Stella, look at this!" He dashes forward, eyes wide with excitement. Stella, more reserved, follows, her cheeks flushed.

"Let's try them on," I say gently.

It's like watching a fairytale scene unfold. Milo emerges in a crisp black tuxedo with perfect tailoring, looking like a tiny prince. Stella's dress is a soft, pale blue that complements her big, bright eyes. My heart swells seeing them beam with happiness. I snap a few photos, open my messages, and send them straight to Lucas Harrington, who's probably in the middle of crushing some international business deal.

My phone buzzes.

Lucas: "You think they look good?"

I can't hold back a small laugh. "Of course," I text back. "They're amazing."

He replies with a single word: "Good."

Even through the screen, I can practically picture the half-smile curling his lips, the hint of satisfaction in those intense gray eyes. It's frustratingly attractive. I inhale slowly and pocket my phone.

Just then, another SA appears, holding a breathtaking gown in her arms-something shimmering, beaded, and clearly made to turn heads. She heads straight for me.

I blink. "I didn't order any-"

Then it hits me. Lucas. My breath catches in my throat as I stare at the stunning dress before me, my fingers trembling slightly as they brush against the luxurious fabric. The man has a habit of pulling stunts like this, dropping gifts without warning, but this... this is beyond anything I could have imagined.

My heart races as I take in every detail - the perfect cut, the way it catches the light, how it's exactly my style but somehow even better than anything I would have chosen myself. Lucas, always so thoughtful, so attuned to exactly what would make my heart soar. How does he do it? How does he always know?

A strange mix of emotions washes over me - pure joy at the sight of such a beautiful piece, deep gratitude for his thoughtfulness. Nothing quite compares to the thrill of discovering beautiful clothes, especially when they come from someone who understands you. I want to try it on immediately, to see how it transforms in the light, to spin and watch it move.

Before I can even say a word, Evelyn swoops in from nowhere.

"I'll take that," she says sharply, snatching the gown right out of the SA's hands.

The SA looks alarmed. "Ms. Whitmore, that's not-"

Evelyn tosses her hair, eyes gleaming greedily. "Whoever sees it first gets first rights to buy, right? Sorry, Serena, but I found it now. I'm not letting it slip away."

I set my jaw. "Listen, Evelyn, that dress was commissioned for me-"

She cuts me off with a sneer. "Commissioned, stolen, doesn't matter. I want it. And if you or this store clerk try to stop me, I'll make sure your brand gets blasted on every social media platform." She whips out her phone, waving it like a weapon.

Nina flutters behind her, all fake sympathy. "Oh, Evelyn, maybe it's not worth fighting over-"

"Shut it," Evelyn snaps. Then she eyes me with that smug grin. "So, you gonna make this easy, or do I have to raise a little hell in front of these precious kids?"

I let out a slow breath, mustering a cold, thin smile. "Alright, how about we settle this like adults?"

Her eyes narrow. "I'm listening."

I gesture at the gown she's draped over her arm. "If it fits, you can have it. For free. But if it doesn't, you owe me the full price. And that's not a small number."

Evelyn's lips curl into a mocking smile. "Dear Serena, I maintain my figure. You should've worried about your waistline before you made a bet with me. Deal."

She spins on her heel, practically dragging Nina behind her, and they disappear into the fitting room. Less than a minute later, frantic whispers and irritated grunts filter through the door.