Chapter 4

Daylight had fully broken. Clara, who hadn't slept all night, dragged herself up, washed up like usual, and headed to her store. Since graduating, Clara had only done two major things: married Eugene and opened her own boutique in the upscale Aurora Galleria downtown, aptly named "Amarielle". Her brand catered to mid—to—high—end clientele, mostly custom—made pieces. She had four staff members working shifts, while she usually stayed in the back, sketching designs and tailoring finished pieces. "Clara, you're looking really pale today. Want to take a break?" Her employee, Lily, a lively girl with a good eye for detail, noticed right away and hurried over with a cup of warm water. Clara looked at Lily's concerned expression and felt a pang in her heart. Her husband had never once asked if she was okay, let alone if she was tired. All these years, all he seemed to have for her was cold disdain. Clara tightened her grip on the cup and forced a smile. "I'm okay, just didn't sleep much. Go double—check everything—we've got quite a few clients booked today." "Don't worry, I already went through the list. Clara, why don't you go lie down on the sofa inside for a bit? I'll call you if anything comes up." Under Lily's constant urging, Clara finally gave in and went into the workroom, sitting down on the sofa. Close to noon, Lily came in holding a large gift box, looking slightly apologetic. "Clara, one of the clients who ordered a dress said she can't come pick it up today—she wants us to deliver it." Clara frowned. Typically, clients came in person to collect their custom outfits. Adjustments often had to be made on the spot, especially with formalwear. "Where's it going?" Lily blinked. "Not far! Miss Mitchell said just drop it at the Collins Group Building." The Collins Group? Clara instinctively didn't want to go, but Lily looked a little desperate. "Clara, it really has to be you this time—what if it doesn't fit? You're the only one who can work magic on short notice!" Clara couldn't help laughing at that. She took the box from Lily's hands. "Alright then, keep the store running while I'm out." With the dress and a sewing kit in hand, Clara left. After checking in with reception, someone guided her to the elevator. They rode it up to the thirty—eighth floor. The secretary did a double take when she saw Clara—wasn't this the CEO's wife? But she quickly masked her surprise and ushered Clara inside. Clara didn't look up as she carried the big box in, completely unaware of the pair of cold eyes watching her every move. Suddenly, a sharp voice cut through the air. "Clara!" Clara froze, then snapped her head up in shock. "Eugene?" She had hoped to avoid seeing Eugene, yet here he was, standing right in front of her. "What are you doing here?" His tone was cold, clearly displeased. Clara clutched the box, that too—familiar face stabbing straight into her heart. She bit her lip. "I'm just delivering a dress to Miss Mitchell." Miss Mitchell? Eugene narrowed his eyes suspiciously, clearly wondering what trick she might be playing this time. Just then, a knock sounded on the door, and a vibrant figure burst in, throwing herself toward Eugene with a sweet voice. "Eugene! Is my dress here yet?" "Your dress?" "Yeah! I was filming an ad down in the marketing department, so I asked them to send it here. You're not mad, are you?" The woman's playful yet innocent tone made it impossible for Eugene to scold her. He slipped an arm around her and gently pinched her chin, while his sharp gaze flicked back to Clara, who stood there trembling. With a cool smile, he said, "Well, since it's for you, there's nothing wrong with having it delivered here. Go ahead and try it on."