hapter 58
Chapter 58
CHARLOTTE
The boutique smelled faintly of lavender and expensive perfume, the kind that lingered in the air long after someone passed by. The racks of silk, lace, and satin shimmered under the soft lighting, but none of it soothed the irritation bubbling up inside me.
I stood in front of yet another row of dresses, flipping through them with an edge of impatience. Every time I thought I’d found the one, my eye would catch on another option just a few steps away, and the cycle would start over. It wasn’t like I was shopping for a wedding or something life–changing, but it felt important to look just right for the event. Still, this endless deliberation was testing my patience.
The red dress in my hand was beautiful–bold, elegant, the kind of dress that turned heads. But as I held it up to examine it, my gaze snagged on a sleek black number a few hangers down. Black, timeless and classic, whispered promises of sophistication in a way that the red didn’t. I sighed, hanging the red dress back with more force than necessary.
“This shouldn’t be so hard,” I muttered under my breath, frustration boiling over as I reached for the black dress.
As I lifted it off the rack, smoothing the fabric with my fingers, a voice drifted over from behind me. It was sweet, overly so, the kind of tone that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
“Rosalie?”
I froze for a moment before turning to face the speaker. Standing a few feet away was a tall, striking woman with sleek, dark hair that fell in perfect waves over her shoulders. She was dressed impeccably, the kind of outfit that screamed money and effort, even if she’d try to pass it off as effortless. Her lips were curved into a syrupy smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and her manicured hand rested delicately on the strap of her designer handbag.
“Sorry, what?” I asked, my brow furrowing as I studied her.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, her voice dripping with an exaggerated politeness that grated on my nerves. “I thought you were Rosalie. You look just like her.”
I blinked, taken aback by her certainty and the casual familiarity in her tone. “I’m not Rosalie,” I said, my voice a touch
sharper than intended. “I’m Charlotte, her older sister.”
For a brief moment, her eyes widened in what looked like genuine surprise. But it didn’t last long. Her expression quickly morphed into something more calculated, her lips curving into a smaller, tighter smile.
“Ah, I see,” she said smoothly, recovering with impressive speed. “That makes sense now. You two look so alike—almost identical. My mistake.” She gave a small laugh, but it sounded anything but genuine.
I didn’t bother to smile back. Instead, I kept my expression neutral as I studied her more closely. There was something about her that felt off, and I didn’t need long to figure out what it was.
“I’m Melanie,” she added, stepping closer and extending her hand toward me. “One of Damien’s business partners.”
The name hit me like a thunderclap. Melanie. The same woman Rosalie had fumed about after that disastrous party, the one Damien had been flaunting in front of everyone as if she were his wife. The realization settled in my chest like a heavy weight, and I felt my fingers twitch with the urge to slap that smug smile right off her face.
I glanced down at her outstretched hand but didn’t take it. Instead, I crossed my arms over my chest, letting the tension settle into my stance. “I know who you are,” I said evenly, my voice cutting through the air like a blade. “Rosalie’s mentioned
you before.”
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Her smile faltered for a fraction of a second, the briefest flicker of unease crossing her face before she smoothed it away. “Oh, has she?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. “I hope it was all good things.”
I raised an eyebrow, my lips curving into a dry, humorless smile. “Not exactly.”
Melanie’s expression shifted, her carefully crafted facade cracking just enough to reveal the glint of irritation beneath. “Well, misunderstandings happen, don’t they?” she said lightly, though her tone had lost some of its earlier sweetness. “I assure you, my relationship with Damien is strictly professional.”
I let out a laugh, low and humorless. “Professional? That’s an interesting way to describe it.”
Her smile tightened, and I could see the flicker of tension in her jaw. “I’m sorry if I’ve given the wrong impression,” she said, her voice cooler now. “I had no idea you felt this way.”
“You didn’t,” I said coldly. “Rosalie did.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, though she kept her tone neutral. “Is that so?”
I took a step closer, dropping my arms to my sides as I leaned in just enough to make her uncomfortable. “Listen carefully,” I said, my voice quiet but sharp as a knife. “I don’t care what your intentions are, but I have a problem with anyone who tries to come between my sister and her husband. So if that’s what you’re doing, Melanie, then yes, I have a very big problem with you.”
Her brows shot up in exaggerated surprise, her lips curving into a mocking smile. “Come between them? My, my. Elder sister swooping in to protect her younger sister’s honor. How noble.”
She laughed lightly, the sound grating against my nerves. Her tone dripped with condescension as she added, “I suppose Rosalie’s told you all sorts of colorful things about me. But whatever you think you know, it’s just the surface. I can assure you, there’s so much more I’m capable of.”
“Is that a threat?” I asked, my voice low and steady, the sharpness in my tone making it clear I wasn’t in the mood for games.
“Not at all,” she said, her eyes gleaming with something dark and calculating. “Just a little advice. Don’t throw stones unless you’re ready for them to come flying back.”
I laughed again, this time louder and more deliberate. “Funny,” I said, letting my gaze flick over her from head to toe. “Coming from someone who spends her time playing the harlot. That’s all you’ll ever be, Melanie–a desperate woman clinging to scraps of attention like a starving dog. It’s pathetic.”
Her mask slipped for a moment, her lips pressing into a thin line before she quickly forced a smile back onto her face. “And what are you?” she shot back, her tone sharp and cutting. “The jealous sister trying to insert herself into something that doesn’t concern her?”
I stepped even closer, the air between us crackling with tension. “It does concern me,” I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “It concerns me when someone like you thinks she can waltz into my family’s life and play games with my sister’s marriage. Stay away from Damien, or you’ll regret it. That’s not a warning–it’s a promise.”
She smirked, though I could see the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. “You’re bold, I’ll give you that,” she said, her voice laced with forced bravado. “But boldness doesn’t scare me, Charlotte. Be careful what you start, because I always finish.”
I stared her down for a long moment, letting the weight of my words hang in the air. Finally, I scoffed, turning on my heel and striding toward the counter. “Stay away from him,” I said over my shoulder, my voice as cold as ice. “Or you’ll find out exactly what I’m capable of.”
I didn’t wait for her response. My heart was pounding as I paid for the black dress, the adrenaline from the confrontation still thrumming through my veins. As I stepped out of the boutique, the crisp air hit my face, clearing my thoughts.
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Chapter 58
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That whore might think she’s untouchable, but she was wrong. No one messed with what’s mine and got away with it—not without facing the consequences.
AD
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