Love In Disguise: Rebirth of the Heiress
Chapter 88

Chapter 88: Chapter 88

I looked out the window of the car as Lucian drove. It was strange how one’s life could change in just a minute. A month ago, I thought my biggest problem was climbing the corporate ladder and finding the time to sleep andaking Jessica and Gabriel pay.

Now I was juggling murder accusations, cryptic death gods, and a mark on my shoulder that screamed chosen one.

And guess what? I do not want to be a chosen one.

Lucian’s car smelled faintly of leather and something musky, expensive. I glanced at him, his hands steady on the steering wheel, his expression unreadable.

His face was set in a hard line and like usual he was dress in black. I turned back to look out the window again, clasping my palms together.

"Do you have plans tomorrow?" he asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

I blinked at him. "Why?"

"Just curious," he said, his tone even, though his gaze flicked toward me briefly, his dark eyes holding something I couldn’t quite place.

I raised an eyebrow. "What, are you asking me out or something?"

"Yes," he said flatly.

"What?"

His lips twitched into the faintest smile. "Relax, Kiara. I’m joking."

I scowled, turning back to the window to hide the heat creeping up my neck. "Not funny."

His low chuckle filled the car. "Apologies. But I do have a reason for asking. I thought we could use the day for research."

"On a Sunday?" I asked, glancing at him skeptically.

"Do you have better plans?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do," I said, crossing my arms.

He frowned, his hands tightening briefly on the steering wheel. "With who?"

"An ex," I said, watching his reaction out of the corner of my eye.

He was quiet for a beat, and I could feel his displeasure radiating off him. "An ex?"

"Yes," I said, deciding to push him further. "Gabriel."

Lucian’s grip on the wheel tightened, his knuckles turning white. "Why would you meet him?"

"He invited me to a dinner party. To meet his mother," I said casually, though I couldn’t help the bitterness that crept into my voice.

"Gabriel doesn’t strike me as the type to play nice family man," Lucian muttered, his tone sharp.

"You’re not wrong," I said with a sigh. "But I have my reasons."

Lucian shot me a look. "What kind of reasons?"

I met his gaze, my expression unreadable. "Reasons I don’t want to talk about."

"Kiara—"

"Drop it, Lucian," I said, cutting him off.

He let out a long breath, his jaw tightening. "Fine. But if you’re going to do this, you’ll need to dress appropriately."

I rolled my eyes. "What is it with you and Jason and this obsession with my wardrobe?"

"It’s not an obsession," he said, smirking faintly. "It’s practicality. If you want to play their game, you have to look the part. It’s not just about what you say, Kiara. It’s about how you present yourself."

"And you think you can help me with that?"

"I know I can," he said confidently.

I snorted. "Thanks, but I think I can manage on my own. I have a feeling you’d dress me in all black."

Lucian smirked faintly, his dark eyes glinting. "It wouldn’t hurt. Black suits you."

I rolled my eyes, leaning back in the seat as the car approached my building. "Goodbye, Lucian."

"We’re not there yet," he said casually, his hands steady on the wheel.

"Still, goodbye in advance," I replied with a dry laugh.

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. "You’re stubborn. You know that, right?"

"It’s been mentioned once or twice," I said, smirking.

The car slowed to a stop in front of my building. Lucian shifted into park and turned to me, his expression softening. "Kiara, I’m serious about tomorrow. Be careful."

I opened the door, stepping out with a smirk. "Thanks, Dad."

He gave a faint chuckle, shaking his head. "Just remember what I said."

I leaned down, peering into the car. "You mean the part where you were pretending not to be jealous?"

His lips twitched into an amused smile. "If that’s what helps you sleep at night."

I straightened, shutting the door behind me. He rolled down the window, leaning slightly toward me.

"Goodbye, Kiara," he said, his tone steady

I crossed my arms, tilting my head. "Goodbye, Lucian. Try not to miss me too much."

The faintest smirk touched his lips before he drove off, the taillights disappearing down the street.

As I made my way up to my apartment, I found myself replaying the conversation in my head.

And a soft smile replayed on my lips.

I never had friendships like this. Something fun, something to think about.

It was always careful wordings with Gabriel and Jessica. This...this was nice.

****

The loud knock startled me awake. Groggy and disoriented, I rubbed my eyes and stumbled toward the door. My fingers brushed over the peephole, and I squinted through it.

What the—?

A man stood there, sharply dressed in a tailored black suit. His face was striking, with angular cheekbones and piercing green eyes that I recognized immediately.

"Edgar Thorn," I muttered under my breath.

I hadn’t seen him in years, but there was no mistaking him. Edgar Thorn, the renowned fashion designer who had dressed my mother for every major event back in the day. His work was legendary, his attitude even more so. What was he doing here?

I opened the door cautiously, only for a group of assistants to swarm in behind him, each carrying hangers draped with luxurious fabrics and garment bags.

"What is this?" I asked, stepping back as the assistants buzzed around my apartment, setting up racks and pulling out clothes faster than I could process.

"Good morning, darling," Edgar said, his voice rich and dramatic, like every word he spoke was part of an opera. "Lucian Hartford sent me. Said you’re in need of something spectacular. And when Lucian calls, I deliver."

I blinked, dumbfounded. "Spectacular for what exactly?"

Edgar waved a hand dismissively, already inspecting my living room like it was an eyesore. "For tonight, of course. He said you needed to be...how did he put it? Oh yes, ’dressed to kill.’"

My mouth dropped open. "You’ve got to be kidding me."

"I assure you, I never kid about fashion." He gestured to an assistant holding a sleek black gown. "Hold that up higher, darling. Let her see the silhouette."

I stared at the gown, my disbelief mounting. "I don’t need this."

Edgar arched a perfectly sculpted brow. "You don’t want this? Or you don’t think you deserve this? There’s a difference, darling."

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Neither. I just don’t understand why Lucian would do this."

Edgar gave me a look like I’d just confessed to a crime. "Because Lucian Hartford is a man of taste and precision. He knows appearances matter. If you’re stepping into a room with power players, you can’t afford to look mediocre."

One of the assistants brought over another dress, this one deep crimson, with intricate embroidery along the bodice. "This would highlight her figure beautifully," they said, holding it up.

"Absolutely not," Edgar said, swatting the air. "Her complexion calls for something bolder. Bring me the midnight blue set!"

"Stop!" I said, throwing my hands up. "Everyone, stop! Edgar, this is ridiculous."

Edgar crossed his arms, unbothered by my outburst. "Ridiculous? Darling, what’s ridiculous is thinking you can face tonight looking like...well, this." He waved a hand at my current outfit—oversized pajamas and mismatched socks.

I glared at him. "I was sleeping."

"No excuse," he said flatly. "Now, let me do my job."

I opened my mouth to protest, but an assistant was already holding up the midnight blue dress Edgar had requested. It was stunning, the fabric shimmering faintly under the apartment’s dim light.

"Try it on," Edgar said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I hesitated, glancing at the dress, then at the team of assistants who were all watching me expectantly.

"Fine," I muttered, snatching the dress from the assistant. "But only because I want you out of my apartment as soon as possible."

"Of course, darling," Edgar said with a satisfied smile.

I disappeared into my bedroom to change, muttering curses under my breath the entire time. The dress slid on like a second skin, fitting perfectly despite the fact that Edgar had never taken my measurements.

When I stepped out, the room fell silent. Edgar’s expression softened, a rare moment of sincerity breaking through his usual theatrics.

"There she is," he said, his voice quieter.

I looked down at myself, the smooth fabric cascading elegantly to the floor. For a moment, I allowed myself to feel...different. Stronger.

"Well?" I asked, trying to sound annoyed but failing to hide the small smile creeping onto my lips.

"You look stunning," Edgar said simply.

One of the assistants stepped forward with a pair of heels that matched the dress perfectly. "These will complete the look."

I groaned, but Edgar snapped his fingers. "No complaints. Shoes on. Now."

Reluctantly, I slipped into the heels. They were surprisingly comfortable, though I’d never admit it.

"Perfect," Edgar said, stepping back to admire his work. "Lucian will be pleased."

At the mention of Lucian, my irritation flared up again. "This was his idea, wasn’t it? He just wanted to show off."

"Lucian Hartford doesn’t show off," Edgar said, smirking. "He strategizes. And trust me, you’re part of a very calculated strategy."

I frowned, unsure whether to feel flattered or manipulated.

"Now," Edgar continued, clapping his hands. "Let’s discuss accessories."

"Oh no," I said, holding up a hand. "This is where I draw the line. No accessories, no more dresses, and no more you."

Edgar pouted but didn’t argue. "Fine. But if you ruin the look with bad hair, I’ll disown you."

"I’ll survive," I said dryly.

As the team began packing up, Edgar approached me one last time. "For what it’s worth, darling, I think you’re going to turn heads tonight."

I gave him a tight smile. "Thanks, Edgar."

I doubt if he remembered me as the girl who use to try on the shoes hd always brought for my mother.

He winked, then swept out of the apartment with his entourage, leaving me alone with the lingering scent of expensive fabric and perfume.

I collapsed onto the couch, staring down at the dress still clinging to my body.

Lucian Hartford, I thought, you’re insane.