The Billionaire's Bought Bride and Instant Mom Chapter 37

Aveline

I met Vivian's hateful glare with cold indifference, then turned my back on her and carefully hung the dress in my closet.

Heavy footsteps thundered up the stairs, followed by the unmistakable sound of Richard's voice bellowing through the house. "Aveline! Get out here right now! What the hell are you doing to Vivian?"

Vivian's eyes lit up like she'd just spotted her salvation. She scrambled off my bed, clutching her bra to her chest, and rushed toward the door.

"Daddy!" she cried, fumbling with the lock. "Help me! She attacked me!"

I settled calmly into my desk chair, completely unbothered by the pounding that started on my door moments later.

"Aveline, you open this door right now!" Richard's voice was apoplectic with rage. "What did you do to my daughter?"

The door burst open and Vivian threw herself into the hallway, immediately seeking shelter behind Monica, who had appeared with her husband. Vivian's half-dressed state and tear-streaked face painted quite the picture.

"She ripped my dress off!" Vivian wailed, pointing an accusatory finger at me. "She just yanked it right off my body! Look at my hands—she hurt me!"

Richard's face turned an alarming shade of purple as he started unbuckling his belt with practiced efficiency. "That's it. I've had enough of your violence and disrespect."

I stood slowly, my voice carrying the kind of calm authority I'd learned in Europe's boardrooms. "Really? You're going to solve this with a belt again? I should mention that I know several parents from Arlington Academy who are police officers. I'd be happy to call them about assault charges. While I'm at it, I'll also file a theft report against your daughter for stealing my dress."

Richard's hand froze on his belt buckle, uncertainty flickering across his features.

"I was just borrowing it!" Vivian shrieked. "It's not like you have anywhere important to wear it anyway! Why can't you share for once in your selfish life?"

"Oh, is that what we're calling it?" I smiled pleasantly. "Well, it's my dress, and even if I never wear it, I don't want you touching it. Simple as that."

"Did you hear her, Daddy?" Vivian's voice rose to a hysterical pitch. "Throw her out! Tonight! This is our house!"

Monica grabbed Vivian's arm and whispered urgently, "Shh, you idiot! The house is still in Mother's name. So are most of the assets."

Richard's expression shifted as reality set in. "Vivian, we can't just... we need to be careful. If your grandmother gets upset and decides to leave everything to Aveline..." He trailed off, the implications clear.

I laughed, genuinely amused by their transparent calculations. "Well, at least you know where you stand. Now move. I want to go spend time with Grandmother."

I pushed past them with casual confidence, leaving them to stew in their own frustration and impotence.

The next morning—the day of the Blackwell birthday celebration—I discovered the purple dress hanging in shreds in my closet. The delicate beadwork had been deliberately torn apart, crystals scattered across the floor like fallen stars. The silk was slashed in multiple places, completely beyond repair.

I shook my head with rueful amusement. Of course Vivian couldn't let it go. Some people never learned.

But now I was facing a complete disaster. I'd planned to spend this morning shopping for an appropriate gift for Orion's grandfather, but with the dress situation, there simply wasn't time.

I rushed to my jewelry case and pulled out a men's ring I'd designed months ago—white gold with a deep blue sapphire, elegant and understated. The value was astronomical, but it would have to do. I quickly wrapped it in a red velvet box and tucked it into my purse.

Then I pulled out my phone and dialed a familiar international number.

"Laurent Dubois Design Studio," came the crisp voice of my business partner's assistant.

"It's Aveline. Is Laurent available?"

"Aveline! Hold on, let me get him."

Within moments, Laurent's warm French accent filled the line. "Ma chérie! How is New York treating you? Are you ready to come back to civilization yet?"

"Not quite yet. Listen, I need a favor. Do you know any reliable styling studios in Manhattan? I have an event tonight and I'm in desperate need of something appropriate."

"An event? What kind of event has our reclusive genius venturing into society?"

"A birthday celebration. For the Blackwell family."

The line went silent for a long moment. "Blackwell? As in Orion Blackwell, the corporate shark who owns half of Manhattan?"

"That would be the one."

"Mon Dieu, Aveline! You've been back for what, two weeks? And you're already connected to New York's most powerful family?" Laurent's voice carried a mixture of admiration and concern. "But listen carefully—that man is dangerous. Orion Blackwell destroys people who cross him. Promise me you'll be careful."

I couldn't help but smile. "Too late for that. I've already crossed him."

"What? Aveline, what have you—never mind, I don't want to know. Just... try not to get yourself killed, oui? I'll text you Margot Sinclair's information. She runs 'Margot's Atelier' on Fifth Avenue. Tell her I sent you."

An hour later, I stood in front of an elegant boutique that screamed understated luxury. The kind of place where price tags were considered vulgar and appointments were mandatory.

Margot Sinclair herself greeted me—a stunning woman in her forties with silver-streaked hair and the kind of effortless chic that could only be achieved through decades of working with fashion's elite.

"Ms. Reeves, I presume? Laurent spoke very highly of you." Her eyes assessed me with professional interest. "He mentioned you need something for the Blackwell celebration. Quite an honor to be invited to that particular lion's den."

She led me through a showroom filled with one-of-a-kind pieces before stopping at a dress that made my breath catch.

"This," she said, lifting a midnight black creation from its protective cover. "Silk jersey that moves like liquid, with hand-sewn crystals that catch the light without screaming for attention. Classic, elegant, with just enough edge to make a statement."

The dress was a masterpiece—a form-fitting mermaid silhouette that would hug every curve before flaring dramatically at the knees. The neckline was sophisticated without being revealing, and the crystal embellishments were so subtle they looked like starlight against the dark fabric.

"You must be Laurent's girlfriend," Margot said with a knowing smile as I admired the dress. "He's mentioned having someone special, and you're absolutely stunning."

"Actually, we're just business partners," I replied, amused.

Margot's eyebrows shot up. "Business partners? You mean you're—oh my God. You're the mysterious design genius he's always talking about? The one whose jewelry line has every collector in Europe on waiting lists?"

I smiled modestly. "I prefer to keep a low profile."

"Low profile?" Margot laughed, her professional composure cracking with excitement. "My dear, your work is legendary! I have clients who would kill for a piece from your collection. Laurent never mentioned you were in New York!"

"As I said, I like my privacy."

"Of course, of course. And don't worry about payment—I'll send the bill to Laurent. Consider it professional courtesy between artists."

Two hours later, after Margot had worked her magic with hair and makeup, I looked in the mirror and barely recognized myself. The dress fit like it had been made for my body, the black silk flowing like water with every movement. My hair was swept into an elegant updo that showcased the delicate line of my neck, and the makeup was perfect—dramatic enough for evening but sophisticated rather than flashy.

I looked like I belonged in ballrooms and boardrooms, like someone who had never doubted her place in the world.

As I descended the boutique's elegant staircase, feeling more confident than I had in years, a voice called out behind me.

"Excuse me, miss! Wait just a moment!"

I turned to see who had interrupted my exit, curious about what could possibly require my attention now.