From His Fake Wife to Billionaire Heiress Chapter 291: The Gown

Within the hushed elegance of the high-end atelier, Riley stood before a vast floor-to-ceiling mirror. The refined foreign designer moved around her with a measuring tape, her movements precise and practiced.

Riley remained still, her expression detached, her gaze resting dispassionately on her own reflection. The entire process felt like a distant, procedural task, stirring nothing within her.

The designer scribbled down measurements and remarked, "Excellent proportions, Mrs. Ashford. Truly one of the most ideal figures I've had the pleasure of working with. The shoulder line, the waist—a natural canvas."

Standing nearby, Lucas felt a surge of inarticulate pride swell in his chest.

His eyes traced Riley's cool, refined profile in the mirror.

Sophia, for all her dazzling, actress-approved beauty, always carried a restless, grasping energy—a stark contrast to Riley's innate, quiet authority.

Even with her well-known background as an orphan, Riley possessed a natural poise that commanded respect without her uttering a single word.

"All measurements are complete," the designer announced cheerfully, coiling her tape.

Lucas stepped forward instantly, draping Riley's coat over her shoulders with practiced care. "You should head to the office. I'll stay behind to discuss the finer details of the gown. I want it to be a surprise," he said, his tone soft.

Riley glanced up, a flicker of mockery passing through her eyes.

She gave a compliant nod, a faint, knowing smile touching her lips. "Alright then. I'll look forward to it."

This "looking forward" has nothing to do with your surprise, Lucas. I'm merely curious to see what farce you and your mistress have prepared.

As Riley's car disappeared from view, the gentle facade on Lucas' face melted away. No sooner had it vanished than the atelier door swung open again.

Sophia swept in, the click of her heels preceding a wave of perfume.

Lucas' brow furrowed in immediate irritation.

"What are you doing here? If Riley had seen you... And that bouquet this morning—did you even think? It was for her," he hissed, the morning's floral mishap fresh in his mind.

Sophia's eyes welled up instantly, her face a mask of wounded surprise. "You're blaming me? Your card didn't even have a name on it!" she whispered, voice trembling.

She looked at him, a picture of heartbreak. "I-I just wanted to see what you were planning for her. A proposal like this... I can only wonder if I'll ever have one."

Confronted with her teary-eyed vulnerability, Lucas felt his anger dissipate, replaced by weary resignation.

Guiding her to a secluded corner, he softened his tone. "Alright, don't cry. You know the plan. Once everything with the Ashford family is settled, you won't have to hide. I'll make it up to you, properly."

Sniffling, Sophia gave a small nod. "Okay. I'll just listen, then. I won't interfere."

With a resigned sigh, Lucas acquiesced.

Turning back to the politely waiting designer, he offered a casual explanation. "This is my assistant. She has a good understanding of my preferences and can provide some valuable input."

The designer, accustomed to the discreet complexities of clientele, simply nodded and refocused.

Spreading open a portfolio of sketches, she inquired professionally, "Regarding the gown's specifics, Mr. Ashford, does Ms. Harper have any particular preferences? Lace, embroidery, or perhaps a specific floral motif?"

The question brought Lucas up short.

He sifted frantically through his memories.

What does Riley like?

Her wardrobe was a study in monochrome minimalism—blacks, whites, grays—offering no clear clues.

Flowers?

"She... likes magnolias," he ventured, somewhat uncertainly.

The designer noted, scribbling. "Magnolias. Elegant choice. And other details? Neckline preference—sweetheart or V-neck? Silhouette of the skirt?"

Lucas fell silent.

He couldn't answer a single one.

The past few years, juggling Riley and Sophia, navigating Caleb's watchfulness, and consolidating his position at the company, had consumed him.

Riley herself had receded into a hazy background—a beautiful, composed silhouette, but little more.

From her spot beside him, Sophia observed his floundering silence. Her eyes lowered, a sliver of satisfaction glinting within them.

The designer's expectant gaze shifted between the silent man and the quietly observant woman.