Cecilia’s pov
"Of course," George replied with a professional smile. He turned to his assistant. "Try it on. Now."
The color drained from her face like soone had pulled the plug. "Mr.George ...Yes."
She walked back to the rack and hung the green dress up, reaching instead for a white one.
"Funny," I called out casually from behind her, "weren’t you just raving about how perfect that green dress was for ? What changed your mind?"
Her smile slipped, but she forced it back. It didn’t look real. She picked up the green dress and went inside.
Yvonne and I exchanged looks as we settled back onto the sofa.
George imdiately began apologizing.
"I’m so sorry, ladies. She’s new and clearly hasn’t learned proper etiquette yet..."
Yvonne gave him a sharp smile. "You brought a trainee to a private showing? That’s either really confident or really careless."
George blanched, like soone had just told him his champagne was from a grocery store. He launched into another stream of apologies.
I half-listened to their exchange while keeping an eye on the ti. A dress change shouldn’t take more than five minutes. We were pushing ten minutes.
"Did she fall into a black hole in there, George?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Ha... you’re quite the codian, Miss Cecilia." George laughed nervously, then signaled another assistant to check on the situation.
The second assistant knocked on the door. A strained voice answered from inside,
"I... I need another minute. The clasp is... difficult."
Her tone was off. Too tight. Too rehearsed.
George stood up and marched over, rapping sharply on the door.
"What’s taking so long? Co out now!"
Finally, the door opened.
The assistant erged, looking like she’d sprinted through a fire drill. Sweat dotted her forehead, and her hands trembled slightly.
George imdiately spotted the unfastened clasp at the back of the dress.
"All this ti and you couldn’t even manage the hooks? Are you possessed?"
He was furious now. The remaining assistants crowded around, reaching to help with the clasps.
"Don’t touch those hooks," I called out sharply, my tone slicing through the room like cold steel.
Everyone froze.
Tang stepped forward like a switch had flipped, his calm replaced by quiet nace. He motioned for George and his team to back away.
Seeing Tang approach, the assistant panicked and made a break for the door.
Tang caught her in three strides, his movents clean and practiced, like he’d done this before. He restrained her with ease, then pulled out a small knife and carefully examined the collar.
Near the neckline was a row of tal clasps. Looking closer, the middle clasp concealed a tiny hypodermic needle with traces of red liquid inside.
It was subtle. Deadly.
Just putting the dress on might not set it off, but closing the hooks definitely would.
A tiny amount was enough, depending on what kind of toxin it was.
No wonder she’d stalled. She knew exactly what would happen.
This wasn’t a signature piece. It didn’t match Yvonne’s style or color profile. It had been buried in the collection, then handpicked for .
The ssage was obvious.
Tang pressed the blade gently to her neck, just over the artery. His voice was calm.
"Who sent you?"
The room went still. No one moved. No one breathed.
A knock at the door broke the tension.
"Miss Yvonne," the butler called. "Alpha Sebastian from Silver Peak Pack has arrived."
Everyone froze. It felt like soone had dropped a bucket of ice into the room.
"Send him in," Yvonne replied.
The butler hesitated. "Would you prefer he wait in the main hall?"
"No. Bring him here."
"Very well."
As the butler left to escort Sebastian, Tang repeated his question.
"Who sent you?"
The assistant cracked. She pointed a shaking finger.
"It was Mr. George’s idea! I swear, I don’t know anything else!"
"What?" George sputtered. "That’s a lie! I never told you to do anything like that!"
Tang glanced between them, then turned to us.
"Cecilia. Yvonne. You should leave. What happens next won’t be... polite. Go keep Alpha Sebastian company for a few minutes."
I bit my lip. What was he going to do? Interrogate her? Or sothing worse?
George and the assistant were shouting over each other now, both desperate to shift the bla. The rest of the staff huddled in the corner like frightened interns.
Sebastian arrived before I could move.
The mont he stepped into the room, his eyes swept across the chaos.His expression turned arctic.
"I..." I began, but he grabbed my wrist and pulled toward the door.
"Take her to the car," he ordered Sawyer. "Don’t let her out until I say so."
Sawyer nodded. "Yes, Alpha."
Sebastian turned back, stepped into the room, and shut the door behind him with a loud click. I heard the lock slide into place.
I sighed, feeling the weight of his silence through the door.
There’d been no ti to explain.
"We should go," Sawyer said, gently steering away.
With one last glance at the closed door, I followed him to the car. As soon as we were inside, he locked the doors.
About ten minutes later, I saw several security guards walk into the house carrying restraints.
An hour later, police cars pulled up with flashing lights, cutting through the night like search beacons.
Through the tinted windows, we saw George and his team being escorted out in handcuffs.
I thought we’d be free to leave once things settled down. But then Sebastian appeared at the car door, face unreadable, and told Sawyer to drive.
Yvonne didn’t even get a proper goodbye.
I felt a twinge of guilt. Sebastian was clearly furious, but none of this had been her fault.
Actually, the only ones to bla were the people who set the trap in the first place.
Night had already fallen when we finally pulled away from Yvonne’s estate.
The roads ahead were dark and quiet, but the tension in the car was sharp enough to cut glass.
After watching Sebastian’s stone-cold profile in silence, I finally spoke once we were well down the road.
"It wasn’t Yvonne’s fault. Please don’t be mad at her. If anyone should apologize, it’s ."
"I’m not blaming her," Sebastian replied, voice flat. "I’m blaming myself. I should’ve never let you walk into that place without tighter protection."
Trying to shift the mood, I asked, "What did you find out in there? What was in the needle?"
Sebastian’s jaw clenched.
"HIV-positive blood."
His words landed like a slap.
"The assistant claims George gave the order. George says he’s being set up. They’re both sticking to their stories."
He paused, then added, "Soone’s been watching Yvonne’s ssages. The timing of George’s visit was too perfect to be random.
"He says his secretary gave him the wrong date. Lying or not, one thing’s clear: Yvonne’s place isn’t safe. You can’t go back there anyti soon."
My stomach turned.
HIV-positive blood.
This wasn’t so scare tactic. It was a calculated move to take down, quietly and permanently.
Sebastian noticed my reaction. His features softened.
He slid closer and wrapped an arm around , the gesture both protective and grounding.
"You’re vulnerable right now," he said gently. "I need to find sowhere safe. Sowhere no one can reach you."
I wanted to say I wasn’t so breakable doll. But after what we’d just escaped... maybe I kind of was.
At least right now.
So instead of arguing, I leaned into him, letting his warmth pull back from the edge.
Because honestly?
Being the target of carefully planned assassination attempts was exhausting.
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