TWO DAYS BEFORE THE BLACKWOOD'S PARTY
ELENA'S POV
The sliding glass doors of Blackwood Boutique automatically opened, releasing a blast of cold, perfumed air that raised goosebumps on my arms. I hesitated at the threshold, staring at the polished marble, the glimmering chandeliers, and the rows of displays filled with brands I'd only seen in magazines.
Rumor had it that their cheapest shoes cost three hundred and fifty thousand farqus. Three hundred and fifty. For shoes.
I shouldn't be here.
But I clutched the diamond voucher Madam Helena sent through the CNO — a card I was too scared to bend, breathe on, or smudge — and forced my feet to move.
I stepped inside.
Immediately, I regretted breathing. Everything shimmered like it was dipped in wealth I had no business touching.
A young man nearby was counting bolts of fabric. His bright bubble gum popped loudly as I approached.
"Um… excuse me, can you help me?"
He turned sharply and scanned me from head to toe with the exhaustion of someone who had seen too much of something he didn't like.
"Oh," he drawled, placing both hands on his hips. "The likes of you are here again."
I blinked. "Sorry?"
He rolled his eyes so hard I thought they might detach.
"I don't know why people like you don't understand that Blackwood Boutique is expensive. As in, 'save your entire salary for five years' expensive. And even if you could buy something, you'd look like a pig wearing pearls."
He scoffed, hips swaying dramatically as he walked away.
A headache bloomed behind my eyes.
"Hello there," a calm feminine voice said from behind me.
I turned to a striking woman in a fitted black suit paired with red heels that clicked sharply on the marble. Her lipstick was the exact shade of danger.
"I'm Cassandra. Welcome to Blackwood Boutique." She extended her hand.
I reached out, and promptly dropped the diamond voucher.
She bent to pick it up… then froze.
Her eyes widened, lips parting soundlessly.
"This… this is the Blackwoods' VIP card."
I stared blankly. "And that means…?"
She looked at me like I was holding the sun.
"It means you are our most important customer today."
Before I could protest, she guided me toward a gold-printed door labeled VIP, her heels commanding the earth with each step.
"So," she said warmly, "what's the occasion?"
"A dinner party. I'm not… really a party person. I don't know what colors suit me. And I think I'm terrible in heels."
Cassandra's expression softened. She placed her hands gently on my shoulders.
"That's why I'm here, darling. Leave it to me."
*
I stood before a three-panel mirror wearing a deep emerald dress that clung as though it had been stitched to my skin. The silk rippled like dark forest leaves under moonlight. The open back left my spine exposed to the cool air, but the reflection looked nothing like the Elena who shopped clearance racks.
Cassandra held up a jacket — delicate, structured, crafted from overlapping petal-shaped pieces.
"This will keep you warm," she said, "but more importantly, it will make people forget how to breathe."
My cheeks warmed.
"We can try others," she added.
I checked the time and gasped. "Evan! I have to go pick him up."
She nodded briskly. "I'll add jewelry and the right shoes. You'll look… breathtaking."
"Thank you," I whispered.
*
I left the boutique with two elegant bags and hurried to Evan's school. I was ten minutes late. The receptionist scanned my parent-child card, and moments later Evan's small hand slid into mine.
"Good afternoon, Mummy," he said, pulling his rolling backpack behind him.
"How are you doing, baby?"
"I'm good, Mummy."
"Good. That makes me happy."
He noticed the bags. "What is Mama holding?"
"Clothes for a party."
"Will I follow Mama?"
"No, Evan."
He stopped walking.
I crouched to face him.
"Mama doesn't know these people," I explained softly. "I need to see if they're safe first."
He kicked lightly on the floor. "Okay… but if they are not dangerous… Can I follow Mama next time?"
I kissed his forehead. "Of course."
We started walking again, and peace was restored. I reached for my phone to order a cab when someone called my name.
"Miss Elena Prescott."
I turned. Evan's class teacher stood there with a tight smile, beside a man and a little boy around Evan's age.
"Mr. Malcolm Fyer Redwood wishes to speak with you, if you don't mind."
Evan's grip tightened around my hand.
"Alright," I said cautiously. "Five minutes."
"Two," the man corrected smoothly. "I'm very busy."
The instant his voice reached me, the temperature seemed to drop. Malcolm Fyer Redwood was tall, sharply pressed in a charcoal suit with a silver tie that looked too pristine for a school environment. His posture was straight, rigid — the stance of someone used to being obeyed. His eyes were dark, assessing, with a calculative chill that made every instinct in me stand guard.
"This," he said, glancing at Evan, "must be Evan Elena Prescott."
His gaze slid to me. "And you must be Elena."
"Yes," I said evenly. "And you are?"
"Malcolm Fyer Redwood," he replied, lifting a hand toward the boy beside him. "And this is my son, Thomas Judas Redwood. But everyone calls him Tommy."
"Except me," Evan said tightly.
My heart thudded. That tone meant trouble.
Malcolm laughed. "Miss Elena, forgive me but… why did his father leave?"
The air around us snapped.
Deranged. This man was absolutely deranged.
"And it seems," he continued mockingly, "the lack of a father figure in his life has made him forget he shouldn't interrupt adults."
My voice finally returned, sharp as ice.
"This isn't about my marital status, is it?"
Malcolm blinked, then smiled like a snake. "Right. The main reason."
He held up a check.
Five. Million. Farqus.
"I want you to withdraw your son from Trinity and transfer him elsewhere," he said calmly. "I'm contesting for the governor of Wan State. Evan is always first. Tommy is always second. When my competitors dig into my family, this… discrepancy could harm my image."
I stared. Confused. Speechless. Boiling.
Then something in me snapped cleanly.
I dropped the shopping bag and stepped forward until we were eye to eye.
"It seems, Mr. Fyer," I said quietly, dangerously, "that the lack of a woman to warm your bed has left you speaking like a fool. And the lack of a mother in your son's life has ensured he will forever be second best."
His smile fell.
"My advice?" I continued. "There are plenty of dating apps. Download one. Find a woman. And if you ever come near me or my son again just because you think having a stick between your legs makes you a man—"
I lowered my voice to a whisper he would feel in his bones.
"—I will cut it off."
I snatched up my bags, grabbed Evan's hand, and walked away without looking back.
Behind me, his voice chased the air.
"Miss Elena," Malcolm called, "consider my offer."