"It is... difficult," Jenna said with a sigh.
She traced a finger over the tear that Emline had created, her face growing red with a mixture of anger and frustration.
"This dress was one of a kind. Every dress here is, but this... this is different. It took the work of multiple designers over the course of five years to create. Before your mother had even gone off to college, Horace and I had already started working on this masterpiece all in hopes of her wearing it when her wedding day arrives."
Jenna slumped even further. "The fabric that was chosen... the amount of work that had gone into the dress... everything would take more than a few weeks to fix, that’s for sure. What’s more, the designers that I’ve worked with have all gone off to open their own boutiques― they won’t have the ti to help."
"If it’s manpower you’re worried about, fret not," Matteo calmly said. "I’m sure I can find soone." Taking his phone out of his pocket, he tapped the screen rapidly before bringing the phone to his ear. "Please excuse ."
He then stepped away, speaking into it in hushed whispers.
Jenna barely even batted an eyelid as Matteo stepped to one side. She sat in the middle of the ss― the boutique looked like it had been swept over by a typhoon. Everything was a ss, with shards of glass, ceramics, trampled flowers, and spilled liquids everywhere.
All throughout her career, Jenna had never faced such an absolute disaster!
She tightly clenched her fists the longer she surveyed her precious little boutique. Anger bubbled and brewed in her chest, quickly replacing the dismay of the torn dress.
"Alia dearie," Jenna said, "Please relay my utmost apologies to your grandfather for ."
Alia’s eyes widened. "What for?"
When their gazes t, Alia was stunned for a brief second. Gone was the kindly look Jenna wore, and instead, it was replaced by a cold gaze with a cutting edge, filled with murderous intent. This was the look Alia associated with high-end fashion designers― cut-throat and ruthless.
"I understand that Emline Hawthorne may be his beloved granddaughter, but I refuse to further provide any services to that... that... poor excuse of an heiress!" Jenna spat out. "She is by far the worst custor I’ve ever had the displeasure to deal with."
She continued, "If Emline Hawthorne wishes to find herself so much as a white dress for her wedding, she better start looking outside of Solara this very instant because I will make sure no one within the borders of Solara will provide her so much as a piece of white fabric!"
Odd satisfaction tickled Alia’s chest, causing her to grin. It was a little petty of her, but hearing that did bring her the slightest bit of delight.
"What about the other designers?"
"Everyone who is anyone in the fashion industry here in Solara owes a favor or two," Jenna said with firm pride. She stuck her nose high in the air. "If she and her horrid mother think that I am just a portly little woman who has got no influence, they have it coming for her."
Right then, Matteo had finished his call and returned to their side. He glanced at his watch, his expression placid.
"It’s getting late," he said. "Alia?"
Alia nodded. She turned back and helped Jenna back up to her feet.
"I’m very sorry about the dress, dearie," Jenna said with a sigh. "I’ll have a word again with Horace to see what can be done. He ought to know what that wonderful daughter-in-law of his has done as well, along with her no-good daughter."
She huffed. "For all the wonderful things he said about her through our years of friendship..." Jenna shivered. Then, she gently patted Alia’s hands. "If I hadn’t known, I would’ve thought you were the one who was brought up in the Hawthorne household instead, not that brat."
There was nothing Alia could do other than offer a gentle smile.
With Matteo promising that he had arranged for a clean-up crew to help tidy up the ss Aiden had created, Matteo and Alia bid their farewells and left the atelier. Jenna had sent them off as well, claiming that she needed the ti alone after the eventful day.
"Poor Jenna," Alia said as they sat in the car, Matteo behind the wheel. "It’s a sha. I did want to see how the dress would’ve looked."
"It might be good to have faith in Jenna’s capabilities," Matteo said, sparing her a quick glance before returning his eyes to the road. "She is the best wedding dress designer in Solara, maybe even the continent."
Alia nodded but said nothing more.
"Could you drop at the orphanage?" she asked. "Since we ended a little earlier than planned, I want to check on so things."
"Sure."
It didn’t take too long before they arrived.
"Are you sure you don’t want there?" Matteo asked again, peering out of the window. He ignored the incessant ringing of his phone, where the screen clearly displayed Ronan’s na in bold.
Alia eyed the device as the ring died down before the screen lit up again, Ronan’s na returning to its rightful place alongside seven other missed calls.
"I’ll be fine," Alia said, a crooked laugh on her lips. She gestured at his phone. "Ronan might need you back in the office more."
"I’ve pushed off all the etings for today," Matteo grumbled under his breath. Then, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I’ll co pick you up after you’re done. Just let know when."
Alia nodded, stepping aside with a smile as she watched Matteo drive off after more convincing than what was needed. Only when his car had disappeared down the road did Alia turn to enter the orphanage.
"Daniella?" Alia called out as she stepped through the doors.
The orphanage was oddly silent, and for so reason, an unsettling feeling brewed deep in Alia’s chest. There would at least be a few children playing outside, or even the sound of their whispers or argunts echoing down the hallways. However, today, it was so silent that Alia wondered if she had arrived at the wrong place.
"Daniel―" Alia’s call was cut off when she heard a crash co from the second floor. Alard, she spun quickly in that direction before taking off, hurrying upstairs.
Following the direction of the sound, she hurried down the hall just in ti for the door right at the end of the corridor to burst open, a body falling out and onto the floor with a bang.
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