The Billionaire's Bought Bride and Instant Mom Chapter 38

Aveline

I turned toward the voice and felt my breath catch. Standing behind me was Luna Montgomery, her familiar auburn hair styled in loose waves and her green eyes bright with recognition. Flanked behind her were three other women whose faces I remembered but whose names had long since faded from memory—friends from my private school days who had disappeared from my life the moment my status as a Hartwell heiress evaporated.

"Aveline? Is that really you?" Luna rushed forward, her designer heels clicking against the boutique's marble floor. When she reached me, she stopped short, her eyes wide with amazement. "Oh my God, it is you! But you look... incredible! That hair, that dress—you're even more beautiful than you were in high school!"

One of the women behind her—a brunette whose face I vaguely remembered from countless charity luncheons—let out a skeptical laugh. "Luna, are you sure you're not mistaken? I remember when she left the family, she wasn't exactly... well-funded. Where would she get money for this kind of styling?"

Another chimed in with barely concealed malice. "Seriously, that dress alone must cost more than most people make in a year. Unless..." She trailed off with a meaningful look, the implication hanging heavy in the air.

Luna ignored them completely, grabbing my hands with genuine warmth. "Aveline, I've missed you so much! It's been what, six years? When did you come back? I heard you went abroad, but I never knew where. How have you been? Really, how are you?"

I remained silent, caught between Luna's obvious sincerity and the cold assessment of the other women. These were the same people who had dropped me like I was contagious the moment news of my parentage broke. The same ones who had whispered behind my back about the "hospital mix-up" and my "unfortunate circumstances."

"I actually asked your grandmother about you once," Luna continued, her voice dropping to something softer, more personal. "But she said she didn't have details about how you were doing. I worried about you, especially after everything that happened."

Something in her tone made my chest tighten. Luna had always been different from the others—less calculating, more genuine. But standing here surrounded by women who had abandoned me when I needed friends most, I couldn't bring myself to open up.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly, gently extricating my hands from Luna's grip. "I have an event tonight. I really need to go."

Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked toward the boutique's exit. Behind me, I heard the click of heels as the other women dispersed, their interest waning now that it was clear I wouldn't provide any gossip-worthy revelations.

But Luna's footsteps followed me.

"Aveline, wait!" she called, half-jogging to catch up. In her haste, she stumbled slightly on the sidewalk, and I instinctively reached out to steady her.

"Careful," I said, holding her arm until she regained her balance.

Luna laughed, slightly breathless. "You always were fast. I remember in high school track, none of us could keep up with you."

Despite everything, I found myself smiling. "Some things don't change."

"Listen," Luna said, her expression growing more serious. "About back then... I know I should have reached out after you left. I know I should have been a better friend when everything fell apart." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "My family was going through some financial troubles at the time—nothing compared to what you were dealing with, but enough that I was... distracted. Selfish, really. I'm sorry."

The simple honesty in her voice was disarming. "It's fine, Luna. That's all in the past. And as you can see," I gestured to my outfit, "I'm doing much better than I was back then."

Luna's face brightened with genuine relief. "I can see that! You look absolutely stunning. Like you could walk into any boardroom or ballroom and own the place."

"Maybe because I can," I said with a small smile.

"Well then, let's not lose touch again," Luna said, pulling out her phone. "I know you're busy tonight, and I have my own obligations, but I'd love to catch up properly sometime."

We exchanged numbers quickly, and Luna gave me a brief, warm hug before stepping back.

"It really is good to see you, Aveline. You seem... stronger. More yourself, if that makes sense."

"It does," I said. "Take care, Luna."

As she walked away, I felt a small piece of my past click back into place—not healed entirely, but at least acknowledged.

An hour later, I stood before the imposing entrance of the Grand Meridian Hotel, one of Manhattan's most exclusive venues. The doorman, resplendent in his gold-braided uniform, examined my invitation with the kind of thorough attention usually reserved for state documents before nodding his approval.

"Welcome to the Blackwell celebration, Ms. Reeves," he said, opening the massive glass doors with a flourish.

The hotel's lobby was a masterpiece of understated luxury—all marble columns, crystal chandeliers, and fresh orchid arrangements that probably cost more than most people's rent. But despite the opulent setting, the space felt oddly empty. A few scattered guests moved through the reception area, but it was clear the main event hadn't begun yet.

I was adjusting to the relative quiet when a familiar, unwelcome voice cut through the elegant atmosphere.

"How the hell did you get in here?"

I turned to see Vivian approaching, her face a mask of disbelief and poorly concealed rage. She was wearing what was obviously an expensive dress—emerald green silk with an elaborate beaded bodice—but something about the fit suggested it was borrowed or hastily altered. The color, while striking, made her skin look sallow, and the cut emphasized all the wrong curves.

"And that outfit," she continued, her voice rising slightly. "Where did you find a styling team like that? That level of hair and makeup is reserved for A-list celebrities! Those crystals on your dress—they're real, aren't they? How could you possibly afford—"

I met her incredulous stare with calm silence, refusing to be drawn into whatever scene she was trying to create. This was neither the time nor the place for family drama, and I had no intention of giving her the satisfaction of a reaction.

When it became clear I wasn't going to respond, Vivian's expression shifted from shock to fury. "Don't you dare ignore me! I know you can't afford this! Where did you get the money? What did you have to do—"

I turned my back on her mid-sentence and walked away, my heels clicking steadily against the marble floor. Whatever game Vivian was playing, I wasn't interested in participating.

As I moved deeper into the hotel, I caught sight of a familiar small figure near the reception desk, his dark hair perfectly styled and his miniature tuxedo making him look like the world's most adorable businessman. Mitchell stood beside him, looking every inch the distinguished gentleman in his formal evening wear.

Ryan.