The Billionaire's Bought Bride and Instant Mom Chapter 35

Aveline

The past few days at Arlington Academy had been blissfully uneventful. No dramatic confrontations, no sobbing parents, no teachers mysteriously disappearing overnight. Just the comfortable routine of working with children who actually wanted to learn and grow.

The most interesting development had been the arrival of a new teacher—Colin Barrett, a psychology graduate fresh out of Columbia who looked like he belonged on a magazine cover rather than in a preschool classroom. At twenty-three, he had that earnest, intellectual charm that came with advanced degrees and genuine passion for child development. We'd clicked immediately over shared theories about early childhood trauma and the best approaches for helping withdrawn children.

He'd been particularly helpful with Ryan during our group sessions, seeming to instinctively understand how to engage him without overwhelming his carefully constructed defenses. When I had scheduling conflicts or emergency meetings, Colin stepped in seamlessly, always making sure to give me detailed reports about Ryan's interactions and progress.

Yesterday—Friday—he'd invited me to dinner, supposedly to "discuss strategies for helping children from high-stress family environments." But the way his eyes lingered on my face when he thought I wasn't looking, the way he found excuses to brush against my hand when passing papers, made his real intentions crystal clear.

Part of me had been tempted to say yes. It had been years since I'd been on an actual date, and Colin was attractive, intelligent, and genuinely kind. But then I'd remembered the ridiculous legal situation I was still trapped in—technically married to a complete stranger who was like a ghost, utterly untraceable and invisible—and the whole thing had felt impossibly complicated.

So I'd made up some excuse about weekend plans and watched disappointment flicker across his handsome features.

Now it was Saturday morning, and I'd dragged myself out of bed early with the grim determination to finally deal with my marital status. I needed Richard to give me contact information for my supposed husband so I could get this divorce process started properly.

I was prepared to use whatever means necessary to force him to cooperate—threats, blackmail, whatever it took. Richard had been deliberately stonewalling me, terrified that if I divorced this mysterious benefactor, the family would have to return the purchase price they'd received for me. But I was done playing his games.

But when I'd gone looking for him, the house was eerily quiet. A note on the kitchen counter explained that he, Monica, and Vivian had left at dawn for an emergency shopping expedition.

*"The dress Vivian bought last week makes her look washed out,"* Monica had written in her dramatic script. *"We're going to my friend's boutique in SoHo to find something more suitable for such an important occasion. Tomorrow is a big day and everything must be perfect."*

I'd rolled my eyes so hard I was surprised they hadn't fallen out of my head. The amount of time and energy this family was investing in Vivian's fantasy romance was almost impressive in its complete detachment from reality.

I was sprawled across my bed, trying to decide between reading a psychology journal or going back to sleep, when Grandmother's gentle knock interrupted my brooding.

"Aveline, dear? There's someone here with a delivery for you."

Curious, I made my way downstairs to find an unexpected but familiar figure waiting in our front parlor.

"Miss Aveline," Mitchell said, rising from his chair with that impeccable posture that made everyone else in the room seem slightly slouched by comparison. "I hope you'll forgive the intrusion. Mr. Blackwell provided your address, and I took the liberty of calling upon you this morning."

Behind him stood a younger man in an equally crisp uniform, his arms laden with what appeared to be several large garment bags and elegant hat boxes.

"These are for you," Mitchell continued, gesturing toward the mysterious packages. "Mr. Blackwell was concerned that with your demanding schedule, you might not have had the opportunity to select appropriate attire for tomorrow's celebration. He took the liberty of choosing several options that he felt would suit you perfectly."

The assistant began carefully unveiling the contents. While the gowns were undeniably exquisite, having spent years in Europe's luxury markets had somewhat desensitized me to such displays. Still, I could appreciate the craftsmanship and recognize the astronomical cost of what I was looking at.

A midnight blue gown with delicate crystal beadwork, a champagne-colored creation with intricate lace overlays and pearl embellishments, an emerald green number with dramatic off-the-shoulder design—each piece was clearly custom-made by elite designers, the kind of couture that required months of waiting lists and astronomical budgets.

"This is incredibly generous," I said, though my voice remained steady. "But I really couldn't accept—I'm not used to wearing such elaborate things."

Mitchell's expression grew slightly concerned, as if my reluctance might somehow reflect poorly on his efforts. "If none of these selections meet with your approval, Miss Aveline, I'm afraid Mr. Blackwell will hold me personally responsible for failing in my task."

Grandmother Eleanor, who had been watching the proceedings with obvious delight, stepped forward with a warm smile.

"My dear, if someone has gone to such thoughtful trouble on your behalf, why refuse such kindness? It would be rude to reject such generous hospitality."

She had a point. Whatever my personal preferences, refusing such an elaborate gesture would be unnecessarily insulting to both Mitchell and his employer. Besides, well, at least this saved me the time and trouble of shopping for something appropriate. With the party tomorrow night, I really hadn't made any preparations yet.

I looked back at the dresses with fresh eyes. Yes, they were incredibly elaborate—covered in crystals and beading that would catch every light in the room. The aesthetic was perhaps more ostentatious than I would have chosen for myself, leaning toward the kind of obvious luxury that screamed wealth rather than whispered it. But the quality was undeniable, and more importantly, I didn't want to disappoint Mitchell, who was clearly nervous about my reaction.

"This one," I said finally, pointing to a deep purple gown that was relatively understated compared to the others—though "understated" was a relative term when discussing a dress that probably cost more than a car.

Mitchell's relief was palpable. "An excellent choice, Miss Aveline. That particular piece will complement your coloring beautifully."

After Mitchell and his assistant departed with the other gowns, Grandmother immediately began bustling around with an energy I hadn't seen from her in years.

"Well, don't just stand there," she said with obvious excitement. "Try it on! I want to see how it looks."

I carried the dress to my room and carefully slipped into it, trying not to think about the astronomical cost of what I was wearing. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I barely recognized the woman staring back.

The purple silk hugged my curves in all the right places before flowing into a dramatic train that pooled around my feet like liquid amethyst. The bodice was adorned with intricate silver beadwork that formed delicate patterns across the fabric, catching the light with every small movement. The neckline was perfectly calculated—elegant without being improper, sophisticated without being severe. Tiny crystals were scattered throughout the skirt like stars against a twilight sky, creating subtle sparkles that seemed to dance as I moved.

I looked like someone who belonged at galas and charity auctions, someone who had never worried about money or status or whether her past would catch up with her.

When I returned to show Grandmother, her face lit up with pure joy.

"Oh, my darling girl," she breathed, clasping her hands together. "You look just like I did when I was young and beautiful. Absolutely radiant."

The words themselves didn't matter as much as the way they transformed Grandmother's entire expression. Suddenly her eyes were sparkling with life, as if she'd been swept back to her own radiant youth. Seeing her light up like that was worth more than any compliment.

"But you'll need proper shoes, of course. And perhaps a necklace—though that emerald set you gave me would be perfect. Oh, and we simply must do something about your hair! Come, come, we're going shopping immediately. I know exactly the places we need to visit."

I watched in amazement as Grandmother transformed before my eyes, years seeming to fall away as her enthusiasm took over. She was already reaching for her coat, moving with more energy than I'd seen from her in months, chattering about boutiques and salons with the excitement of a teenager preparing for prom.

"Let me just change out of this dress first," I said, carefully slipping out of the purple gown and hanging it back up before pulling on something more suitable for shopping.

"Grandmother, are you sure you're up for—"

"Nonsense!" she interrupted, already heading for the door. "When else will I get the chance to dress up my granddaughter like a princess? This is exactly the kind of adventure these old bones were made for!"